1912-1990 Era War IC (Semi-Closed)

[Arengin Union]

Somewhere unknown.
Arengin

---

A lonely, snowy and cold night embraced the Slavic nation of Arengin, peaceful nights where there was nothing else to be found but sound sleeping, and the nightly wildlife that ventured into the smaller towns of the countryside. Cities still adorned by lights, single monorails, and lone carriages carrying passengers and loads of varying nature. The entire country was in profound tranquility despite the state of the world that found itself in further chaos than years prior.

But there is someone who isn't as tranquil in this one of many nights, or perhaps more accurately a group of someones. The setting is instead eerie and filled with suspicion, doubt, but also what one may believe to be a patriotic and perhaps even noble goal in the mind of all the men gathered in this fine room in the middle of a clear night. In this group of men one may find soldiers, workers, citizens of the annexed regions, a variety of people of all walks of life that wish for a common goal, the fall of the Monarchy and the rise of a new Order, a better Order.

Among all of these men, there is one that acts as the De Facto leader of the conspiracy, and one that many men in the room both respect and fear. Isaack Vitomir, a Duma representative of a district in the Volod province and a man of determination and aspirations that he will go through any lengths to achieve.

And everyone gathers around the table, filled with maps, documents, and other miscellaneous objects, Vitomir is the first to speak as the murmuring from the room stops. "Very well gentlemen, you all know why we are here. If you have come this far, it may be too late to go back I want to make that clear and for you all to understand what it may entail..." A silence ensues in the room, some look at each other with uncertainty while others remain unfazed.

Vitomir then continue, "We are here because we wish to bring an end to a regime that chokes the life of those very people it claims to rule, led by a man who gives the illusion of freedom and justice while wielding a hammer of despotic authority..." THe room in filled with murmurs and nods of agreement, "A phony legislative body that is at the mercy of that very same man, and a military that pledges loyalty to that single man and not to the people!" One more the room erupts into agreement.

Vitomir stands up from his seat, emboldened by his fellow conspirators and by his deep and passionate hatred of the Monarchy. "We are not free, we are not men, we are slaves under the boot of a idealistic and weakening sham of a leader who yields to disorder... to Corporate elites who suck the life out of the workers of this great nation, the people who make the backbone of this nation while their 'leader' lives in an ivory tower. A leader who associates with fascists and thugs who too abuse the workers of the world, our brothers in arms and who plunge us into useless, pointless bloody conflicts all for the greed of power and money!" Vitomir's words become louder as he sets his fist on the table with authority.

"We are here because we are patriots not to a figurehead, but to our people, THE PEOPLE!" Vitomir then slams his hands onto the table with might, "We are here to save Arengin, to bring forth a new dawn of progress and order, a nation that is led by the wills of the men who built its very foundation, those who deserve to yield the truest power!" The room erupts in chanting and clamoring, much of it fueled by anger.

"WE ARE HERE TO SAVE THE NATION FROM WHAT THIS MAN REPRESENTS!" Vitomir's finger then pointed right to the portrait of none other than the King himself, the idealistic spearheader of freedom, justice, and peace in the world, Nikolai Oswyn the fourth. The men in the room looked at the portrait of the man with contempt, with anger, with deep hatred, many of them had been wronged and they blamed him and the entire government he led. Men in this room had lost their blue collar jobs due to a lack of workers unions in the country which allowed employers to fire and hire as they please and give no compensation to long time workers, soldiers who had seen nothing in return for their service, Morverians, Sheepnians, and Ruskland men who had their own reasons. There was discontent for many things in this room and Vitomir was the man who'd bring an end to them.

"We shall purge this country... We shall cut off the elitist bloodlines that led us to this state, led us to the 9 Years War, to Imperialism, to expansionism by fire! WE SHALL TAKE CONTROL!" Vitomir's words then got a resounding "Slava" from everyone in the room. The speech was then suddenly cut short by a conspiring soldier announcing the arrival of several men to the gates of the building.

"They come in a very inconspicuous vehicle..." Vitomir said as he too looked out the window. Everyone was curious as to what was coming, who was "they" and for what were they coming for. Vitomir's own silence was shared through the room as the men who had arrived were escorted upstairs to the room of the conspirators. Vitomir immediately stood up, with a gleeful smile he welcomed the men.

"Gentlemen welcome... We have much to discuss!" He smiled, the men he greeted, were men from Ruskland, the Ruskland Government of all things.

Royal Palace.
St. Osloverg, Arengin Union.

---

"Alas, it is done!" Nikolai said with pride as he had finally finished writing the official Charter for his magnum opus, his shinning light in a darkened tunnel, the beacon of hope for this world. This would be the institution, the international body that would spearhead an era of peace and prosperity in the world, it would be his ultimate legacy not only of himself but his people, his children and the children of his children. Nikolai could only admire the document as he set it down on his desk, visible happiness and exhilaration within him as he then stood from his seat. Taking a hold of the document, Nikolai then looked out from one of the windows in his studio, the garden was covered in snow as the sun shinned brightly and vibrantly through the cloudy sky and onto his beautiful and modernized country, onto his window and shinning right on him.

Looking at the document, Nikolai nodded, "This will be the start... For you Father..."

Outside of the King's office there was a large crowd, ministers, councilors, confidants, and members of the Duma gathered to witness the unveil of the so fabled Charter of that International body that the King had proposed at the Royal Ball held not so long ago. For some this was a moment of excitement, to see the King's newest proposition to not only the Country but to the World as a whole, while for others there was uncertainty and doubts of this idealist belief of a peaceful world and a much more of an international body that would regulate peace and war, it was simply unprecedented. Finally after what seemed an eternity, the King's studio doors were opened and the tall man of near 50, in perfect health, and of fashionable beard walked out with a set of documents in hand.

The silence within the hall of the Palace was unbearable as everyone waited to hear what the King was about to say. And then, the King spoke.

"Ladies... Gentlemen... I have in my hand, the doctrine that shall be followed by our people, by our allies, by the world. The road to peace, and the road to a world where our children shan't see war any more!" Nikolai held the documents in hand. His words immediately drew a round of applause and praise from everyone in the room, soon the King found himself greeting and shaking the hands of everyone present at the hall. Followed closely by his Captain of the Royal Guard the King remained steadfast and humble as he usually was, thanking everyone for being present the King was given both words of adulation and words of precaution by friends, allies, and even people who seemed more skeptical of him.

Through the myriad of members of the Arenginian political life, the King would then stumble upon a rather infamous Member of the Duma, Isaack Vitomir. He was a smaller man than the king, somewhat robust but well built, balding a bit and with an odd set of facial hair. Nikolai had heard of the man, he had even noticed and asked of him at times, he was a fervent lover of the people and the country and a passionate public speaker who had won the hearts and minds of his constituents. Despite being from the rather anti-establishment Social Action Party, Nikolai held no grudges, no ill wills and no disdain for the man, he was a fellow Arenginian and it was that mattered.

"Congratulations for such an astounding proposition and achievement I do so hope, your majesty, sir..." Vitomir said as he gave his hand to the King, Nikolai detected some half halfheartedness in the man's words but he didn't mind at all, he shook the man's hand with delight and smiled brightly at him with all good intentions. Vitomir for his part remained calm, politely smiling at the King as he shook his hand and keeping his personal thoughts to himself, the man was the leader and he had to respect that for now.

"I thank you for being present today Representative Vitomir. I was hoping more of your party would attend!" Nikolai said as he let go of Vitomir's hand.

"Well there are many issues that my fellow partymen have to attend to, but I am here as a representative of them and their good will towards you, your majesty!" Vitomir answered.

Nikolai nodded, he then gave a pat to Vitomir's arm. "You are a good man for doing so, I hear many good things of you and I trust you as a man of the people, as all members of the Duma should be!" Nikolai's words received a cold nod from Vitomir.

The Captain then subtly intruded, closing into Nikolai's ear he then said "Your majesty, your wife is expecting you..."

"Yes, well I hope to discuss more of Arengin's future with you Mr. Vitomir, we have much to discuss and much to do for Arengin's future, if you'd excuse me!" Nikolai then passed right by Vitomir and following down the stairs and towards the exit of the Palace, leaving behind Vitomir who simply remained emotionless as he looked onto the king with malice and hatred.

"Indeed... there is much to do..." He murmured.

[Vulkata II]

Calming the tides

Sylba, Rannoria.

---

The troops of the Confederacy landed and captured a port for their troops. Trying to capitalize on the civil war waged by multiple sides, many imaged how horrific the sight of a foreign flag was as it raised and carried by lorries that they themselves transported either troops, supplies, or vehicle parts that were too heavy to bring by horseback, while horses were being deposited off from separate ships with their handlers and riders awaiting for their arrival.

The men were to meet up with whatever R.S.F personnel the island had but the fact that they were exposed, and being seen could mean that they could be ambushed at any angle they were unfortunate enough to be in. As soon as the forces did meet up with the conscripted forces(much to some of the experienced troops' dismay as even their own fresh recruits trained for a few months more than most of the conscripts)and began to set up camp.

As men were unpacking and turning a slaughterhouse into their command post, a young man who was carrying rifles for the Quartermaster had a bullet fly past his head and knocked the Adrian off of him. His instincts took over and he dropped to the ground as well as the rifles that he held.

Trucks, wagons, artillery pieces that hadn't been properly set up and the very crates of equipment that they were supposed to unload were used as cover and soon a firefight ensued with a make-shift army that the men had no idea were made out of and their numbers. Maxim machine guns fired through the second floor windows to provide supporting fire though they too had no idea where the enemy was while sharpshooters were looking left and right for an enemy and with no armored support, the men were dug in.

---

R'lyeh, Palas Fomalhaut

The young man's eyes grew at the sight of Jan, another Deep One away from the Confederacy! He was left speechless as evident by his hanging jaw bearing no audible decibel that even dogs or fish wouldn't hear.

He smiled a little at the joke, more on surprised joy than actually understanding what he was saying but he was joyous at the sight of his kin from a foreign nation and one so far north.

"A small, little world we have. Though I suppose that's because of the vast amounts land we've traveled rather than on sea as much as the old texts say.

"Whatever the case is, there's more of us in the Confederacy. Though ostracized, at least there are a handful of... Welcoming, people there. Be they from the forges of Vulcan or the brains of our politics. But I don't think you're interested in our little Confederacy, your majesty, unless you are then we may continue o-"

He felt the surface of his briefcase, forgetting the ordeal of why he was invited in the first place he was embarrassed, "I- I'm sorry your majesty, I didn't mean to waste your time with a history lesson. If we may come back to alliances and being part of the Imperial Bloc, that wo- would be wonderful. Yes."

The young man, Deep One to be honest, fixed himself in the chair multiple times. Scooting at one end then the other, it was obvious that he wasn't satisfied with what he's accomplished as of yet.

[Guuj Xaat Kil]

Somewhere behind enemy lines...

A regular looking car ran through a slightly dilapidated asphalt road through an area that was a mix of hills and forest. The automotive rocked every now and then whenever it ran over a rock, much to the dismay of the gruff looking man in the back passenger seat. The one with the largest beard smirked at his misfortune, and the one with the in-between of both's features simply looked outside his window from the front passenger seat. Nearly black everything, all colors from the brown of bark to the green of pine could barely be seen, only turning somewhat vibrant whenever the light of the car came upon them, all covered in some snow. What was quite visible though, was the sharp fork into a dirt path further down the road. "Turn up ahead," their driver said in rough Rusklandr, "You two in back be ready.". Although the man had driven the car almost five meters from the turn before saying his warning. And the groan of the gruff one made it obvious that he wasn't pleased. "Come on, Laurent." The one at the front told his grouchy compatriot in the back, "The meeting place should be less than a kilometer down this road.".

"Easy for you to SAY!" Another bump in the now dirt road, making the car jump and Laurent hit the back of his head on the car's roof. The big bearded man finally could take it no longer, and snickered boisterously. "Almos, I may not be your superior officer, but stay quiet you buffoon." The displeasure in his voice was palpable, and Almos could only snicker further, much to the disappointment of Laurent. These were Loras D. Laurent and Almos Guthkeled, veterans of the 9 Years War and Battlemasters of the 1st Army of Tubuska and the Army of the East respectively. The former had broken much of the Arenginians at the Bog when his troops charged forth, and took care of those routed and running enemies. Casualties before and after that fateful battle had left a bad taste in his mouth, and to think that he would be assisting their former enemies... Well it was a good thing that he would only be training some of them.

As for the latter, he and his father, Battlemaster Georg Guthkeled would do their famous "Inspiring March", whose accumulated and trained troops, just after the Battle of the Bog, would be instrumental in the Counterstrike. The operation involved dislodging the Western League troops from the Breadbasket, and they succeeded, it was a make or break operation with many make or break gambles, and by the gods, they narrowly were able to make it. These narrow successes would culminate in the Battle of Garthon, in which they would break the combined advance of the WL into the Breadbasket and into Ruskland-Preuben as a whole, or is it the Confederacy now? Either way, what a glorious time that was. But working with Arenginians, oh bah! It's best he didn't think about it much, besides, these very Arenginians would be vital in weakening the monarchy that they were toppling. There was also the fact that there were some Sheepish and Morvernians in the mix, a very interesting factor.

"We're here, get out quickly and don't say anything unnecessary." The man at the front seat told Almos and Loras, looking at his face, it appeared that he was a tired old soul, wanting to just lay down his arms and rest for the rest of his life in a cabin in the Greatwoods. But circumstances didn't let that happen, and so here he was. Radberght M. Lee, another veteran of the 9 Years War and a participant in the Battle of the Bog, his well aimed and timed artillery were instrumental in the fall of the various Arenginian forces they faced. He didn't have much of an opinion on them, they were an enemy from before, and at the rate in which things are going, they would be an enemy once more. Couldn't be helped, if Rusk- err, the Confederacy was to become the dominant power of the Svacic, Arengin had to go, and their navy, their army, their resource rich territories, and their allies. These rebels would be important in making sure they did.

The three Battlemasters left the vehicle along with the driver, and they trudged through the snows. The door of the building just in front of them opened and out came a short but sturdy, and balding man. On him was a smile, and when they were about a few meters away, the man spoke, "Gentlemen welcome..." he greeted, beckoning them inside the building, "We have much to discuss!" The man continued as they entered the somewhat dilapidated structure in which the rebels had congregated. "Indeed we do, sir..." Radberght trailed off, uncertain of the rebel leader's name, the driver who had followed them through the doors whispered "Isaack Vitomir", and so the military leader straightened up, "Sir Vitomir, and as you and I have said before, we have much to discuss.".

But first, some introductions, "Ah, where are my manners?" Lee said, he then gestured to the other men with him, "These are my fellow compatriots that will assist you as well.". He pointed at Laurent, "This is Loras P. Laurent, a veteran of the war," then his finger was upon Almos, "And this, is Almos Guthkeled, another veteran.".

"So, gentlemen," he then spoke, "Let's get to the point, shall we?".

---

R'lyeh, Palas Fomalhaut

Jan and Lothar smiled when the young man's eyes grew at the sight of the former, indeed it was a surprise, another Deep One so far away from their homeland. Slack jawed, and speechless, definitely surprised, this one. "A small, little world we have." remarked the emissary, and Jan nodded, "Though I suppose that's because of the vast amounts land we've traveled rather than on sea as much as the old texts say.". "Whatever the case is, there's more of us in the Confederacy." it appeared that even in adversity, their southern cousins had thrived, "Though ostracized, at least there are a handful of..." the young man trailed off, unsure of which word to use, "Welcoming, people there. Be they from the forges of Vulcan or the brains of our politics. But I don't think you're interested in our little Confederacy, your majesty, unless you are then we may continue o-". The man, in his dialogue, slipped his hands to his briefcase, and suddenly quieted himself. It appeared that he was embarrassed about forgetting the ordeal of why he was invited in the first place, "I- I'm sorry your majesty," he stuttered, "I didn't mean to waste your time with a history lesson. If we may come back to alliances and being part of the Imperial Bloc, that wo- would be wonderful. Yes.". The young man, Deep One to be honest, fixed himself in the chair multiple times. Scooting at one end then the other, it was obvious that he wasn't satisfied with what he's accomplished as of yet.

"Indeed, the Solomon Isles wish to join the Imperial Bloc..." his hands were meshed together now, on the cleft between his nose and mouth, "I shall be honest with you good sir, other than your people, we do not care much for the other Confederacy, but what we do care about, is its position, and as you said, forges.". He told Jan to grab a bottle of wine, and his friend quickly vacated his side, "Your islands are between Afrikaa and Zeeland, and are not your average reef in the middle of the ocean, but instead, are about the size of Aclus' isles, and the largest one, Vulkata, as large as all of Aclus' mainland, and placed so strategically as a crossroads," he stated the facts to the man, "Mister... We would be more than willing to protect such an asset, you can consider yourself a member of the Imperial Bloc.".

"Who knows, perhaps if you prove yourselves on the field," Lothar trailed off as he rummaged the inside of his cabinet, "We would look at you as true allies instead of simply being an asset...". Ah there it was, the paper, he quickly signed it. "Sign it here," the emperor pointed at an area in the paper, "And tell your leader to sign this area... Here, this will make the alliance official, and do tell him to make a declaration to the masses.". Just then, Jan entered with a bottle, "Ah, good timing friend," he gestured the Deep One to his side, "Let's pop this bottle in celebration of a new ally, shall we?".

[The Hoosier Alliance]

With the recent failure of the Consolidationist forces in their second offensive in New Skarten, Marshal Jones of Iron Guard Hoosier had a decision to make. He and his entire cabinet agreed that a friendly fascist government on their border, perhaps even a puppet state, would be very beneficial to Hoosier. However, Jones and his cabinet were divided on whether or not to continue to support the rebellion. Chances of success seemed slim and wasting Hoosier lives in the Skarten colony was becoming less attractive. The marshal's generals and advisers were still bickering on the topic, deciding if more support should be sent, if no more should be, or if Hoosier troops should withdraw all together.

Eventually, however, Jones was able to break the stalemate. Reinforcements would be sent to the Consolidationists, enough to bring the ten thousand men already there back to full strength. An additional fifteen thousand would also be sent, and with them enough light artillery for the Consolidationists. The majority of the artillery would be operated by trained Hoosiers, but some would be provided directly to Consolidationist forces. Lastly, with the new round of "recently discharged volunteers" came a message to the Consolidationist leadership, offering them refuge in Hoosier should their revolt fail.







In the newly occupied lands in what was once Aryshtakova, but is now the Hoosier controlled New Indy, Indies, and the state of Yaghuz. Yaghuz was still claimed Hoosier territory, and the warlord turned governor Larmos still had troops stationed there, troops that were taking orders from Hoosier officers and leaders. However, IGP troops had yet to officially enter Yaghuz. New Indy and Indies were secured, more or less, and now IGP soldiers began crossing into Yaghuz, meeting with the local forces and turning duties over to the new IGP soldiers. The local forces of Larmos were sent back to New Indy to undergo training, as the majority of them were militia men with no formal training. They would be issued new rifles, uniforms, and organized into units as they retrain into regular soldiers. Once they officially became part of the Hoosier military, they would be redeployed in their old homeland to ensure a safe transition of power to the IGP.

That safe transition was, however, already in doubt. Small bands of anti-Hoosier insurgents had sprung up, attempting to stage a revolt and push out the IGP. Their numbers were few and training was none. They posed no real threat to the occupation, but Hoosier forces mopped up their scattered forces anyway, to prevent their movement from growing. The occupation was going smoothly.

Hoosier forces had also successfully secured what was once the norther third of Hettusa, but was now part of New Indy. The IGP government had agreed to a plan with their ally Breyburg to divide the old state of Hettausa into 1/3 and 2/3 occupational zones, with the larger chunk going to Breyburg.

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Field Headquarters
Opus
November 10, 1926

The seizure of Opus had been quick and for the most part painless. With many people loyal to the Srivanskan government, which was allied with Nihon, Nihonese troops managed to capture government and military buildings quickly. Now, fortifications were being built along the border with Yaghuz, and with Torsan, to serve as a defensive line against whomever attacked. There had been resistance from the commies, but now they were being pushed back into Torsan and troops were moving now to invade Torsan. With the capture of annexed Opus, now renamed the Provisional Government of Suribanshika, it added a new population of 29,549,978 more people, which would be positive.

Seal of the Emperor of Nihon

Today is a great day, one in which by official Imperial decree, Nihon formally annexes all of Opus under Nihonese control, as Suribanshika.

Field Headquarters
The Consolidated Republic Of Jarńaw Border
Manchuko
November 15, 1926

With the new permission from Skarten to secure their rebelling territory, rumor of some Hoosier men joining in, Nihonese troops of the 2 divisions sent to the border began firing their artillery, softening up spots a few hours before the infantry ran in, at this point, facing little opposition. A significant amount of ground had been gained by the time the rebels mounted the defensive, and after a few hours of intense fighting, a standstill was reached. Though the men had only 14 armored cars and tankettes supporting them, bombers and fighters flew overhead, helping spot opposition. Now Nihon had finally helped their ally, putting the enemy on two fronts. Plus this would be the perfect chance to get back at those backstabbing Hoosiers. It was seeming likely once the Nihonese force linked up with Skarten, command of the Nihonese troops would be given to Skarten commanders, who knew the terrain better and already had experience fighting the rebels in much larger battles.

Nihonese Shishiri
October 28, 1926

The Rusklandr bombing with phosgene canisters on the Shishiri capitol was quite outrageous, and if they were not careful, could spark a war. So Nihon couldn't do much. What Nihonese troops could do was request high command for some Unit 731 magic in case of an attack on Nihon, sent to Hallfurt in bombers. Other than that, all that could be done is have Nihonese doctors, and other medical personnel do there best to clean and care for the infected Carriebeanieans as there is no cure for Phosgene. Nihonese doctors had to put on gas mask and protective suits when caring for these people, and unfortunately, so did Nihonese troops overseeing making sure retreating civilians would not infect those on the Nihonese side. A request was made to ready the Western Army Group, yet for the time being they would not be sent. Fighters were now on high alert, and were told to report anything out of the ordinary.

MESSAGE TO CRIMETOPOLIS FROM IMPERIAL NIHONESE ARMY HEADQUARTERS
Top Secret

Nihon accepts your offer at a meeting. All we need is a date and place, and then we can begin discussions on the current situation. We thank you for your loyal support to Nihon and the Western League.

[Guuj Xaat Kil]

9th Regiment, 6th Infantry Division
Caoirigh go Brách!
Southeastern Aryshtakova (unknown to them, Indies), 2347

The regiment had been through a lot, especially those fucking mountain warlords, but come hell or high water, he would see to it that it came out of this godforsaken continent alive and whole, First Lieutenant Sheridan Maugham swore. "Sir, we've located a town on a nearby hill, a mile away at least," Sergeant Fleming called out to him while looking out a pair of binoculars with his shaky hands, "I think it's best we take and use it as a resting place for the time being.". The sergeant handed over the binoculars over to his superior who had walked up to his side. The first lieutenant then used them to look at the hill on which this town resided. Maugham then gave them back to the sergeant. It was time to move onward once more.

"Men, let's get a move on shall we?" he yelled out to his troops, who looked exhausted, "We need to move about a mile to a town just northwest of us, don't worry, after this we shall rest for three days before resuming operations.". The men groaned, but the thought of getting a good rest motivated them to pack their gear and prepare for moving out. It took about an hour to round up the men and ready them for the move, but no matter, they would arrive at that settlement in less time. Soon the last man was on the trucks and they left the hill they were on for the town.

Soon positions were secured around the smallish looking settlement, this was done around 0101 and all artillery and mortars were readied by 0137. The sergeant looked at him then said, "Sir, I'll go there with a flag of truce," he informed his superior, "If I do not come back out in ten minutes, we should attack the town.". Sheridan nodded, this could be resolved civilly, just like how they did it back in Salacona, though memories of their hellish time in Syrissa came back up, souring his mood. The sergeant then took a horse and a white flag, and rode forward to the hilltop town. The first lieutenant then looked with his binoculars once more, he could barely make out the outline of his subordinate, but he would appear soon enough as searchlights trained their lights on the rider. He could then see the sergeant waving the flag frantically, and then it subsided, and after tying his horse next to a tree the officer was let in a few moments later.

"Come on..." he whispered to himself, "Don't mess this up.". He saw that Fleming had come out of the town, and had untied his horse. He arrived a minute later, the flag of truce still in hand. "They will not surrender to what they see as puppetmasters to the monarchist pigs," he spoke, his distaste for the town's garrison palpable, "And that they will never surrender.".

"Well, that leaves us no choice," Sheridan grimly sighed, "Tell them to ready guns and start firing on my command.". The still on horseback sergeant nodded, and lowered the white flag and in its place the regimental colors.

"Man the guns! Man the guns! Fire on First Lieutenant's command!" Bellowed out the sergeant as he rode through the artillery's ranks, and when they were all ready, Sheridan said the word.

The town would light up.

[Crimetopolis]

DELETED:

[Vulkata II]

Baptism of fire
Anderson's Slaughterhouse/Makeshift HQ

An embarrassing four hours were wasted on defending the HQ the men of the Confederacy set up. As the final rifle crackled and a body hit the floor, each and every one of the men took a deep breath as they look at the carnage around them to see at least a dozen of their own dead against an enemy force they weren't even sure how strong.

The lieutenant that was present caught his breath and then turned towards a radio-operator and demanded that he send this message to the docks where it would be sent to someone higher in the chain of commands later on.

Air reconnaissance as well as scouting regiments and equipment are needed to take this island. 12 men had been lost with multiple wounded and is being given medical attention as I speak.

We can't win this fight if we just rely on the locals. Signed, Lieutenant Timpestus.

A decent supply line was made between the docks and the Slaughterhouse with the Confederacy's influence spreading through the town with soldiers assisting the local police and later that night, establishing a curfew on 2100 hours with the Confederate soldiers enforcing the whole ordeal as the trust between them and the R.S.F was rather slim at the time when they found out some conscripts defected against the enemy.


Back home, the message was easily sent and the Ministry of War would pick it up when the existence of the letter was materialized by a clerk among other messages. As they read the letter, many bicker among themselves as to how they could support it through multiple means of land, sea, and air, all the while the forges and research of Vulcan was developing their new biplane as well as figuring out what armaments it would have.

---

R'lyeh, Palas Fomalhaut

The young man smiled as Lothar agreed to such an alliance, though he would've been asked or demanded not to in any other occasion due to the treatment of his kin. Without such objection or at least one in the form of a piece of paper, the young man grabbed a fountain pen from the briefcase and had the area where the Emperor needed him to do so signed immediately with his signature.

"I- I'll mention the official statement to the Great Leader as fast as I can but I do think it'll take a day or two to get the message across. Then again, I could always swim on my way home." He joked as he hid the treaty in his briefcase and stood from his chair, "Thank you again for your audience your majesty, it- it's been a pleasure to meet you."

And with that goodbye, the young emissary bowed at the Emperor and his friend as they were enjoying their wine and was escorted out of the palace. Making his way towards his ship, he ran to the ship's communications first and asked that a message be sent saying he was successful with the CSN expecting an official statement from the Great Leader.

The message was sent and it would telegrammed once it reached the Confederate homeland ahead of time so that Alberto Anenyo could make a speech.

[Arengin Union]

Somewhere unknown.
Arengin

---

"Indeed we do, sir..." Radberght trailed off, uncertain of the rebel leader's name, the driver who had followed them through the doors whispered "Isaack Vitomir", and so the military leader straightened up, "Sir Vitomir, and as you and I have said before, we have much to discuss.".

"Yes, yes we do!" Vitomir answered, shaking Radberght's hand. The Arenginian then moved his head slightly and spoke, "D, please bring some refreshments for my guests..."

A man dressed in a dark jacket and wearing a blue cap nodded, "D" did as told as he exited the room.

Vitomir gave the Rusklander a friendly smile as the two men shook hands, "D" then returned carrying a plate filled with shot glasses, the two of them had mutual distrust but they were here for a reason and that was all there was to it. Vitomir was a man capable to hide his true feelings for people he despised, he did so whenever talking with the King himself and he could do it here in presence of these men. The other men weren't so friendly as they looked at the Rusklanders with distrust.

As he was being offered a drink by "D", Radberght spoke.

But first, some introductions, "Ah, where are my manners?" Lee said, he then gestured to the other men with him, "These are my fellow compatriots that will assist you as well.". He pointed at Laurent, "This is Loras P. Laurent, a veteran of the war," then his finger was upon Almos, "And this, is Almos Guthkeled, another veteran."

Vitomir walked to the men, shaking their hands politely and smiling at them as he had Radberght."I welcome you to my humble premises Gentlemen, I would've picked a much more lavish setting but my home in Osloverg was too dangerous."

Vitomir walked towards the table and sat right at his previous place near the balcony, flanked by his fellow conspirators he sat comfortably. "Please, sit, sit!" Vitomir said to the men as the other two were also offered drinks. Soon everyone was gathered at the table. Before Vitomir could begin, Radberght took the liberty to do so as he sat down opposite of Vitomir.

"So, gentlemen," he then spoke, "Let's get to the point, shall we?".

Vitomir smiled, "I believe that would be most appropriate," Vitomir snapped his fingers and was immediately handed a file of documents and he then set them on the table right for Radberght.

"Despite what our rivaling governments may paint gentlemen, our people can benefit much on what we want to do. We offer the deposition of the King's government in a quick and swift move, one that has several prominent high command officers already on it's side as you can see on the documents. The overthrow will be nearly bloodless, at least in its beginning stages, once we capture the King the forces loyal to him will surrender and once the King falls the entire house of cards falls with him!"

The Rusklanders would then investigate the documents to find several reports, diagrams, and pictures of security gaps of the Tubuska wall, it was not as impenetrable as it was thought. There was also patrol movements, photos of guards part of the conspiracy and pictures of individuals targeted by the conspiracy for purging.

"Now, I believe you may ask yourselves, what does your nation have to win in this... change of administrations!" Vitomir said as he began to smoke from a fine pipe. Puffing some smoke he continued.

"Well, for starters you can kiss that hideous wall goodbye, you will also see a lifting of crippling sanctions that our imperialist leader has put cursed on your people. And most importantly, you see the fall of Oswyn's phony proposal for an international body that 'regulates war and peace'!" Vitomir had a mocking tone to him as he spoke those words.

"One we consolidate power we'll also see the integration of Skarten to the greater People's Union, and you will also see a win in this as you will also acquire land farther down the strait!" Vitomir once more puffed smoke from his pipe.

"Later down the line, and I mean way down, we begin an alliance! We build a greater Union of the Svacic, joint governments ruling a single greater people who will then see us expanding further into the world and uniting it under a single greater banner!" Vitomir's words had a grand tone to them now, a scheme that he envisioned with great success.

"But for now gentlemen, we stick to what we have... Now in order for this to be successful we'll need certain... monetary resources. You see many of the officers who are in this or are thinking of joining still see a value in such things as monetary exchange. So what I request is... 25 million rubles. Cold cash that will be used to fund our move!" Vitomir said those words with great confidence, but who knew what the Rusklanders were thinking npw.

[Guuj Xaat Kil]

Deep behind the Tubuska Wall, far from home...

"So, gentlemen," he spoke, "Let's get to the point, shall we?". The man, Isaack Vitomir, smiled, "I believe that would be most appropriate," their host snapped his fingers and was immediately handed a file of documents by one of his comrades, these were then set on the table for the three Battlemasters to review.

"Despite what our rivaling governments may paint gentlemen," he resumed, "Our people can benefit much on what we want to do. We offer the deposition of the King's government in a quick and swift move." But was that swiftness fast enough for the Confederacy to fit their timetable? "One that has several prominent high command officers already on it's side as you can see on the documents." at first the three thought it was a boast, but it appeared that what the man said was true, there were many supporters, "The overthrow will be nearly bloodless, at least in its beginning stages, once we capture the King, the forces loyal to him will surrender and once the King falls the entire house of cards falls with him!".

The trio would then scour the documents for information, especially about the Tubuska wall. They were able to find find multiple reports, diagrams, and pictures of security gaps of the Tubuska wall, it appeared that over the years, more than one hole had appeared in their wall, and soon, it would plunge to the earth like wet cardboard. There was also maps of patrol movements, showing exactly where the patrols went, it would be perfect for the Warplan. There was also photos of guards part of the conspiracy and pictures of individuals targeted by the conspiracy for purging. And cross-examining and contrasting the information, they were able to spot not only structural faults within the wall, but also faults with the men in charge of maintaining it. Indeed, there were areas of the wall full of rebels, and it seemed that those who were to be purged were spread thin. "Perfect." Laurent mentally nodded, this would help immensely, they now had an inside man.

"Now, I believe you may ask yourselves, what does your nation have to win in this..." the Duma Member hesitated in what to say, "Change of administrations!". The man would exhale some smoke in a huff, then he continued. "Well, for starters you can kiss that hideous wall goodbye," that much was obvious, "You will also see a lifting of crippling sanctions that our imperialist leader has put cursed on your people." There was barely any sanctions the Arenginians could level against the Confederacy as of present, the DMZ had been reoccupied for Pete's sake!. The man paused for breath "And most importantly, you see the fall of Oswyn's phony proposal for an international body that 'regulates war and peace'!" Radberght took note that the man had a slight mocking tone to him as he spoke those words.

The revolutionary then resumed after watering his throat with a shot of alcohol, "Once we consolidate power we'll also see the integration of Skarten to the greater People's Union," finally, something that was good to hear, and what he was insinuating would lead into something even better, "And you will also see a win in this as you will also acquire land farther down the strait!" And there it was, the good section. Almos nodded at this, he had been born there, and then exiled when he protested against Cthulhist crackdowns. It would feel, very, very good, if they were able to gut the thorn in their side.

"Later down the line, and I mean way down, we begin an alliance!" hmm, what an odd suggestion, "We build a greater Union of the Svacic, joint governments ruling a single greater people who will then see us expanding further into the world and uniting it under a single greater banner!" The man had devised a scheme that he envisioned with great success, but with what both south Svacic and north Svacic peoples had done to each other? It was bound to be grand indeed, a grand failure.

"But for now gentlemen, we stick to what we have..." Of course, that grand and mad plan of his would happen at some later date, for now, they had the Monarchy and Skarten to deal with, "Now in order for this to be successful we'll need certain..." a curious pause, Loras had noted, there was a rather large request coming up, he could feel it, "Monetary resources." And there it was, things like these would fall on your lap with a hefty price tag. "You see, many of the officers who are in this or are thinking of joining still see a value in such things as monetary exchange." Vitomir had explained, ah people and their greed, be it from Indianum to the Svacic, people had some semblance of greed in them. "So what I request is..." the balding man paused again, thinking of how much they would take from the Confederacy's coffers, "25 million rubles. Cold cash that will be used to fund our move!" Vitomir said those words with great confidence, but who knew what the Rusklanders were thinking now.

The answer was fast, and it was a counter offer, "15 million rubles initial payment," Lee had replied, they were the ones propping them up, and they were the ones giving them the deal, ignoring the glares of the other members in their abode, the Battlemaster continued, "We will pay you 5 million over a period of five months, a million rubles per month.". He had raised his hand to pause any dissenting statement from Vitomir. Pouring into a shot glass and consuming the alcohol in one gulp, the leader of the 2nd Tubuska Army resumed speaking, "See sir, the Confederacy isn't known for its economy," he spoke as if it was a matter of fact, and to be frank, it really was, "What we are known for however, is our resilient industry and leaping innovation.".

"Our PPD-26s are some of the most advanced if not the most advanced submachine gun ever made on the entire planet," he said with a bit of pride in his voice, "And what makes it even better, is the fact its made cheaply and quickly with quality in mind.". He poured and drank another shot of vodka, "We are willing to send you as much as you need in terms of weaponry, be it from the PPD-26s all the way to our largest guns, not only that, we'll also be sending resources such as fuel over for your cause," he then placed a hand on his chin, "Not to mention, if you do have any naval assets during your conflict, we could also supply you with coal.".

Of course, that wasn't all that he had to say, "To all Sheepish in this room, are you tired? Are you tired of other people breathing down your neck?" He inquired, "Come on! Do not be afraid, that is exactly what they want!" He had worded his sentences carefully to ensure that "other people" and "they" were used instead of specific peoples. His first declaration got some impassioned ayes and a few half-hearted ones, and when he continued, there were substantially less Sheepish folk who stayed silent, all those who had yelled "aye" yelled it with passion. "Good to hear, I shall tell you now that this man, Isaack Vitomir, intends to free you all." he declared once more, reaffirming the Duma member's authority, Lee nodded in his direction, "And not just the Sheepish, to those Morvernians of the south, we bled for you once, and let it be known, that once more shall we bleed for your people's sake.". He noticed a few Carriebeans, those who had been turned sane by years of foreign rule, and even then, resented it. "And you folk of Carriebean, your homeland falls due to the actions of madmen holding an outdated mode of thinking," he declared to them, "It is a lost cause, aye, but for your people, independence can still be achieved. Follow Isaack, he who will break the chains the Arenginian monarchy and their allies have been placed upon all of ye.".

"Current leaders of the Sheepish group, step forward, for I bear a gift, a symbol of liberation," and a few men went forward, and he took out something from his bag, a folded square of cloth, "Let us unfold this symbol." And they did so, and out came a white flag with black outer edges and a red star in the middle, and was surrounded by a green field. "To the man behind all of this, Vitomir we pledge our support with a few conditions, and we ask for you to accede to them," he urged, "You will break the monarchy, and we will help you, but accept our conditions, and the monarchy will not only be broken, it will be ground into dust, never to return.".

---

R'lyeh, Palas Fomalhaut

It appeared that the emissary had succeeded in his mission, and now, he would take a small break by splitting the contents of this wine bottle with Jan, and when all was said and done, he resumed working. A few documents would arrive by his table a few minutes later he resumed, and it detailed the various army deployments overseas. The Indianum deployments were going nicely, the 2nd Corps was pushing forward once more after a slight lull, and was pushing through Pansk like a knife through butter. And the 1st Corps had raised the blood stained banner over the Carriebean capital after days upon days of brutal fighting in the streets, after restoring order and incorporating the city into the nearby state, the 1st would recuperate their losses and rest before planning a landing at mainland Carriebean.

As for the Rannorian deployments, the Plais front had seen considerable successes and setbacks, such as the victory at the Battle of Deu-Noord and the defeat at the Battle of the Saine. But overall, a balanced front of deployment. Much of the province except for the area bordering the Warglorian province of Albans had been taking over, and there had been a small incursion made into the capital province of Rannoria, Rannkradle. Plans were being drawn up to make a push to the namesake city, which was being held by the reds. If done successfully, it would be a massive morale boost for the R.S.F and a huge blow to morale for the Rannorian reds. As for the Dehrum front, the second smallest had been successfully taken over, a blood stained banner raised upon the highest point of that island. It took a lot of men, most of which were already dead, but only one island remained, and after that, they solidified their authority there and went home, but for some, they would be left as a garrison.

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Imperial Palace
Gokyo, Nihon
December 1, 1926

So far everything was looking in order, and it seemed all was going quite well in the long run for Nihon. The Southern Army Group mobilization to move to Opus was entirely canceled, and it was decided to have them ready, but not yet deployed. War had dimmed down quite a bit, and now it was time to finally get to the embargoes placed upon Nihon. The only major one was that of Manticore, but that would not solve itself any time soon. It could possibly, but that mess was one His Majesty the Emperor was too tired to handle. He had been suffering from more and more sickness. That is why the issue would not be solved by him for the time being, but instead several of his ministers. Several, mostly from the Ministry of Finance and several other ministries that somewhat disliked how the military had driven them into another war, and with large military influence, the budgets for their ministries were becoming gradually lower. So they crafted a letter in hope of something good for Nihon.

MESSAGE FROM IMPERIAL NIHONESE MINISTRY OF FINANCE TO MANTICORE
Top Secret

The Nihonese Ministry of Finance is now expressing a desire to talk on the embargo seeing as though Nihon has made steps towards peace as there has been zero conflict with a Manticore ally, and there has been removal of a large part of the Manchuko garrison to assist in New Skarten.

Meanwhile, several Kenpeitai officials were speaking in a very important meeting, with Tōyama Mitsuru, head of the Black Dragon Society, an ultra-nationalist/spy/paramilitary group aimed at empowering the Emperor and holding a strong military led state. Also there was Yoshio Kodama, and several other representatives of the Yakuza. The plan was being discussed of sending in Yakuza men through Carriebean, and rallying already existing groups located in Hoosier, to cause trouble in Hoosier, a nation which betrayed Nihon in the last year. The men's orders were simple, continue already existing activity, but up it a notch, to cause maximum trouble in Hoosier. The Black Dragon Society were also to being smuggling more war material from Manchuko and Crimetopolis to Nihon to be used if needed.

Overall the affect of the Yakuza men may not be felt, but it was one way Nihon could act without facing any diplomatic trouble, as the Yakuza is a crime organization, not one controlled by Nihon. The men simply would rile the two sides of Hoosier up and hopefully, cause protest, fights, and at best, a revolution. It was unfortunate, but the men also wanted to profit, so Nihonese officials would turn a blind eye to the smuggling of illegal goods, like drugs into Hoosier. While also the Army would be getting a nice donation from the profits of the Yakuza.

Also occurring in Nihon was a peaceful protest, with over 200 students protesting at the Manticorian Embassy, how they had refused to act on the atrocities committed by the Imperial Bloc and their involvement in Nihon's affairs. 50 Gokyo civil policemen surrounded the perimeter of the building, and although also disliking Manticore, wanting to ensure peace. Due to the fact Nihonese policemen were only armed with their sword and baton, 10 armed men from the Tokko, also a civilian police department, were sent to ensure no violence broke out. But it cannot be said there was no Black Dragon Society men watching the protest, in the crowd, shouting out propaganda, or men from the Kenpeitai watching at a distance, to ensure the protest went on without non-nationalistic ideas being brought up.

MESSAGE TO CRIMETOPOLIS FROM NIHON
Top Secret

A meeting shall be arranged. Thank you. You shall be expected.

MESSAGE TO SKARTEN FROM NIHON
Top Secret

Nihon request a top secret meeting in Skarten to discuss current issues and Ruskland. We thank you for your time.

There was some good news though, as the ships of the Furutaka-class cruisers and the Aoba-class cruisers, both Heavy Cruiser classes, the first produced in Nihon, where finally finished. The Akagi was also near completion, and would soon be the main fleet carrier of Nihon.


Furutaka Class


Aoba Class

Carriebean
December 2, 1926

On Shishiri the fighting the Carribeaneans experienced was intense, and with the fall of their capital, which was a violation of the demobilized zone, but otherwise refugees flooded Nihon and they were welcomed with open arms. The leaders of Carriebean were recovered and given protection, soon to be flown to Nihon. In Hallfurt, a portion of the garrison was readied, to man defensive positions on the coast, and to help Carriebean build positions on their coast.

MESSAGE TO RUSKLAND AND CARRIEBEAN FROM NIHON
Top Secret

Nihon notes your willingness for restraint, but ask Ruskland for a cease-fire with Carriebean to discuss a peace treaty. Otherwise Nihonese men are helping with Carriebean positions and it would be an awful incident if anything where to happen.

[The Traansval]

Kaapstad, Nord Kaap
Late, 1926

Blood poured from the cut on Adriaans brow, but he ignored its sting and just kept running. It seemed like only seconds ago he had been in his dug out, firing away on his Chauchat as he watched tanks and men get blown to pieces, then a grenade landed and Adriaan had run for his life. He didn’t know if anyone else had made it out, but he knew he had, and he knew the Aclusians were on his tail. They’d broken through the lines and were pouring into the trenches, and everyone was fighting a retreat to the rear trenches.

The connecting trenches between the lines were slim, men could only move single file through, and each gostled and pushed for his way through. Adrian felt the wooden boards beneath his boots briefly turn to soft ground as he trampled over a wounded man who’d fallen down, his shoulder beneath his feet and the feet of those behind him.

He ran his sleeve over his forehead, his other arm extended holding onto the shoulder of the man in front of him as they ran through the connecting trench which seemed to zig zag and turn at a moment’s notice. One man decided the line was too slow and climbed over the wall on their side, onto the ground above, only to be cut down by machine gun fire from the trench line they had just left, now owned by the Aclusians. From then on everyone just kept moving, no one bothered getting his body.

They turned a corner and were suddenly faced with metal barricades and barbed wire with several men armed with rifles and a Chauchat aimed down the trench. One of them lowered his rifle and motioned with his rifle, “Over here, hurry!” Adriaan jumped over the barricade and landed inside the secondary line. He walked over to the back of the trench and rested against its wall, falling to the ground with his back against it. He looked towards the barricade and could see an endless stream of men, one or two at a time, stumbling their way it. The line behind them had no end, or at least no end Adriaan could see. Above them Aclusian planes buzzed their horrible buzz and dropped their bombs, exploding somewhere down the line.

Adriaan closed his eyes for a moment and winced as he took note of a shooting pain in his side. He reached his hand through his coat and through his uniform tunic and pressed the area only to quickly retract his hand and grunt in pain. He brought his hand up and found it covered in blood, and so quickly unbutton his tunic and looked to the white shirt under it and the large red splotch that covered much of his side.

“m-Medic!” He weakly shouted before passing out.

Behind the lines, General Smedley Dienskneg looked through his binoculars from the top of his General Staff building, towards the entrenched positions before him. One of his aides rushed up the metal grate stairs and appear behind him, a telegram paper clutched in his hand.

“Generaal, Division Commanders report that the first line has fallen, second line under heavy fire, third line preparing to be hit.” The aide reported.

General Dienskneg nodded, “Send this message; All rear line forces are to retreat to the countryside, re-establish Headquarters at Stetin, wounded and hospital staff get to ride on the train with equipment, the rest are to march or drive. Forces on the Third Line are to retreat and protect these men. Forces on the Second Line are to retreat to the Third Line and stall enemy forces long enough to allow for full retreat. Understood?” He said.

The aide nodded and snapped a salute, “Yes, Kameraad Generaal!” He began to make his exit but Dienskneg stopped him, “Oh, also, don’t bother telling the BRA…”

---

Meeting Room, Loxdon
January, 1927

The Battle of Kaapstad had ended, and in the passing weeks the Boers had been pushed out entirely from the Kaapstad area and now maintained a loose front around the Aclusian positions. Fighting was sporadic and every day a Aclusian and Boer company would skirmish in small battles over railway intersections or dairy farms.

The Aclusians, however, had not pushed another large scale offensive, and its King had called for peace talks. A delegation of military officers, led by General Dienskneg of the Federation, had crossed the lines into Kaapstad and signed an Armistice which had gone into effect December 25th, Christmas, and since then delegates had debated on a final peace agreement whereby Aclusian troops would finally leave the Traansval.

These were the circumstances that brought Jans Tulin, Party Commissioner for Foreign Affairs of the Federation, and Hans Obermacht, Diplomat from the Department of State, together within the halls of the AEF’s HQ.

Seat across from them were the representatives of the Aclusian government. On the heels of their greatest victory, they sat as triumphant conquerers ready to do away with their toy which had come to bore them.

Tulin cleared his throat, “Gentlemen, I am glad that after so many years of conflict, we are able to come together, finally, and put an end to this war. After much consideration and discussion, we are ready to sign this final treaty…”

Tulin nodded to Obermacht, who produced a leather bound book and placed it on the table, opening to reveal a front page displaying the text “Treaty of Loxdon for the Cessation of Hostilities between the Empire of Aclusia and the Provisional Republic of the Traansval.”

Treaty of Loxdon

Article I
All Armed and Uniformed Military Forces, Administrative Personnel, and Private Entities of the Aclusian Empire are to withdraw from the territory of the Traansval and shall have ninety (90) days to leave the territory of the Traansval.

Article II
The Empire of Aclus and its Government shall recognize the sovereignty of the Traansval and shall respect its borders.

Article III
All military aggressions, confrontations, and hostilities shall cease between forces of the Traansval and of the Aclusian Empire, and both shall, but signing this treaty, enter into a compact of non-aggression for a period of five (5) years.

Article IV
The Traansval shall release all property, either of the Aclusian State or Aclusian Citizens, seized during the duration of hostilities within a ninety (90) day period. The Traansval shall also release any Aclusian Citizens held captive, either as POWs or as common Criminals, into the custody of Aclus and its officials within a ninety (90) day period after the signing of this treaty.

Article V
The Aclusian Empire shall release all prisoners, either those of combatants, non-combatants, or criminals, who were arrested or imprisoned within the Traansval for actions taken within the Traansval, into the custody of the Traansval and its officials, and must do so within a ninety (90) day period after the signing of this treaty. The Aclusian Empire shall also release all property, either privately or publicly owned, seized from the Traansval, within the ninety (90) day period.

Article VI
The Traansval shall, by signing this treaty, admit its part in starting the Nine Years War, and admit to its conduct of aggression which instigated the war with the assistance of its allies. As such, it shall, as compensation to the victim powers, pay reparations in the total sum of Five (5) Billion Aclusian Pounds to the Aclusian Empire. Method and Medium of Payment shall be determined by both powers at a later date.

---

Pretoria Outskirts, Gauteng
January, 1927

“Inform me immediately when the peace delegation arrives with news of the signing will you?” President Botha said as he walked down the steps from his house on the city outskirts where he could escape the bombing runs.

“I will Sir, have a safe journey to Kaapstad!” Colonel Benke, the President's personal Aide, said as he waved to the President from the home, the President's wife and children behind him in the doorway.

Botha climbed into the back of the waiting automobile and tapped on the headrest of the driver, “Off we go then!” he said in a jolly voice.

Above them, in the clouds, a faint buzzing drone could be heard, that of a planes engine.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Indianapolis

In the capital of Iron Guard Hoosier, the government has just announced a new infrastructure bill meant to connect the entire country, as well as its new holdings in Aryshtakova. Roads and bridges would be built and repaired accordingly, and the national government would look into the possible construction of more highways to connect more big cities. Railroads would also be revamped, with more lines planned and current ones were to be extended.

Also announced was the IGPs plan to cut imports of Manticorean arms into the country. The reason was the growing Hoosier industrial base that allowed Hoosier to produce many of it's own weapons and vehicles, lessening the dependence on Manticorean weapon companies. However, Iron Guard Hoosier was still importing large amount of Manticorean guns and vehicles to make up for what Hoosier is unable to produce itself at this moment.

Southeastern Aryshtakova

The small town in Aryshtakova had a garrison of four hundred local soldiers. The men in the town were once loyal to General Larmos, but now they are loyal to him and therefore Iron Guard Hoosier. It was a mixed bag for many of them. Even though the Hoosiers government were what Larmos was constructing his own military dictatorship to look like, they were still foreign soldiers in their land. Still, they had allowed Aryshtakova to remain partially independent and keep it's military and government mostly intact, with only the addition of Hoosiers here and there as officers or political leaders. The thing they loved most about the Hoosiers, however, was the protection Aryshtakova received that the rest of their former homeland didn't get from the international forces carving up the land. This allowed many to sleep better at night.

However, their presence couldn't protect all of them. The town was approached by a foreign regiment. As the sentries shouted, men ran all around, rifles in hand. Women, children, and the elderly hid in homes and businesses as the local soldiers and militia gathered their weapons and took their positions. Many of the men in the town took their personal rifles and supplemented the soldiers' ranks, giving the town about fifteen hundred fighters, the vast majority being these impromptu militiamen.
They began to fortify their positions as best they could, but that most consisted of pushing furniture and whatnot to form makeshift barricades on roads and add extra cover in homes. One man from the regiment, an officer of some sort, approached the town. He was allowed in and he demanded the towns surrender. When the garrison commander refused and the man returned to his regiment.

As the officer left, the garrison commander sent out a hurried radio message to the nearest reinforcements in the area. Just as he warned his men to prepare for an assault, the artillery began.


10 miles away...

The Hoosier Army garrison of the area had been stationed in the city central in the dotted rural towns near the edges of Aryshtakova. The garrison was a full division of Hoosiers with three thousand locals supplementing their force. The locals were, before the Hoosiers arrived, some of the many irregulars General Larmos had under his control. However, when the Hoosiers arrived, they began retraining the local forces to turn them into a regular fighting force. While their training had, thus far, been going well, they were not anywhere close to matching Hoosier standards.

As the Hoosier soldiers preformed their duties and as the locals trained under Hoosier instructors, a message was received in the communications tower. It was a plea for help from a small town close to the garrison HQ. The Major General of the division was informed. He immediately sent a message back to Indianapolis to warn of a possible foreign invasion and then acted quickly to get troops to the besieged down. He ordered two regiments to head toward the town, along with the a third of the three thousand locals. The Aryshtakova born soldiers knew the terrain better than anyone and could act as guides for the quickest routes or give them an edge in battle.

Soon, the Hoosiers and Aryshtakovans were moving to reinforce the town.

[Skarten]

"Reconquest"
New Skarten
Łutszva

A man hurriedly put a suitcase inside a carriage, alongside many others. Placing the last one of the containers inside the buggy, he entered the wagon, taking his place on one of the leather seats, as he waited for the car to begin it's movement. A few moments later, the man had grown impatient. Putting his head through the window, he yells for the conductor to be quick and begin movement. There was no time to be wasted, he had to get out of that place quick. With a rapid movement of the whip, the horses began to move as the carriage at last leaved the large building, now rapidly crossing the stone streets of the city through the darkness of the night, the moon hidden by the clouds. The passenger, however, simply stayed in silence, hiding himself from being possibly viewed through the windows of the wagon.

Some time later, they had at last reached the countryside, the tiles of stone and concrete turning into roads dirt, the view of the city ever decreasing behind them. At last, thought the man, he would be able to rest. This man, mind you, was none other than than Ziemowit Bieslocki, owner of the Bieslocki Oil Corporation and Provisional Chief Of State of the Consolidated Republic of Jarńaw, the man who had, through his meddling and planning, led the people of the south-eastern region of the colony of northern Indianum to revolt against the monarchic government of Skarten. The emphasis being, of course, on "was" and "had". At the moment, he was neither businessman nor political leader, but simply an fleeing revolutionary. He was, after all, a fan of being alive and free.

It had all started with the arriving of reinforcements from the mainland of his enemies. An true army it was, dwarfing many times the size of the force he had been able to construct with his family's large wealth. From the moment this information arrived to him, he knew it would be over. His forces had not long ago been defeated by the colonial armies of the crown, who using all their active, trained men had been able to roughly equal the size of his forces. If such divisions were able to beat him, then an million-strong expeditionary force would easily crush them like a office worker crushing an sheet of paper. Even worse, those damned slant eyes from the west had decided to invade them as well, catching many of the green cap partisans unprepared. It was only a matter of time until the Skartenians, who had apparently already broken through the defense lines on the north, arrived on Łutszva and came knocking down his door. And chances were they were not there to ask for an cup of sugar. So, he fled. Soon, he would be crossing the border with Hoosier, where he'd hide for some time, until he managed to find out a way to get himself out of this mess. Or so he hoped...

---

Since the beginning of the Dobrogost Offensive, only an relatively small amount of time had passed. The expeditionary force sent to Indianum by the crown, as well as the attack led by the Nihonese proved to be simply too much for the under-equipped and under-trained partisans of the consolidationist rebellion, whose commanders, many of which had gained their positions due to connections with the Bieslocki family, having far less experience and military knowledge than what was needed, more often than not making use of obsolete tactics from the Nine Years war or the old continent of Indianum. Adding up such weaknesses, it was not long until their lines had been broken by the ruthless advance of the Royal Land forces. The push had succeeded, the Skartenians striking deep into the heart of the rebellion. Kilometer after kilometer would be regained, the now scattered forces of the green caps failing to establish any meaningful resistance.

By the 3rd of January, Loyalist forces were but within under twenty kilometers of distance of the capital of the rebellion and the goal of their campaign, Łutszva. The sound of explosions echoed through the plains as artillery from both sides continued their fire at each other. Skartenian Howitzers, by far one of the deadliest weapons in the war, made their mark as they rained death from above into the enemy, claiming the lives of soldier after soldier. As they marched towards the city, soldiers knew that this would be by far the deadliest battle of this war, their foe entrenched to the degrees many times higher than the previous fortifications they had faced. Yet, morale would not waver, each soldier knowing that, by the end, victory would be theirs to claim.

Closer, and closer, the marching continued for some more time. As they closed the mark of the seventeenth kilometer away from the city, movement had stopped. Sappers and engineers began their work as simple fortifications, trenches, sandbags and alike, were constructed as to give protection to the infantry in the case of an counter-attack. Field Guns and Mortars were unloaded, operators taking their position among the defensive positions of the skartenian army. And soon enough, they, too, began to fire, their artillery guns now within range of the city. Their duty was simple, bombard the city for exact four hours, no more, no less. The objective was not to simply soften up the enemy for an charge, but to turn the city into an killzone, forcing them into surrender.

---

It had been three and a half hours since the start of the stonk barrage. Just as ordered, the Howitzers & Field Guns had maintained the shelling of the city, which had at this point been in it's great majority turned into rubble. Inside Łutszva, the only word that could describe the situation was chaos. Soldier and partisan alike scrambled to take hiding in an attempt to protect themselves from the attack, much to no avail. The corpses of the green caps riddled the street, with many more wounded who lay without medical attention. Many of those who were quick enough or in possession of a horse attempted to flee, with varying degrees of success.

In the center of the city, where once stood the administrative center of the city, now lay an building half-destroyed. Within the basements of the edifice, inside a bunker, several men stood around a table. They were the last members of the Rada tymczasowa, the provisional council which served as part of the government of the Consolidated Republic of Jarńaw. For over an hour, the man had vociferously discussed which action would be taken. They were cornered, the remains of what they could call their "army" dying in the streets. The most zealous of them, Edmund Soski, argued that the only acceptable decision was to charge the Skartenian forces in an last stand, even with the prospect of death. Yet, his opinions fell on deaf ears, the other members of the council lacking in resolve and true belief of the fight they represented. Many of them were simply businessmen, only in such political positions due to their link with the Bieslocki family. The family which had,on that same day, fled with their tail between their legs.

Eventually, the council came to an agreement. It was, at last, time to lay down their arms and sign for peace, rather than die in the chase of an foolish objective that would have, realistically never been achieved. The order was given, the remaining partisans and soldiers of the green caps worryingly doing all that was possible to signify their surrender. The flag of the Republic, which had flown proud for well over a month, was then replaced by a blank, white banner, the universal sign of yielding. Any artillery which had remained in service stopped firing it's already scarce shells. Smoke signals, flares, all was used. And, soon enough, the bombardment had stopped. From the horizon, slowly, the shape of soldiers began to appear, many within motorized transports, accompanied by cavalry and armoured cars. The rebels laid down their arms. It was, at last, over...

---

The actions of the Skartenians were swift. Upon news of the surrender, the bombardment was ceased, and soon, two divisions of mechanized infantry, accompanied by several brigades of cavalry men were ordered to move ahead and secure the city, testing the possibility of an false surrender. Luckily, this was not the case, and as such, the partisans had soon given up their arms. Once they arrived, the soldiers of the Expeditionary force wasted no time in occupying the city, taking prisoner the remainder of the partisans who were able to survive the artillery barrage. It wouldn't be much time until the full numbers of the skartenian military police arrived to secure the detention of the insurgent numbers.

These rebels, many being partisans, mercenaries or even volunteers from Iron Guard Hoosier, would be put under custody of the military police as to be sent for screening. The majority of them would most likely be given an sentence in prison under the accusation of treason against the crown, with a few of them being released soon after. Men that were identified to have foreign descent, such as those who came from Hoosier, would instead be taken to interrogation under the Królewski sektor wywiadu wojskowego, that is, the Royal Military Intelligence Sector. The leaders of the rebellion, such as the members of the Rada tymczasowa would face the wrath of the military court, with some of them being sentenced to the capital punishment for their crimes.

Consolidationist Prisoners in march

---

The administrative building lay in ruins, the great part of it's left wing turned to rubble. Yet, through it's corridors, two men walked, dressed in brown longcoats. They continued through the corridor, reaching at it's very end an door guarded by two infantry men. The oldest of the duo, an brown haired man, presented an small document to the men. Reading the document, the soldiers stepped aside, allowing the two to pass. As they opened the door, the operatives were greeted by the sight of an large room, adorned in green painting and filled with luxurious objects. At it's very center lay an table of fine wood, it's surface filled with papers of every kind. Documents, they would find as they approached it. This was the presidential office, the place where the leader of the rebellion had taken many of the decisions in his short reign. You see, there was an reason why they were there. These men were operatives, agents of the Królewski Oddział Wywiadu, the Royal Intelligence Branch of the Skartenian Crown. Their goal in this location was to go through the files of the Consolidationists for any possibly important data, such as collaborators or members of the movement.

And so, they began, searching the archives. Just as expected, there were dossiers with the names of men, many of which were well-known moguls in the south of New Skarten, who had been rather friendly to the Bieslocki family and their plot to overtake New Skarten. No doubt, they hoped to find for themselves an place among this supposed new government as a form to gain power and even more wealth than they already had. In the near future, they would be receiving an visit from the government. As they looked through the records, a few particular letters, labelled as classified, took the attention of the brown-haired agent. Opening the oldest of them, he rapidly found the reason as to why such documents, kept inside an safe they were forced to detonate to open, had been kept kept away from the common eye. They were telegrams, all of them, messages sent back and forth between the so-called "Provisional Chief Of State" and the neighbouring country, the Iron Guard Hoosier. Among promises of support and the sale of arms, the messages talked of an great number of men, around two rifle divisions worth of them, who were to be sent to the green caps as "Volunteers".

Needless to say, this was quite a troubling unearthing. Since the origins of the insurgency, it was known to men such as him that the Hoosier would be supportive of this rebellion, smuggling arms and whatnot. But to send thousands of militarily-trained men, under the paper-thin excuse of them being "recently discharged" to help the rebels was not something most would expect. This wasn't just support of an rebellion, it was an all-out proxy war between monarchism and fascism. Taking the documents rapidly, the agent signaled to his cohort that it was time to go. They had to communicate this discovery immediately!

[Crimetopolis]

DELETED:

[The Manticoran Empire]

(Image)
MESSAGE FROM IMPERIAL NIHONESE MINISTRY OF FINANCE TO MANTICORE
Top Secret

The Nihonese Ministry of Finance is now expressing a desire to talk on the embargo seeing as though Nihon has made steps towards peace as there has been zero conflict with a Manticore ally, and there has been removal of a large part of the Manchuko garrison to assist in New Skarten.

To: Nihonese Ministry of Finance
From: Manticoran Department of State
Cc: Carriebean Ministry of State, Breyburg Department of State, Hoosier Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Northern Confederacy Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Norcourt Ministry of State, Aydinir Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Nihonese Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Subject: Embargo

While it is notable that Nihon has taken steps to de-escalating the conflict with the Empire, it is also notable that there is little to indicate that the conflict will remain de-escalated. While the Nihonese government has been belatedly negotiating with us, they have also been reacting aggressively to numerous other states in the region, including states with which the Empire has treaties and agreements. It is concerning to the Empire that the Nihonese have seen fit to move what we estimate to be almost one million men into regions near Aydinir, a nation whose interests are shared by the Empire while simultaneously moving a large number of troops towards Hoosier, a nation with which the Empire has a longtime trade relationship. Under the circumstances, it appears that the situation in general has escalated and that achieving the final de-escalation and an end to the embargo will require a multinational conference to discuss de-escalation, demobilization, and stabilization of the former Sirvanskan state. Considering the presence of Embassies and Ambassadors in Manticore, it is suggested by Her Majesty that the conference be held in Vicuna on the 1st of April, to allow sufficient time for all parties to prepare themselves.

Almaty
Rayy Khaganate
3 February 1927
The 3rd and 9th Infantry Divisions had arrived in January to relieve the 4th and 7th, beginning their own 18 month tour securing the Empire's interests in Almaty. However, over the years since the collapse of the Rayy Khaganate, the Empire had been maneuvering itself quietly into greater and greater responsibilities.
The Empire had built a railway that connected the Hoosier rail network to Almaty, allowing for oil to be shipped from the Manticoran owned fields to the sea, where they could then be shipped across the globe. The Corps of Engineers had thousands of men in Almaty, building additional railways with the help of local laborers. Army Military Police had trained a modern police force, the divisional headquarters companies had organized census rolls and were working on stabilizing the work environment. Bureaucrats from Manticore were being shipped around Almaty, taking account of the local's needs and seeing that they were met. All of this work over the last three years had been aimed initially at stabilizing Rayy but, over the last year, had become focused on priming Almaty for annexation. The movements of the Nihonese had caused many in Manticore to become concerned about a potential Nihonese attack on the Almaty oil fields. Annexation would allow the Empire to add the local population to the roster of conscripts and volunteers, providing at least some additional combat power if a war began. Likely not enough to really change anything but enough to at least soothe the worries of the politicians back home.
And it was this goal, the annexation of Almaty, that the 3rd and 9th would be working towards for the next 18 months, unless it happened sooner.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Das Kapital Region
Presidential Palace
February 1st,1927

President Rachlet Partenbré was up shit creek without a paddle in sight. His gamble in slightly funding a military expedition to Parsi in order to attack Aydinir forces and to ensure a tiny bite out of Aydiniran commerce throughout the area had catastrophic effects. He first stared at economic data, which showed the Carriebeanian Sai worth practically nothing, and with rampant inflation taking off again after he had fired the guy pulling the printers too slowly in order to effectively devalue the Carriebeanian Sai.
The Economy was still recovering on the surface, though there were increased complaints about the poor quality of Carriebeanian Food because of mass famines in the surviving Carriebeanian land. Carriebeanian traders and merchants found it increasingly harder and harder to survive in selling their products. The military had stopped buying them because of the end of the war several months prior, and the civilian population found an infatuation with canned goods, despite numerous botulism scandals and shoddily constructed factories with as lax safety standards as you could get.
Then there was the matter of the expedition itself. Bagges was one hell of an idiot in sending such as small force of ‘peacekeepers’ into such an inhospitable and uncompromising landscape along with their venomous population at the whispers of Carriebeanian Slaving operations which continued unabetted throughout the country, often only as the way for the poor soldiers to make money with their increasingly diminished pensions.
Congress, under the guidance of Partenbré, had recently passed several bills in the fields of educational reform and finally allowing women to proceed to education of a third degree, with the authorization of 130 million Sais towards the construction of two all-women’s Catholic Schools.
Despite the grumbling of the military and indeed Partenbré at the mournful death of such projects of needed military strength (such as new battleships that were cancelled), the projects and programs of a more progressive wing of the communist party were universally cheered by both internal and external out lookers and onlookers of Carriebeanian Society. The first underground water pipe system was underway and beginning to be laid down in areas outside of Carriebean City.

The process would involve blasting a massive hole in the ground in order to lower large steel tubes that would be riveted to each other. It was several of these exact explosions which stirred Partenbré from his much-deprived sleep over the last few days. Though a series of new ones exploded really near the outskirts of the city, then more and more slammed into the city.
Partenbré steadily held a pen in his hand as he was authorizing executions of several Rusklandr approving Carriebeanians on the death penalty carrying charge of treason. Suddenly the pen was violently ripped from his hand as an aide slammed the door behind him, with the entire building vibrating.
“What is it?”
“The enemy! We’re under attack! I have ordered the militias to take up defensive positions within the city.”
“The Nihonese? Those fucking Nips are sneaky motherfuckers on the fucking prowl.”
“No sir, It’s the Rusklandr!”
“I’m well aware of the Rusklandr’s indecent provocations. Fucking giving us a taste of our own medicine, eh? Inform every civilian and soldier within the city to hold every last block. I also want a fucking head count of what we have and could use.”
With a snap of his fingers impatiently, the sound of a creaky filing cabinet opened up as a dusty old document was gingerly removed before being flung haphazardly on the table nearby, musing his fingers over it, he smiled.
“Three Infantry Divisions and One Calvary Division for a total manpower within the capital itself of 80,000 soldiers. We can also rely on Two armed militias brought up from various departments within the capital for another delicious 40,000 armed civilians. They must take up arms against our enemies. With these two combined forces, we have over 120,000!”
“Sir, that is all on the paper, where battle conditions are expected not to have devolved. The sudden enemy bombardment has destroyed several rallying centers for such a massive mobilization order to give them. I shall order mines and boobytraps to be established while we make our plans for escap-“
“Escape? There will be no such thing. We will fight and die in the capital until death. The Patriotic Party’s leader will not run away! It is an act of fucking cowardice to think otherwise!”
“Sir, fighting another day is not cowardice. It is smart to enable the army to lick it’s wounds.”
“But the morale is shattered in the army! We would have to hang every man we see in order to restore order! I would rather have them all die gloriously for Carriebean!”
“Sir, the soldiers see no need for that, oh and consider yourself relived of duties. We would rather install a leader which truly cares for the means of the corrupt officer class such as myself.”
Suddenly a flurry of shots rang out before Partenbré then stared out at the two twitching corpses on the ground, turning to the quick firing security guards, smoke still emanating from the colt carbines they whipped out from their attentive state.
“I shall not be overthrown prematurely, the national spirit and this incident shall enable a wonderful propaganda opportunity for my regime. Is there any other news to officially mark our disposal?”
“Sir, South Landstreicher was announced to have been annexed by the Socialist Allied States of Breyberg.”
“What?! Damn them, We cannot afford any more wars at the moment, we’ll have to save our manpower if our forces survive this war against Rusklandr infidels and heretics. I understand the bitter losses the cartographers with feverent nationalistic feelings will endure, but It shall enable our country to breath again. We’ll simply post a diplomatic notice and condemn their Annexation. As we are currently embroiled in a war against Ruskland again, we’ll just have to kick up a diplomatic hissy fit over the land.”
“Yes sir. Our military is not well equipped, nor has it ever been.”
“That’s the good old Carriebeanian Incompetence talking, or the copious amounts of whiskey I’ve had. I can’t tell at this point. Probably the latter. Now, just prepare the troops for battle. We have a capital to defend.”
As the aide turned to leave, a folded note from Congress jabbed at the insides of his jacket, causing him to come about and hand it to the president.
“Partenbré, this was passed unanimously in Congress for you to sign.”
The President simply waved his fingers with a pen across the bottom dotted x before handing it back to him, unaware of what he had just signed. Suddenly, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Joseph Birmingham Harold (a holdover from Washvelt’s cabinet positions purely because of the laziness to hire a new one) entered the room and dumped yet another letter on the oak desk. Sighing, Partenbré sliced open the envelope with his trusted pocket bayonet and mused through the contents. It was addressed to the Carriebeanian Ministry of State. While such an office was nonexistent in the Carriebeanian government, the Office of Foreign Affairs was more than happy to take it up with them.

To:Manticorian Department of State
From:Carriebeanian Office of Foreign Affairs, headed by Carriebeanian Minister of Foreign Affairs Joseph Birmingham Harold
Carriebean’s public interest with the situation regarding Nihon and Aydinir disputes has always been one of mutual agreement in common areas. Despite the regrettable outbreak of hostilities between both sides, Carriebean has nonetheless been committed to backing their Nihonese allies.

Should the situation between Nihon and Hoosier escalate, which the ministers wish for peace as an alternative with negotiations as a secondary objective, then Carriebean shall be forced to back up her ally with military force and a declaration of war on Hoosier. However, as this has not happened as of yet, Carriebean shall maintain neutrality in the conflict as of now.
In response to the second offer, We have opted to send Carriebeanian General of the Empire Travis Revan as our top diplomatic representative to Vicuna by no later than April First of this year.

Carriebean City
Gorgy Region

Bullets rippled past several large rivers of blood akin to stones being skipped along a lake by playful children. It might have been an ideal scene if not for the screams of agony which emanated from dying boys who cried out for their mothers, often being at an age where they expected a kiss goodnight from mother and believed in the boogey monster under their thatch huts.
Tensun Third Class Commander Rachel Thornberrui fiddled with the Nihon made Arisaka Bolt with much frustration before tossing the firearm aside for a proper, if outdated, Carriebeanian Revolving Carbine. The weapon would fire spotlessly this time, slamming into the head of an advancing Rusklandr soldier.
The soldier would then encourage more of his comrades onward in the ensuing fight. Nearly every window had been blasted or rippled with gunfire and bullet holes, with large artillery shells slamming into coal depositories which held carbines and their precious ammunition ranks.
Thornberrui soon sees a man riding on horseback, firing once, the man slumps off the horse with a thud on the cobblestone pathway and roadworks in a pool of blood. Another Carriebeanian soldier stumbles over him in the middle of combat and picks up a communication from headquarters.

TO: All Carriebeanian Units in the City
Fight to the last man, Do not let them get so much as a toehold in the city. If need be, commit atrocities immediately against peoples who are insufficiently patriotic or nationalistic for the Carriebeanian Tricolor of Black, White and Red.
FROM: General of the Empire Travis Revan, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Carriebeanian Army, on orders from President Rachlet Partenbré.

“Shit. I guess Partenbré’s really lost his marbles. Isn’t he some seventy-year-old man leading the army? No wonder why we’re losing. Well that and I don’t see a damn plane in the sky that’s not peppering us with some good old-fashioned bombs.”
He then examined the overall area which he was to defend. It was infeasible of a point, with numerous alleyways to dispatch his increasingly strained numbers of forces. He then took a notice of the large medieval structure that was imposing itself along the local terrain. Fort Orwell, with plenty of gunpowder for thousands of rifles. If the enemy was to capture such a massive position, it would enable them to impose firepower with impunity all across the area. This had to be prevented.
“Motherfuckers! Signal Fort Orwell that the Mounted Motherfuckers of the Mounty Region are to reinforce them immediately!”
“Sir! That unit is only at 25 percent full strength. It will take away from our overall frontline combat strength.”
Thornberrui simply shot him a ‘do I give a shit what you’re opinion is’ sort of look and fired the pistol in the air eight times followed by a carbine fire four times to signal the order to the mounted motherfuckers to ride forwards.
With a triumphant cheer, the mounted horsemen charged forwards into the confused and bloody battle, with scores of them being shot off their Calvary rides, with some taking up positions as makeshift infantry that continued to fight until annihilation. Of the seventy five mounted motherfuckers, only one (now horseless) straggled to the reserve line, scarcely catching up on no more than fifteen minutes of sleep before another enemy assault was launched against the positions surrounding the Congressional Building.
The situation was getting increasingly desperate, with Carriebeanian units being reduced from 1,000 strong to just 50 at best. Many units lost as much as 90% of their effective combat efficiency and strength. The amount of fresh water, limited as it was, was being stripped tighter and tighter per unit, with scarcely a swig for three men directed to quench the thirsts of over a thousand. It was common to see Carriebeanian units desert their posts in order to steal water from civilians.

Carriebean City
Das Kapital Region
Congressional Meetinghouse
Outside

“Heads down!” Armed Congressman Doorman Fletcher (Patrotic-Dar) would bellow at the relatively green congressional staff as an artillery shell screamed into a nearby fence, sending sharp projectiles that were parts of the fence soaring into the air at hundreds of miles per hour, killing one poor congressional aide with a sickening thwack.
“Sir, when the fuck are those reinforcements arriving? Don’t we have any fucking tanks?!”
“I’m afraid those weren’t in this year’s budget, so I guess not. Duck!”
With a quick move of the complaining aide’s head, Fletcher sounded off a shot from the carbine that sent a Rusklandr infantrymen falling into the trench, dead before hitting the ground.
“Aren’t we going to move these corpses?” another congressional aide complained to the politician turned infantry commander.
“Why not, they’re providing both good cover and steps to enable us to fire, now keep at it!”
With that, more Carbines sang throughout the hot and smoky day, with the smell of gunpowder being on almost every man and woman’s now hot and sweaty noses from the rampant usage of the colt carbines. The taste of gunpowder grew the appetites of every man woman and child within the unit, with the children being cooked up rather hastily in nonchalant displays of cannibalism that were accustomed to thanks to the poor Carriebeanian railway network and the increasing difficulty in supplying oxen laden wagons of food to the now closed marketplaces. Fletcher unsheathed his cutlass from it’s sheath and smiled wickedly before pointing it at advancing enemy forces.
“Today we Die for the Dar Constituency, Long Live Congress!”
With a salute and hoarse war cry, the delegate and his posse clambered out of the body strewn trench onto the body strewn ground, avoiding tripping over a few of them. The screams of Ruskalndr wounded brought a joyus smirk to his eyes, as it had been his idea to plant mines around the wounded Rusklandr soldiers to enable maximum casualties. With a swing of his sword, Fletcher cut down a tired Rusklandr infantry man while throwing a side dagger at a charging enemy behind one of his allied congressional aides.
“If only Parliament was this bloodied, fucking cowards.” His attention was soon broken by an abrupt stinging sensation , reminding him of bees. Looking down to see his intestines flopping out of him, he would smile before attempting to put them back into his body. His last sight was a Rusklandr infantryman weidling a massive axe. Opting for a witty remark before death, he simply retorted.
“Make the Cut Clean you son of a bitch!”
Clean he did make it, with a fine line decapitating his head, with the large man holding up it in triumph before several carbine bullets brought the bragging enemy to the ground in a rage by carriebeanian aides.

Inside
The sight of numerous bodies on the ground was one to make catholic school girl Lorraine Mountain almost vomit if she had not been used to the carnage of war throughout her beloved capital city. Walking through a back entrance before it’s barricade was cobbled together haphazardly of surrounding furniture and the numerous legislative works and law codes added for additional doorstops. What surprised her first was the smell, not one of rampant human defecation, but one with slightly cleaner looking bathrooms than the outhouses that were now bomb craters from enemy firepower. It still smelt bad, but not as bad as she had been expecting.
Her arm grasped tightly by a Carriebeanian Officer, she was lead to one of the conference meeting rooms for numerous committees, turned into a makeshift morgue. The bloodcurdling screams would give way to often fully-grown men or the occasional child bawling to tears as bishops and priests preformed last rites on the bodies once the medical leeches and bloodletting were seen to have been failing.
Another series of explosions rocked the swaying series of suspended candles up in the air, providing limited light to the tired and often corrupt medical staff which would operate in these conditions. The floors of the facility, once a pristine green, now found itself coated in the new reddish brownish substance of fresh and old blood that splattered from the dead and dying.
Setting calmly down by an exhausted soldier with a gruesome leg injury, Mountain looked at the injury before pulling out some alcohol, dousing the wound in it, much to the chagrin and pain of the soldier.
“Water.” The man would weakly cry out before a small holy grail cup was taken out and poured with a little bit of bad tasting but safe to drink water. The taste hit the man first with a sour face upon swishing it around before he would relent and swallow it now with a slightly refresh look.
“Thanks dearie. Mind if I pray?. I would like to apologize for him.”
With a curt nod by Mountain, the man coughed before beginning with a slightly somber cross of arms to pray.
“Dear God. I know I haven’t been you’re most loyal fan. Hell I remember when my grand pappy denounced you. It was unfortunate that he was taken up by the man down below with fire and brimstone. I know I was horrible to me sis and me ma. I almost was convinced to follow me grand pappy, but there was some faith left in me. I wanted to pursue a law degree, but all them lawyerin jabs were gone an taken fur good. If there’s just one thing I’d wanna do, It’s to git that farm upstate me pappy had fore the bank said fuck you to em. Sometin bout bad credit. It’s an honor to me paw bout it. Me pappy’d be proud. I followed in hes footsteps an marched wit a carbine an me shoulder. I’ve fought hard, but I may just give up now. I hope me pappy’d say hello as well. Amen.”
With an exhausted nod after the prayer was done, the man stood up on his bed, put his neck through the noose with much help from Mountain as the bed was moved out of the way for him to die.

Parsi Village of Domitar

The Carriebeanian Forces were essentially trapped inside the village, akin to a lizard being caught by its prey, slowly being squeezed by the nearby rattlesnake as it would lick it’s lips for a nice meal. The Ammunition supply was moderately better compared to the overall sanitation conditions of the burned-out town, though the one or two stone building unable to be burned down were utilized as a makeshift headquarters often at random besides a hole in the ground.
Tensun Commander Jullian Theodore Willkie licked some sweat from his forehead as the map of the surrounding area was poorly looked at. The terrain of the Parsi area was horrifically cartographed with a handful of towns and various question marks on vast lands of gold being rumored of. The couple dozen prospectors that had tagged along found the expiation pretty pointless, with constant shooting and murder of prospective miners with the little mine work being done before capitulating and marching back to return home.
The longest lasting civilian Tagalogs were surprisingly the homeless stragglers of Carriebean, which were more than happy to be given a carbine and voluntarily conscripted to guard the town if it mean them sleeping in a trench dugout rather than in a pile of their own shit as they would be doing if they hadn’t bothered to read a newspaper covering the expedition to Parsi.

Carriebeanian Embassy to Manticore
Offices of Ambassador Dupont Depuis

Carriebeanian Ambassador to Manticore Dupont Depuis was munching on some tobacco happily while musing through several trade agreements with criminal organizations operating within Manticore. While loath to negotiate with several price raising middle men, at the end of the day it was a way in order to make what money they could off of goods stolen at a bargain. It was nice to know that Manticorian merchants were not that strong compared to bands of thieves working out of the embassy. When the thefts were reported, the embassy simply denied involvement. When suspicion was raised on staff drinking Manticorian wine, the excuse was it was brought before the embargo. A pounding on his door almost made him reach for his colt revolver stashed away in the bottom drawer of his desk, a clear note of suicide beside it in case the business failed.
“Depuis, I have your three-o clock here.”
“Fine, send him in Janet.”
With a nod, the blonde women disappeared before a slightly drunken and tired old man entered the room, not bowing before the ambassador before a Manticorian officer saluted
“Sir. This man was in violation of an embargo our country placed upon Indianum Alliance Vessels, when questioned, he handed his documentation which confirmed Carriebean’s admittance into said alliance.”
“What’s his name?”
“Louis Darnell, skipper of the Yohnannesberg. The ship was registered to a Boer port.”
“Boer port? Oh this just raises a whole nother can o’ worms for myself. This asshat’s gon an got himself in a heap o’ trouble with this move. Damn bastard. He may have been subject to Manticorian law, but I’ll be damned if he gets the noose for it-“
“Sir, Manticore’s laws regarding attempted evasion of an embargo amount to just- oh dear, you’re not far off, but it’s apparently firing squad.”
“What?! I’ll intervene personally on the case and allow me to telegraph something to Carriebean City.”
With that, he opened a second drawer which was the telegraph that fed directly to Carriebean City and the President’s offices.

TO: CARRIEBEAN CITY- STOP- REQUEST NAVAL REINFORCEMENTS-SITUATION REGARDING MERCHANTMAN SOUR-STOP-PREFER AN ARMORED CRUISER- AGGRESSIVE ACTION MUST BE TAKEN FULL STOP

[Crimetopolis]

DELETED

[Aclus]

Meeting Room, London
January 1927
To end a Chapter

Within the following days that saw the end of the Boer war and the cease of Boer hostilities, the Battle of Kaapstad had been victorious for the weary Aclusian army, improving morale by a somewhat reasonable amount. The Boer front line defenses was now weak and about to crumble within more pressure, however all plans had been entirely called off by the War cabinet following the armistice signed in the late days of last year. Now with the official fighting over, it was now up to the politicians to take over from the Army.

With the storm of war officially ending on the 25th of December, ironically Christmas day, the meeting in the great halls of the Aclusian empires parliament building where the defeated Boer representatives were invited and seated. Opposite of them of course was the men of the Aclusian representatives. This included the King and the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain also being in attendance with Field Marshall Sir Douglas Haig.

Notable men in attendance were also of course the Chairmen of the Aclusian Commonwealth affairs and the assembly of staff officers that came in to watch the signing of the treaty. The building was also surrounded in armed guards of the Kings Royal escort, with officers of the local police assisting to thwart any revolutionaries in the capital. However mainly serving as a barricade to hold the crowd forming outside the Parliament building.

Jans Tulin, Party Commissioner for Foreign Affairs of the Boer Federation was the first man to stand up in front and center, beginning to talk to everyone who was drawn to attention. “Gentlemen, I am glad that after so many years of conflict, we are able to come together, finally, and put an end to this war. After much consideration and discussion, we are ready to sign this final treaty…”

With this said, the fellow Boer that came with him stood up and walked towards the table where the King and the Prime Minister sat, opening up his briefcase and producing the treaty towards them, where they were read and examined.

“Treaty of Loxdon for the Cessation of Hostilities between the Empire of Aclusia and the Provisional Republic of the Traansval.”......It seemed like a eternity that the Boer war went on, but now it was time to end it all. The King and the Prime Minister picked up their pens passed to them and finally, signed the treaty, ending the Great War for Aclus at last.

Treaty of Loxdon

Article I
All Armed and Uniformed Military Forces, Administrative Personnel, and Private Entities of the Aclusian Empire are to withdraw from the territory of the Traansval and shall have ninety (90) days to leave the territory of the Traansval.

Article II
The Empire of Aclus and its Government shall recognize the sovereignty of the Traansval and shall respect its borders.

Article III
All military aggressions, confrontations, and hostilities shall cease between forces of the Traansval and of the Aclusian Empire, and both shall, but signing this treaty, enter into a compact of non-aggression for a period of five (5) years.

Article IV
The Traansval shall release all property, either of the Aclusian State or Aclusian Citizens, seized during the duration of hostilities within a ninety (90) day period. The Traansval shall also release any Aclusian Citizens held captive, either as POWs or as common Criminals, into the custody of Aclus and its officials within a ninety (90) day period after the signing of this treaty.

Article V
The Aclusian Empire shall release all prisoners, either those of combatants, non-combatants, or criminals, who were arrested or imprisoned within the Traansval for actions taken within the Traansval, into the custody of the Traansval and its officials, and must do so within a ninety (90) day period after the signing of this treaty. The Aclusian Empire shall also release all property, either privately or publicly owned, seized from the Traansval, within the ninety (90) day period.

Article VI
The Traansval shall, by signing this treaty, admit its part in starting the Nine Years War, and admit to its conduct of aggression which instigated the war with the assistance of its allies. As such, it shall, as compensation to the victim powers, pay reparations in the total sum of Five (5) Billion Aclusian Pounds to the Aclusian Empire. Method and Medium of Payment shall be determined by both powers at a later date.

King George V, Emperor of Indianum
Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain

---

Pretoria Outskirts, Gauteng
January, 1927

During the war, Arthur York was a man who always chased that extra objective to cement his name in history. Earning his fame as a flying ace in the Great war, with 86 confirmed kills, he found it easier going up against the Boer civilian aircraft the rebels used in attempts at challenging the dominance of the Aclusian RAF during the Boer war. However now he wasn't flying a intercept mission nor a head to head combat mission with other fighter planes, he and his wing man had a secret mission directly ordered by the Aclusian SIS. With word of the signing of the end of the Boer war soon to come, Arthur and his wing man Freddie Alster flew a escort mission for the Bombers that completed the last run on the flattened Boer capital city of Pretoria.

However as the men patrolled the skies dodging flak, they had begun their search for the main objective, the Boer president's very own escort out of the city. A stunt like this could change everything, however it must be done before the treaty was signed to ensure diplomatic immunity to the politicians already signing it, blaming the situation on the status of war.

Intelligence given to the Aclusian SIS however, was not something learned through their own operations, but by traitors withing President Bothas own inner circle, Boers who deemed him unfit to lead them and wanted him dead for their own interests. It didn't matter to Aclus however, as it seemed to be killing a massive public enemy that had evaded its fate for too long. Peering through the clouds, at a low descent came out Arthur and Freddie's Bristol Bulldogs armed to the teeth.

The Fighter aircraft came up right behind the escort and immediately strafed every vehicle on the road, firing bursts of machine gun fire into the Presidents car personally, Arthur and Freddie began dropping their payload of 4x 20lb bombs unto the cars below. Looking back at the scene, only fire and smoke remained.

[TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON]

Gokyo, Nihon
Imperial Palace
December 25, 1926
1:25 AM

Emperor Koshimura had caught pneumonia, and as he slept, he had a heart attack. Medical personnel rushed to his side, but it was too late. His Holiness the Emperor was dead. Regent Crown Prince Hirohito was summoned immediately, and was informed. He was now Emperor of the Empire of Nihon. Emperor Koshimura, was afterwards renamed Emperor Taisho, for the era he reigned.

The next day, Emperor Hirohito officially came into power, and a funeral was held, with a 4-mile-long procession where over 40,000 mourners followed to honor him. An entire herd of sacred bulls followed the ox drawn cart containing the imperial coffin. He was then buried in the Musashi Imperial Graveyard on the outskirts of Gokyo. Emperor Hirohito would now rule over the nation alongside his wife, Empress Kojun. The new crown prince would be Hirohito's younger brother, Crown Prince Yasuhito Chichibu, as for the time being, Hirohito's only child was a girl, born the year before, Princess Teru Shigeko.

Gokyo, Nihon
Imperial Palace
January 13, 1926

The convention a month earlier with Crimetopolis was quite impressive, with an assortment of weapons Nihonese military officials were now considering purchasing. The Crimetopolis offer to enter a joint semi-auto rifle program was quickly accepted, as with the offer of a naval U-boat base built in Nihon for Crimetopolis. Officials thought it would be a good idea to use the bases formerly used by the traitorous Breyburg, a nation which currently poised a threat to Nihonese security. The interstate highway offer was also generous, and that was approved by the Emperor Taisho too, in his last glorious days. The home radios were nice, and would be a good idea, as the bond between the two allies now increased.

Another good thing was that the war between Aclus and Traansval had ended meaning there was a greater chance at world peace, although Nihon wasn't doing much to help it. The Manticorian talk of a conference sounded appropriate as long as their diplomats were were not more stubborn than usual, it should go fine.

MESSAGE FROM IMPERIAL NIHONESE PALACE TO MANTICORE
Public

As you may know by now, Nihon is under a new holy Emperor, and it is a new era for Nihon. Nihon is willing to forgive past aggressive offences against Nihon by Manticore, should Manticore be willing to forgive offenses by Nihon. The conference sounds the be something the world will need for peace. Yet while Manticore may condemn the movement of Nihonese troops to areas surrounding Aydinir and Ruskland, Manticore allies, one must understand Nihon is also committed to protecting allies worldwide, including Aclus Indianium, Ranchana, Carriebean, Crimetopolis, New Skarten, and what is left of Srivanska, by the way which was unfairly invaded by your allies. It should be noted, while not confirmed yet, Hoosier has possibly committed aggressive actions against an ally of Nihon, Skarten, with weapons of Hoosier and Manticore being found by the Nihonese forces that assisted Skarten. It also seemed that many men were of Hoosier origin, something that should be investigated by Skarten, not the Kenpeitai.

Hallfurt, Annexed Carriebean
Imperial Headquarters
January 5, 1926

The latest Carriebean war was not going well, and Nihonese troops had yet to fully bolster their own coastal defenses, while assisting Carriebean forces do the same. For the time being, what could be done was the sending of medical aid to people fleeing from the capitol, and people in mainland Carriebean, many sick and ill from poor conditions. Other than that, older Nihonese Arisaka Type 30 rifles were being given to the Carriebean forces sensible enough to use them, along with ammo for the guns and artillery. Some Nihonese women set to assisting Carriebean forces make ammo for their carbines and to sew their uniforms. Others worked to help dig trenches, and create bunkers.

The Rusklandr provocation was very worrying to many Nihonese, but it seemed all would be fine in the end if this was done diplomatically. A war with Ruskland would be long, yet the worry of such was enough for Nihonese military planners to begin investigating how the Western League had been successful against Ruskland in the Seven Years War. They were also ordered to draw up plans for a limited air strike on Ruskland controlled Shishiri, a limited naval strike on Ruskland controlled Shishiri, and an invasion of Ruskland controlled Shishiri, should the need arise.

MESSAGE FROM IMPERIAL NIHONESE ARMY TO TRAANSVAL
Top Secret

As the war is coming to an abrupt close, Nihon is willing to offer the sale of 100 Nihonese made PMBRA Seishiki-2 Reconnaissance planes, which will be disarmed due to the wish to avoid conflict over the sale. We offer this for 300,000 Manticorian Dollars. We thank you for your business.

[Arengin Union]

Ramsaye Valley, Desurum Province

---

The morning sun was still low on the horizon, giving the members of the 33rd only minimal light as they packed up the campsite set only hours ago last night. A thin line of men on horseback, rifles in hand, circled around the site as a guard. A couple hundred were dismounted, seemingly lounging around but in reality were fully dressed and equipped for battle, and the nerves caused by waiting for what was to come was getting to them. The camp followers; primarily families of the soldiers who came along to cook, work, and be with their fathers, husbands, and sons at war, were already in their wagons at the front so as to be as far from the fighting while still seemingly being unaware of what was to happen.

De Boer scanned the horizon for the twentieth time, wondering if his scouts had been right in telling him that they’d spotted Arengin Cavalry in the area. His men were in position, the killing field set up about half a kilometer behind their current position. At first sight of the Arengins the whole camp with their mounted guards would begin a retreat while two hundred men would form an advance line and slow down any Arengin attack to ensure that the camp was fully out of harm's way before the Arengins were within firing range. Cornelius wanted to make sure that the Arengins would get the bait and be lured in, focused on the Camp and its guards that they wouldn’t see the men on the slopes. The slopes had ample tall grass to hide in but it wasn’t perfect and one soldier getting spotted would mean the end of the plan, so they were positioned farther behind the main contact point to ensure such.

Fantasies of what was to come next played out in Cornelius’s mind. The Arengin Cavalry would charge, the advance men would fall back, and then the Arengins would continue forward right into the crossed fields of fire of two Squadrons. They had six machine guns set up in total to cover the area along with rifle fire, and the slaughter would be combined with the charge of the 4th Squadron to cut off the exposed Arengin supply line and trap them in. The 18th, the pride of the Occupation Forces, the scourge of the Bosrangers, Arengins Finest, would be wiped out by a ragtag Boer Militia.

“Sir, dust!” exclaimed young Eduard Rusten, officer on De Boer’s staff and first person to have spotted the Arengins. Their horses were driving up a ploom of dust from the loose dirt on the road.

The time was now, De Boer realized. He gave a sharp whistle and yelled, “Show time! Move it! Ruten, get your men into position!” While he gave his order he turned his horse around so that he could join the wagons and mounted guards who were now beginning to make their way south along the valley.

Eduard Rusten saluted his commander and rode over to where his dismounted infantry were now gathering. A small “barricade” had been assembled from crates and four wagons with their cloth covers removed on turned on their sides. Rusten had requested a machine gun but all of the Kommando’s supply was given to the 1st and 2nd Squadrons. The men were now taking positions behind the wooden barricade, resting their rifles on barrel tops, poking them through holes punched in the wagons or laying down in the grass on either side of the road. Rusten himself withdrew his revolver from its holster and made sure to see it was loaded. “Hold the line men, make them pay a toll in blood if they wish to get past us!” Rusten shouted gaining a chorus of assent from his men.

On the very opposite side of things, for several days now the 18th cavalry had been trailing the 33rd and what they believed was a large concentration of Bosranger forces in the area. The 18th’s objectives were clear, seek out and destroy all Bosranger forces, rescue major Afanastev, and take all captured enemy forces to the border for processing and relocation.

For Millevski’s men however this was the time for an ultimate face off, and it was for countless other men and women who had died in this insurrection. The Boer insurrection had been pushed out of most civilized areas, they lived in the wild frontier where only small outposts and settlements abound and their allies in the west were being pressured from all sides, if Millevski managed to secure this victory it would not only be the end of the wretched 33rd but also the entire Boer insurrection in the occupation zone and perhaps the fall of morale for the remaining resistance.

Millevski sat silently on his mount, staring over the horizon and towards Ramsaye valley. Smoke from a large campsite could be seen from afar as thousands of Arenginian horse riders stood in rank file behind the major. The breeze was cold as it was still early in the morning and a light mist still remained. Millevski continued his silence as he awaited news from a few scouts he had sent ahead, they had finally arrived.

“Major, we’ve spotted several encampments within the valley, it is a large one.” One of the soldiers said.

“Any watch guards?” Millevski’s second, Captain Lomonosov asked.

“Only a few sir, they seem to be disassembling the camp, we couldn’t get too close we'd be spotted.” The soldier answered, trying to catch his breath from running back.

“Very well,” Millevski suddenly spoke, “We’ll send a detachment, the 4th regiment will move up ahead. This is too good to be true… I feel it,” Millevski stroked his beard with anxiousness, he then looked at Lomonosov, “The artillery battalions should be setting up yes?”

Lomonosov checked his watch, “Yes sir, they should be.”

Millevskis nodded his head with some semblance of relief, “Good, good. We’ll form up, the 4th will ride on when the sun begins to shine and the clouds are away.”

“What about the infantry sir?” Lomonosov suddenly asked.
“They should be getting on soon. We will see what we get from the initial attack and then they should be getting on…” Millevski answered, stretching his arms he took a hold of his horses leash, today was the day.

---

Rusten looked through his spyglass as he practically stood up in his stirrups. The Arengins were still moving, but far off. The young officer snapped the looking device shut with a huff, frustration coloring his voice and eyes. He and his men had sat here for more than an hour now, it was almost starting to get boring waiting for the enemy to attack. His men had stayed in battle positions for all of about thirty minutes before they just sat down and chatted at ease.

It was no use watching them, Rusten thought it almost seemed as if they marched slower every time he looked at them. He dismounted and handed the reigns of his horse to a young Korporaal. He unbuttoned his holster as he walked, slipping his revolver in as he approached the makeshift fortifications. He slapped the wooden works a couple times, as if to test its strength for himself.

“Nervous then sir?” asked one of the non-commissioned officers, a Wachtmeester Adrian Schmidt. Rusten knew the man, knew that he’d been with the 33rd since before he had been. He was one of the former soldiers, still wore the old Weermag uniforms, lots of the men did.

“Am I that obvious then?” Rusten asked, taking off his cap to wipe his brow.

“In a way.” Schmidt replied. He stuck his hand into a hole in the canvas of one of the overturned carts and pulled it open to look at the Arengins in the distance. “It’s almost always been like this. Waiting for hours to fight a fight that lasts minutes.” He remarked, his voice losing some of its jest for a somber tone of remembrance.

“What do you do… to pass the time?” Rusten inquired.

Schmidt looked up at this officer and barked out a short chuckle, “Prepare, and if that's done, Sleep. A soldier sleeps whenever he can, because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to later.” With those words of wisdom, Wachtmeester Schmidt pulled this cap down over his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back against the cart.

Rusten chuckled and turned away from the old veteran to stride up and down his line, ensuring that his men were readied.

The 4th regiment of the 18th Division made haste down the hill and past the treelines and into the fields, galloping quickly and towards the site of the camp. It seemed large and undefended. Sergeant Aksyonov rode in carefully up front of his men as he squinted his eyes to see what was up ahead.

“With care men, rifles ready!” Aksyonov said as he pulled his rifle from the mount holster, setting it on his hip he and his men rode nearer and nearer towards the Boer camp.

“Prepare men!” Rusten shouted. He looked behind him to see that the main continent, with camp followers and carts, was well behind the positions of the men set up on the hills. The semi circle of crates, overturned carts, and men positioned with rifles being the first line of defense before the Arenginians could reach them. The air had the smell of dew and smoke from the fires which still smoldered behind Rusten and his men.

“Hold your fire until you can see their yellowed teeth!” Rusten shouted as he slipped his revolver out of its holster and raised it into the air, barrel pointed up. The men on either side of him were in their positions, anxiety and anticipation running through them as they leveled their rifles with the road in front of them.

Aksyonov and his forces continued to ride on, they approached the campsite and the sight of smoke and some figures moving made Aksyonov anxious to ready his rifle. The other Arenginian riders had their rifles out but we're following the movements of their commander.

“Forward men,encircle the camp. Only fire if fired upon!” Aksyonov said as the cavalrymen were only a hundred yards away from the site. The line of riders began to spread out.

Rusten watched with bated breath as the Arengin cavalry came closer and closer. His men sat watching, waiting for the order. He estimated their distance as they came closer, eyeballing it and adding in a little guess work. When he saw them close in at under a hundred yards, he leveled his revolver and cocked back the hammer.

“Fire!” He shouted in a quick, short burst of an order, reinforced with the firing of his revolver. All at once the men of Rustens company fired their rifles in a coordinated volley against the charging massed cavalry.

Aksyonov had no time to react as his horse was hit right into its neck causing it to fall over onto the grass of the open field. Many Arenginians had their horses die in similar ways while others riders died from the volley of Boer bullets. Bodies of both horses and Arenginians filled the plain as Aksyonov took cover on his dead steed’s body, taking a hold of his rifle he struggled to move very quickly as his leg had been fractured from the fall.

Many other riders also got hold of their rifles as they tried to fire back with little effect onto the Boer line, the few riders that had come out unscathe began to turn back.

“Fall back comrades! Fall back!” Corporal Velekayin yelled as he galloped away with the other survivors and towards the back treeline, Millevski had watched the whole thing from several miles away. Aksyonov and the rest of the men left behind tried their best to fire back at the treacherous Boers.

Rusten watched with a feeling similar to glee but lacking happiness, perhaps it was exhilaration, as the Arengin cavalry were cut down before his line. Many were cut down, many more retreated upon contact with the enemy. “Return fire!” Rusten shouted, noticing that some of the fallen soldiers were unharmed and continued firing at the Boer soldiers. Seeing the first part of the plan succeed, Rusten rushed over to Wachtmeester Schmidt.

“Take fifty men and continue to hold this wall, I’ll take the rest and make our way back to the main line. You just need to stay long enough to draw them in, then run like hell man.” Rusten ordered.

“You can count on us Sir, we’ll hold as needed.” Schmidt replied as he thumbed a stripper clip into his mosin.

“Good, good.” Rusten said as he left the Wachtmeester to gather up the men of his company. “You men there, come with me.” he shouted, calling over sections of the line, leaving only Schmidts men. Many were continuing to exchange fire with the wounded or abandoned Arengins, “Ceasefire men, let them limp back to their lines, conserve your ammunition!” Rusten shouted, his order being enforced by Schmidt.

“Let's move!” Rusten ordered, a bit over a hundred or so odd men following behind him at a jogging pace so they could reach the main line before the Arengins attacked again.

Aksyonov kept firing, all the while other Arenginian riders who had come out unharmed began to help up their comrades, many of them limping they tried their best to either get a hold of a surviving horse or head back to the treeline. Aksyonov himself was helped up by a soldier.

“Sergeant, their massacring us!” The horsemen said helping up the officer.

“We must head back now!” Aksyonov said while setting his rifle on his shoulder and taking out his revolver, firing back at the Boers.

Through his binoculars Millevski had seen the whole thing, “I knew it…” He murmured himself with anger. Those wretched Boer wouldn’t make it so easy.

“Your orders Major?” Captain Lomonosov asked, still on his horse and worried for their men down on the valley.

Millevski took little pleasure in seeing his men trapped, they had to take action and now. The major had swore he’d cursed himself before having to rely on his backup forces but he had no choice now. “Call in on the 125th, the 306th, and the 107th to advance. Signal the artillery to fire on Grid 228732!” Millevski said as he set his binoculars aside, the Captain nodded as he gave the order to the messengers of the division who rode faster than the speed of light towards the infantry forces scattered around the outskirts of the valley and the artillery line just a mile back.

The rest of the 4th regiment had come back, exhausted and in a rush. Within the artillery line the messenger of the 18th had arrived, his horse tired as it began drinking from the water containers. The artillery officer, Colonel Ulinov approached the messenger, “Message from the Major sir!” the messenger handed the orders to the Colonel who read them without haste and soon enough the artillery pieces began to set up.

“GRID 228732!” An officer yelled out as the artillery teams prepared the cannons. Soon all pieces were set.

“FIRE!” And in an instant a massive barrage began, the shells flew miles up into the air and soon enough headed over to the Boer lines in the valley, some of the barrage heading also towards the open field were some wounded Arenginians remained.

The sound of the Arengin guns echoed across the valley, reaching their targets before the shells did. Rusten looked back to see explosions rock the ground as he stared in horror at the spot where he had left fifty of his men. Behind him he could also hear and feel the shells falling.

“Scatter! Scatter to the hills men, regroup with the main line!” Rusten ordered, following his own order with his men by running to the side. Hundreds of meters away was the thick forest which grew on the edges of the valley, once covering it completely but having much of its size cut down by loggers and trail blazers. It was there that Rusten would make the stand with the other men of the 33rd.

Before he ducked into the tall grass and brush, he looked back at the barricade some few hundred meters away. He could see that the men were still there and had taken to firing potshots while also ducking and moving to avoid the shells. He could see Wachtmeester Schmidt directing the men. Rusten had ordered him to retreat in situations like this, but he knew that no retreat would happen. Schmidt and his men were going to hold to the last to buy the rest of the company time. Schmidt turned and looked back, probably attempting to gauge how far the company had gotten, and his eyes linked with Rusten. Rusten half heartedly waved for Schmidt to retreat, but the battered sergeant simply shook his head no and saluted before turning back to his duty. With that, Rusten disappeared into the grass.

As the barrage of artillery began to fall onto the scrambling Boers, Millevski could only smirk at the sight from afar.

“Sir, the infantry is beginning its advance!” Captain Molonosov announced, Millevski observed from his binoculars once more to see the thousands of soldiers beginning to advance from within the bushes and trees and towards the inner canyon. On the surrounding outskirts, more lines of soldiers would begin to advance.

“Good, then they will need our help…” Millevski said as he set aside his binoculars and unsheathed his sword, followed by his subordinate the Major raised his sword to his men, galloping quick as they chanted “URA.”

“Men, the infantry is advancing and the artillery shall cease the barrage in a few minutes, we shall attack the Enemy lines and destroy the 33rd and any of the remaining Boer forces until they are no more!” Millevski’s words were met with more chants.

“We shall ride for our King, we shall ride for our Country, we ride for our People! URA!” With that Millevski’s horse raised its front legs before being led down the hill and towards the valley. The Boers would see the artillery cease and allow them to rest, only to then meet the sight of thousands of Arenginian soldiers advancing from the treeline along with the 18th moving from the northeast. On the outskirts even more soldiers of the Arenginian infantry advancing fast onto the Boers.

---

St. Osloverg, Slavic Kingdom of the Arengin Union
Winter, 1936

The cold winter of the Arengin Capital had set it with ankle deep snow covering the streets and rooftops. The windows of the car were frosted but the interior was warm, so warm that Mr. Schlak Burger, diplomat from the Traansval, considered taking off his coat.

The car came to a stop at an intersection and Schlak looked out the window while the car idled. He looked towards the Arengin citizens huddled under their clothes as they moved down the streets.

“We are almost there Mr. Burger, just a few minutes” The driver said in a thick Slavic accent native to the Arengin people.

Burger simply nodded at the driver. His hand made its way to his briefcase, thick leather with brass elements. Inside was a document considered more valuable than gold to the Boer Government, the peace treaty negotiated months prior and now printed and approved by Kongres.

The fight to get the treaty approved have been a hard one. Schlak had refused to testify before the Kongres on the treaty, something which had angered his boss the Secretary of State, but still President Botha had leveraged every political favor he could to get it passed, there was even a rumor that he had agreed to have the Federation of Labor be responsible for the former Arengin controlled areas in return for their vote. Still, opposition came from all parties, with many denouncing how the treaty dictated terms that violated Boer Sovereignty, one of the most contentious being the Demilitarized Zone and its effect of crippling any real attempt to defend the border.

Still, despite the protest, literally since there had been a mass demonstration in front of the Kongres building, the Kongres had approved to ratify it by a margin of three votes in the majority, and so now Burger was being sent with the final treaty, its terms set, and the signature of President Botha on it in dry ink, awaiting the signature of the King of Arengin.

---

De Boer looked through his binoculars across the field, smiling as he saw the Arengins advance. “Just as we planned!” He cackled as he crouched in the brush.

He turned to look behind him towards one of his runners, “Give the order, Mortars are to open up!” De Boer stated. The runner nodded and saluted De Boer before running off. Minutes later the first dull thuds of rounds could be heard firing, as the light knee mortars the Boers had set up began to fire. A little light bombardment to soften up the Arengins as they charged.

De Boer looked to his left and to his right, looking down the line of men crouched in the bush along the high ground of the valley, rifles clutched, ready to reveal themselves at his order, to rain fire upon the enemy. He was confident of victory.

Millevski rode on to battle as he has his saber raised to the front, his fellow cavalry men following close, “To battle!” he yelled as multiple chants could be heard coming from the mass of riders coming towards the valley. The sound of the trembling stampede made the ground shake as the 125th infantry began to move from the treeline and behind the cavalry. From outside the valley, on the surrounding ranges, the 306th and 107th were scaling up the valleys and towards the top. They moved quickly up the rocky plateau as the sound of gunfire could be heard.

As the 18th approached the central valley, a whistling sound could be heard from above, the Major looked up into the sky and then explosions began to fill the valley valley. Hitting several areas as they sent both riders and steds flying in pieces. Millevski and the other riders didn’t stop, they continued to ride forward and towards the Boer lines without stopping as the explosions from the mortar hits sent out dirt, dust, and shrapnel everywhere. The Infantry was cautious as they marched forward in line, beginning to spread out as bombs fell down onto the earth.

“Come on, Come on…” De Boer muttered as he watched with bated breath through his binoculars the charge of the Arengin Cavalry. When the hoof of a horse passed by the small wooden post tipped with white paint, a marker set at 400m out, De Boer brought the small metal whistle hanging from his neck to his lips and blew.

The shrill whistle echoed down the line, forwarded by the whistles of other officers and non-comms. De Boer stood up, his revolver in hand, and shouted, “FIRE!” All at once the Bosranger soldiers of the 33rd stood up, shouldered their rifles, and fired volleys of rifle fire onto the Arengins in front of them. Tarps were thrown off of machine guns and their deadly rattle soon filled the air with both noise and hot lead which bore down on the Arengin soldiers. The plan is working!, De Boer thought as he fired his pistol, more for effect than actually trying to hit anything.

“Up above!” An Arenginian soldier called out as he went prone onto the ground alongside several other soldiers. Soon the machine gun fire began to cut down on both the Arenginian infantry and the cavalry, much of it continued to charge forward despite casualties. The riders followed their major with ferocity despite their losses, Millevski still wielding his saber prepared to reach the Boer lines, but the Arenginian was then cut down as his horse was cut down by a volley of machine gun fire. Millevski’s steed fell onto the ground as he did so as well, the remaining riders spreading out, Millevskis felt dizzy and out of focus as he crawled on the ground, armed with his saber he took cover on the body of a fallen horse as machine gun fire kept coming.

“Keep pushing comrades!” Captain Molonosov yelled out as he kept riding on towards the battlefield followed by several other riders. Millevski struggled to comprehend what was happening as he looked around him onto the bodies of fallen riders. It seemed to him that this battle would not see the end of the rebellion, but of the 18th and the Arenginian offensive as a whole. Bullets ran in all directions as the Slavic infantry and cavalry fired back on the Boer devils, Millevski pulled out the only thing he had of home, his photo of his wife and child.

I’m sorry for being here… I’m sorry… He told himself with an exhausted voice as he prepared to embrace what seemed to be his final moments.

Despite everything however, Millevskis would be proven wrong as then a new force entered the battlefield, from above the valley itself. “Up above the ridge!” A voice called, Millevskis peeked his head out of his cover to then see silhouteded rows of men right above the valley, all coming down in masses onto the Boer lines through the rocks and bushes, it was a sight to behold. Soon the soldiers of the 306th and the 107th would treek down towards the Boer’s on the valley, the machine gun and mortar posts would have to cease fire as they know had to face the Arenginians soldiers charging from behind.

“Major!” A cavalry men called onto Millevski, offering him his hand in aid. Millevski once thought this would be the end, but no longer as he took a hold of his fellow Arenginian’s hand and up onto his beast.

“Keep pushing forward men!” The Major commanded.

De Boer turned around, leveled his revolver, and fired, sending an Arengin soldier tumbling down. “Fuck! Behind! Behind!” He shouted, cocking back the hammer and firing off his second shot. “Get that fucking Machine Gun turned around!” He shouted at a MG crew as he moved down the line, attempting to rally his troops.

He saw one of his runners moving through the men, cans of ammo hung on his shoulders. De Boer grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, “Listen to me, you need to get to the 4th Squadron, order them to move!” The runner saluted, dropped the cans, and bolted down the ditch of a trench the Boers sat in.

De Boer turned to survey the damage. His men now focused most of their first on the Arengins behind them while also diverting fire to those below them. De Boer cocked back the hammer on his revolver and fired another round, sending an Arengin who had just remounted his horse to fall to the ground.

As the Arenginians forces at the front began to get their bearings now, they gathered up as officers and the Major himself rallied them back to the battle. What remained of the 18th kept circling around the valley and was now ready to counter attack once more.

Millevski shouted from a new horse now, saber still in hand and never once dropped, “Men we shall rid this land of these bandits once and for all, for the King, for our people, for Arengin! Forwards!” And once more the Major rode forwards, this time the Infantry ran across the valley alongside the Cavalry which all headed forwards towards the confused Boers. Closer by mere yards the Arenginian cavalry jumped over the cover of the Boers and began to swing their swords with fury at any Boer they faced. Millevskis slashed the neck of one Boer that tried to flee, panic overtook the Boer’s cover as now Arenginian soldiers jumped over the cover of the rocks and logs and into the Boer’s lines.

Many soldiers tackled the Boers and began engaging in hand to hand combat as others fired their weapons with deadly accuracy from afar onto the ridges in support of their brethren which also fought the Boers with might. The Arenginian soldiers fired their rifles and charged with their bayonets towards the Boers, rushing them with no hesitation. Grenades were tossed down onto the Boer lines as well. The battle that once seemed to be on the Boer’s side was beginning to turn.

---

The silvery steel gates were opened by the palace guards, dressed to the nines in their uniforms covered only by the plain winter coats they wore to fight off the bitter cold, rifles slung over their shoulders to show that they weren’t just for decoration. The car rumbled past them and up the driveway, coming to a stop before the illustrious palace of the Arengin Czars.

Schlak planted his foot on solid ground once more, stepping out of the car, and approaching the palace doors. These weren’t the opulent golden doors of the front where he had once been admitted through during the ball, but instead a simple set of doors on the side that served a more utilitarian and safe purpose.

Through the doors and Schlak dropped his coat off with the servants. He looked ahead to see guards lining the hallway, backs straight looking elegant, and agents of the Arengin state standing waiting.

Schlak approached them, hands in his pockets, and nodded slightly, “Let's do this then.”

The various diplomats and councilors had awaited the Boer for quite some time, it was a relief to finally see his arrival after so long. Among them there was Krysov and Andrevich, the two men from the Continental Hotel, but they were not the men who Schalk would be dealing with.

“Mr. Burger. It is a pleasure to beg your acquaintance at last!” An old voice suddenly spoke between the various Arenginian men of the state. One single man approached Burger, he was somewhat hunch but still carrying himself with distinction with his peers. Offering his hand to Schalk, the man introduced himself.

“Ivan Dotskoy, Minister of Foreign Affairs for his majesty… I hope your way here was of no issue!”

Schlak smiled, “The journey was most pleasant, your government has been good to our delegation. Gives me regards to the driver you sent, he seemed to navigate better than the taxis.” Schlak chuckled, trying to break the ice.

“I will make sure of it… Now, shall we get this matter sorted?” Dotskoy let go of Schalks hand and setting one hand on his back he gestured him up the stairs deeper into the palace’s halls.

“Do not worry, I shall accompany you every step of the way,” The Minister commented with a smile, one could not really tell if he was being genuine or facetious, perhaps both.

“Well thank you Mr. Minister, I hope to get this done as soon as possible. Every second we wait is a second in which both Slavs and Boers are slain.” Schlak said, tapping the briefcase tucked under his arm.

“Yes, I am well aware of that…” Dotskoy answered as he and Schalk along with other delegates and ministers walked through the palace. The walls of the building adorned with multiple portraits, trophies, and other decorations of the aristocracy. It was a palace that had stood through time as one of the oldest bastions of Monarchy in the world. There was little talk as the ministers and the Boer walked through the palace and finally approached the King’s studio where he awaited.

Two Royal Guards stood guard at the entrance, they were quick to open the doors as they saw the group approach. The room was as grand and opulent as one would expect, but it was also much humbler than other places in the room if that made sense.

“Your Majesty!” Dotskoy spoke as he and Schalk entered the room. King Nikolai stood near a window that overlooked the courtyard of the palace. The Guards Captain stood at the edge of the room, vigilant and ready as always. The King turned to see the Minister and the Boer Diplomat standing at the entrance of the room, he let out a breath as he walked towards Schalk, giving a nod to the Ministers he then took a hold of Shalks hand.

“Mr. Burger, it is wonderful to see you once more!” The Kings words were softer than Dotskoys, he had a tranquil look contrasting to Dotskoys inconspicuous one as he shook Schalks hand with delight.

Schlak bowed before the monarch and shook his hand, “The same is true for me your Majesty, it is even more wonderful to see you knowing that it is now that we will finally end the fighting started decades prior.” Burger motioned to a table, “Shall we then, your Majesty?”

Not waiting for an answer, Burger gently placed his case on a chair and opened it, taking out the bound leather book that would be the treaty to end the war. It was as large as a man’s chest, and just about as tall. On the table was a brass book holder and Schlak carefully placed it in it, opened it to reveal its pages.

Treaty of St. Osloverg
Printed by Yuri and Sons of St. Osloverg

All provisions to go into effect the 27th of January, 1927

Article I
Military Forces of the Provisional Republic of the Traansval and the Kingdom of Arengin shall hereby cease all Offensive Military Action against the Military Forces or Civilian population of either power.

Article II
The Kingdom of Arengin shall hereby recognize the Independence of the Provisional Republic of the Traansval and respect the sovereign borders of the Provisional Republic. The Kingdom of Arengin shall also withdraw all Military and Administrative Personnel from the Occupation Zone within a period of Ninety (90) days. Any Arengin Citizens living in the occupation zone will have One Hundred and Eighty (180) days to move to a province of the Kingdom of Arengin. If an Arengin Citizen does not move out within the One Hundred and Eighty (180) day time period then they shall be considered a Foreign National and will either go through a Immigration Process for Citizenship or shall be deported.

Article III
All property of the former Boer government confiscated by the Kingdom of Arengin shall be turned over to the Provisional Republic of the Traansval within a Ninety (90) day period. The Kingdom of Arengin shall also allow for a One Hundred and Eighty (180) day period during which citizens of the Traansval may make claim to any private property seized by the Kingdom of Arengin, and such property shall have to be turned over upon receiving such a claim and proof of former ownership. All Property of the Kingdom of the Arengin seized by Boer Forces shall be returned to forces of the Arengin Occupation Force within a period of Ninety (90) days.

Article IV
All Militia forces of the Boer Revolutionary Army shall be ordered to Demobilize and all such militia units operating within the Provinces of Desurum, Lombardie, and the Eastern Cape shall have a forty-five (45) day period to turn in all weapons and equipment to forces of the Boer Revolutionary Army.

Article V
To facilitate the peaceful transfer of power, the Arengin Occupation Force shall allow for forces of the Boer Government to establish order over the provinces of Desurum, Eastern Cape and Lombardie. Forces of the Boer Government will then be responsible for the safe seizure of Militia Arms and Equipment under Article IV, and will be assisted by or supervised by forces of the Arengin Occupation Force to ensure compliance. All confiscated material shall remain with the Boer Forces. Any Militia unit which refuses to comply with Article IV within the forty-five (45) day period shall be declared as not government sanctioned Militia units and therefore are to be detained.

Article VI
A Zone of Demobilization shall be established with a perimeter established at Fifty Kilometers from the officially recognized Boer-Arengin Border. Within this zone the Military Forces of the Boer Nation shall be limited to a garrison of One Hundred Thousand (One Hundred Thousand) Combat Troops and prohibited from constructing any Fortifications or Defensive Works along the border or within the Zone of Demobilization. This Zone shall last for Ten Years after the signing of this treaty, and after Five Years the limitation on the size of the Boer Garrison within the zone shall be lifted.

---

King of the Slavic Union of Arengin.

President of the Traansval.

Ambassador of the Traansval to the Slavic Union of Arengin.

Nikolai took no issue with the sudden move by the Ambassador, it was mostly Dotskoy who seemed rather offended by it but the King’s actions were the only ones that mattered at this time. As Schalk set up the document onto the table, the King sat down on his seat at his desk. The Document was then brought before him onto his desk, everyone including Schalk himself saw as the king inspected the document word for word. Dotskoy was asked only once to approach, he alongside the king reviewed the document and the two exchanged some words but nothing else came of it.

Finally, the King took a hold of a pen and shaking it a bit he prepared to sign the document right at the bottom. He did so with little delay, singing his name onto the document and making it official in Arengin once and for all.

https://i.ytimg.com/vi/OAveoaAeM0M/maxresdefault.jpg

“May this be the beginning of something better…” Nikolai said with a smile towards Schalk as he then handed him the pen for him to sign the document as well.

Schlak took the pen and wrote his name across the page from the Kings signature, underneath the signature of President Botha who had signed the treaty in Pretoria, unable to attend the signing in St., Osloverg. “Your Majesty, I believe this to be peace in our time…”

[The Traansval]

Ramsaye Valley

“KEEP UP THE FIRE MEN!” De Boer shouted as he cocked back the hammer on his revolver and fired another shot. The battle had quickly turned sour and the planned ambush had instead turned into a fierce close battle where machine guns fired down the length of trenches and men had to fight with knives, clubs, and rocks, sometimes even just fists.

“Where the fuck is the 4th!” De Boer shouted. A whooping sound could be heard emanating from a human mouth as a man on horseback jumped over the trench, his cocked hat in one hand and a carbine in his other. “GIT SUM!” The rider yelled, firing off a shot as he continued on.

“I think that’s em right there sir…” One of the riflemen next to De Boer said. De Boer looked over the trench wall through his binoculars to see the mounted men of the 4th Charging and crashing into the rear of the Arengin forces below them, many dismounting and forming firing lines.

“Ha Ha! Yes! Fight on men, victory is nigh!” De Boer shouted, raising his revolver once more to push ahead, followed by his men.

The Boers and the Arenginians kept fighting like mad men, rifle fire had turned into sounds of bones crushing and flesh being squashed by blunt objects, bayonets piercing through the skin and sabers slashing bodies. It was madness while up on the ridge the Arenginian were having better luck with dispatching the largely unprepared Boers who had expected to make easy targets of the Arengininains. Captain Grodor Acabar was one of the officers fighting alongside the soldiers of the 107th as they spread through the ridges and the machine gun posts up top, bayonetting and killing any Boer on their path.

“Kill them all! Show no mercy as they showed none to our brothers men!” Captain Acabar chanted with anger as he fired his revolver at an unarmed Boer. There was no mercy, no end, not until they were all dead.
Down on the ground it all had turned even more confusing as Boer cavalry had arrived, firing carbines and clashing with Arenginian cavalry and ambushing the infantry from behind. Men of the 18th were quick to head on over the valley to face the Boers as others remained on the battle at the lines, Millevski was one of them as he had ditched his beast and was now slashing and striking down any Boer in his path. He would continue to do so until finally arriving at the scene were none other than the infamous Commander of the Bosrangers was present, fighting and killing the Major’s own comrades as fire rained from the top and Arenginian and Boer men fell dead to the battle.

“DE BOER!” Millevski yelled with anger at the rebel, readying his saber.

De Boer had been moving down the line and now found himself isolated. He heard his named called, expecting a comrade, only to see an Officer of the Arengin Cavalry, uniform and face stained with blood, and a bloody saber in his hand. De Boer raised his revolver at the Officer only for the hammer to click with no effect, empty. De Boer dropped it and reached for his saber, drawing it just in time to block the stroke of the Officers sword as it swung down on him.

“I don’t even know your name, so you have me at a disadvantage…” De Boer muttered as he threw off the Officers sword from the death lock it was in with his own saber.

Millevski had no time for talk as he once more struck at De Boer, blocked once more by his own saber. Once more Millevskis attempted to break through the man’s reflexes only to be blocked once more, the duel was hectic as the screams and sounds of war surrounded the two. Both men represented their own people in this time of strife, this was it for them, the time to end it all.

“Your little insurrection has come to an end…” Millevski then said with fury as he once struck with anger at the Boer, this time he didn’t cease as he hit once more and again and again. Millevski could feel his body aching, the blood and sweat dripping down his brow and through his eyes but he didn’t stop as he kept hitting at De Boer with relentless might.

De Boer was on his back foot, retreating under the advanced of the Officer, he could feel the force of the strikes as he parried and blocked. Finally he grit his teeth and dug his heel into the dirt and brought his saber up, locking hand guards with the saber of the Arengin. “You can kill me, you can kill every man in this valley, but as long as Arengin boots stand on Boer soil, my people will fight for what is theirs!” De Boer unlocked sabers and thrust with all of his might forward towards the Officer.

The sudden thrust caught Millevski off guard as he suddenly received a slash on his left arm, the cut was not deep but blood did begin to pour out. De Boer took the offensive as he began to give strikes of his own to which Millevski could only try to block as best as he could. The words of the Bosranger did little to impress the Arenginian.

“Then I’ll kill you, and the one that comes after you,” Millevski answered as he then blocked De Boer’s saber and subsequently swirled the blades around and slashed right at the mans chest, leaving the man bleeding but not dying. “And the next…” Millevski said as he walked back, pulling back his bloodied mug, “And the next one… Until I die… Or until there is nothing left to fight for…”

De Boer feel against a rock, the searing pain in his chest overtaking him as his hand went limp with the saber in it, resting on the soft grass. He chuckled a bitter laugh as he saw the Officer stumbling, “Jesus, there has never been a man in history more in need of getting laid than you.” De Boer looked to the cuts and slashes on his body, then to the battle around them. They were overrunning his men, and he knew all at once that it was lost.

He used his last bit of strength to pick up his saber, then tossed it towards the Officer. “Well, do it then.” De Boer said, his eyes held firmly with the Officers.

He could’ve ended it now, end the man’s life as he rested weakly and defeated on the ground. Millevskis looked at his bloodied up saber, then at the battlefield as the Arengin forces began to overtake the Bosrangers as many of them either surrendered or began to flee. Millevskis was exhausted, he once more looked at his saber and at the man in defeat, he had killed countless of men in the heat of battle but he was done, the battle was over and it was time to bring and end to the bloodshed.

What would seem to De Boer as Millevski raising his saber to strike him down, was then revealed to be him sheathing the blade. Millevski was now accompanied by two Arenginian soldiers on both sides.

“No more blood will be spilled. The war is over for you…” He offered his hand to De Boer, “Comrade…”

De Boer looked at Millevski’s hand, his brow frowned. He placed his hands on the stone behind him and slowly brought himself to his knees, grunting with pain as he could feel it pulling at the cuts on his body. When he was finally standing he simply reached down and detached his holster from his belt, his revolver in it, and offered it to Millevski as an official surrender.

Millevski took the holster, he inspected it with little care but he would show respect to his fellow commander in battle. The sound of gunfire had died down as Bosrangers were being gathered around the center of the battle, being brought down from their positions on the upper ridges and the bodies were being gathered up as well as the weapons piled up. Millevski then gestured at the men at his side to help De Boer.

“Make sure he gets proper care…” He said with a tired voice, the two soldiers flanked De Boer and despite whatever opposition he expressed they took hold of him by his arms and helped him move up towards his rounded up men. Millevski was left alone among the bodies of his men and De Boer’s. Captain Acabar arrived from the ridge and down onto the site of the battle.

“It seems we have won Major… We’ll receive medals for this!” Acabar said with pride as he looked onto the site of the battle. Millevskis said nothing as he just walked away.

“Don’t fucking touch me Slav!” Shouted Rusten as a Arengin soldier roughly stripped the young officer of his bayonet and holster. Rustens shout was in Afrikaans, the only language he knew, but he knew his tone would convey the message enough to the Arengins. His hands were towards the sky, grouped together with a bunch of men, some of them his, most of them he didn’t know, all of them huddled together with Arengins circling them, rifles pointed, bayonets fixed, and angry glares aplenty.

---

The day was clear, the last light of a falling sun brightly beaconing on the Royal Palace. Reporters of both Arenginian, Boer, and plenty of other nationalities assembled along their entourage of photographers. It was a rather ceremonious part of the evening as Nikolai smiled and waved at the cameras and the reporters being held back by policemen. Right at the back of the King there was the large crowd of delegates and other members of his cabinet who had mostly bland faces, at the King’s side there was the rather awkward Schalk Burger, the man had amassed quite the reputation in Arengin and the Western World as a whole, the man who had opened up the road to peace between the Boers and the Western League. He had come from seemingly nowhere to the Royal Ball and had somehow walked away with the blessing of deal for peace from the King himself.

Reporters asked questioned to both the King and Schalk, all of them curious over the events that had unfolded within the palace.

“Your Majesty, your Majesty!” A reporter asked, he was then pointed by Nikolai and allowed to speak.

“Has the treaty been signed your Majesty? What stipulations does it bring?” The reporter asked in a rush, prepared to write up the response on his notes.

Nikolai let out a chuckle, “Well, all I can say is that we have signed the treaty and I must say that we came to a rather satisfying conclusion for all sides involved… Next question, preferably for Mr. Burger here?”

“Mr. Burger, Mr. Burger!” a female reporter immediately began to call, she was of Aclusian nationality by the looks of her blue and green press pass.

Burger looked to the woman and pointed his finger at her, “Yes?”

“What do you say to those within the Provisional Government who dissented to ratifying the treaty, claiming that it infringed Boer sovereignty?” The woman stated.

Schlak stared at the woman for a moment before clearing his throat, “I say that we have ended a war which has lasted over half a decade, which itself was a continuation of the Nine Years War, and that the bloodshed and deaths of all those involved is enough justification for this peace. N-next question please…”

A man with a domestic press pass showing himself to be of the Arengin Media stood up, “Your Majesty, Your Majesty! With both the Arengin Kingdom and Aclusian Empires negotiating peace with the Boers, what say you about the Warglorian State and its continued policy of war in the Traansval?”

Nikolai kept silent for a few seconds trying to come up with a response that was level headed, “I have close ties with the Fuhrer himself and I will do everything I can to bring forth an equally satisfying solution to the table… I currently am in the final steps to completing the charter of the International body that will aid in this sort of international issues and I hope the Warglorians will come to reason… Next question?”

“Mr. Burger, Mr. Burger!” A journalist from Rannoria spoke up, “What about the multiple reports of insurgent groups allegiant to the Traansval that may refuse to recognize the treaty?”

Burger straightened his tie, “This treaty was ratified by a majority within the Kongres, any group which refuses to follow it goes against the fair democratic vote of the people, and just as when individuals or groups refuse to follow laws passed by Kongres, so to shall any who refuse to follow the treaty be treated as criminals and no longer as associates of the state.”

“Your Majesty!” Another reporter called out, a simple nod by Nikolai was enough for him to ask away.

This reporter was of Manticoran nationality, a rarity but they were one that was allowed by international standards, “Has the Queen had anything to do with the sudden assembly of this treaty, your majesty, some say that she has influenced your approach in regards to the Traansval in this post war world is that true?”

Nikolai grimace a bit, but he then smiled. “Well I can assure you my wife is a woman that like any Arenginian women has quite the tongue!” the King’s words were received with some laughs as he himself chuckled a bit before continuing, “But this matter has seen the involvement of multiple associates of both my government and Mr. Burgers. I see no issue in my wife, the Queen of Arengin, partaking in it too…”

---

“The bodies have been gathered Major…” Captain Lomonosov said with a grim tone as he approached Millevski. The man had remained almost completely silent since the battle’s end, simply looking at his now broken pocket watch. For Lomonosov it was clear that something wasn’t quite right with the man but he wouldn’t question him not now.

“And the remaining Boers have been rounded up… What are your orders Major?” Lomonosov then asked. Once more he received no answer, just his commanding officer staring into the empty horizon.

“I say we hang them all!” A sudden voice spoke, it made Lomonosov turn around aggressively to whoever had said them. It was Captain Acabar, the mad men who cared little for anything resembling human decency.

“That is not your call to make Acabar and you know it!” Lomonosov said with annoyance as his counterpart passed by him with little care.

“Oh… well since it seems our Commander is currently unable to give Orders I see no reason why we should march these rebels to an internment camp… they’ll just take up food and space and we have to go on the trail of the few that escaped…” Acabar said with confidence, “Besides, hanging shall suffice, why use up ammunition on these mongrels?”

The two officers began to argue, Acabar was clearly deranged but he was a skilled warrior in battle and Lomonosov wouldn’t make such a call without explicit orders from the Major himself. The two were clearly at an impasse.

De Boer laid still in a hospital tent, side by side with several of his wounded men, under guard by armed Arengins. He was fast asleep, and was unable to calm his men held outside. Instead, it was the young Lieutenant Rusten who worked to organize the men. What little rations they’d been allowed to keep or had been given were collected and given out equally to everyone. Now they all sat in the Arengin camp behind a makeshift wooden fence, on their knees as Soldat Leer, one of the few men who knew the Arengin language, translated what could be heard of the conversations in camp into Afrikaans.

“They’re… Arguing, about us I think. Saying we ain’t worth the trouble.” Leer said.

Rusten snorted, “Well if they don’t like us they shouldn’t have fucking come here.”

Leer shook his head and walked away from the fence, “I can’t make anything else out, the tents muffling it some…”

“That’s alright, you go get some supper. Everyone just sit tight, if there's one thing Arengins will do it, its follow protocol, and their protocol treats prisoners decent like.” Rusten said, more to appease the men than anything else.

The argument between the two captains continued, Acabar wanting to be done with the Boers already, and Lomonosov not acquisancing to such an idea. It was then that Major Millevskis finally spoke.

“There won’t be anything of the sort Captain Acabar… that’s an order…” He said as he then walked off from the small hill and back towards the tents, followed by the two officers.

“All im proposing sir, is that the rebels are not really soldiers.. Therefore they are not protected by the protocol…” Acabar continued to press the issue.

“YOU’VE HEARD THE MAJOR… Now shut it Grodor…” Lomonosov suddenly intruded, stopping Acabar from approaching further towards the Major. Acabar finally gave up and nodded in agreement, though his face said something else.

“So what is the order Major?” Lomonosov then asked, following close with the Millevski as he walked towards the now fenced up Bosrangers.

Millevski rubbed his brow off the sweat, he had cleaned up since the battles end and yet he still felt as if the blood was all over him, “We march one group back towards the nearest town… Then we’ll rad-” The Major’s words were cut short by the sudden intrusion of Lieutenant Colonel Ulinev, arriving on horseback at the camp accompanied by several of his own men.

“Colonel, sir!” Millevskis straightened up as he saluted his superior, the two Captains did as well as did the other soldiers.

Ulinev gave a subtle salute back as he dismounted and observed the hundreds of Boer prisoners being kept at the camp. It was quite a sight, much more when noticing that plenty of them were being treated for wounds and handled food and water.

“Well done on this victory Major.. You’ll be highly commended to General Kirkov.” Ulinev said as he removed his spectacles.

“Thank you sir…” Millevski answered.

“Now, I come with orders of the utmost importance!” Ulinev continued, not even allowing the Major to speak, “I want every single one of these prisoners hanged for insurgency, sedition, and acts of terrorism against Arengin and her people!” The words brought a mixture of reactions to each man, it left Millevskis completely wide eyed, Lomonosov was perplexed and at a loss of words, Acabar had a subtle smug at the news.

Millevski then tried to protest as respectfully as he could, “Sir… I mu-”

“Don’t worry Major, gather up the officers and file them up for a nice firing squad. The cameras will take a few photos and it shall make an impressive show back home like the battle of Nog.” Ulinev let out a rather unsettling laugh, “We showed those barbarian Rusklands not to mess with us and I’m sure this will teach the Boers the same… Now roundup the officers quick. My men shall begin assembling the hanging platforms. I expect a swift show major!” Ulinev then walked away from the scene with the officers, leaving them standing there with a myriad of thoughts in their heads.

Millevskis then walked towards the Colonel with anxiousness, “Colonel… I must ask, is it really necessary? These men fought for what they believed was right… they surrendered with honor and… they are of no harm to anyone anymo-”

“May I remind your… MAJOR, that these are the same men that would’ve had you hung by your own entrails had the roles been reversed?” Ulinev’s words were now much more authoritative, he then looked over to Acabar, “Captain, round up the officers… Major, gather the firing squad at once… that is all.” Ulinev continued to walk away, leaving Millevski defeated and unsure of what to do.

Acabar did not hesitate to follow through with his orders, walking past Lomonosov with an obvious smug. He gestured several soldiers to follow him and walked towards the medical tents, not before calling on the men guarding the fenced up Boers.

“Corporal, gather up all the officers now!” Acabar then continued to walk towards the medical tents where he knew De Boer was being treated.

Corporal Dimidovsk was taken by surprise by this sudden order but he followed it regardless. He alongside his fellow soldiers opened up the main gate, their guns fixed on the Boers as they then spoke in poor Afrikaner.

“Officers, stand up! Officers, stand up!”

Rusten looked in surprise but quickly climbed to his feet. He and a dozen other men, ranging from higher to lower officers, rose with him and came forward. “What is this?” Rusten asked the Guards.

“No questions, out!” A soldier said as he grabbed Ruster by his collar and pulled him out, several other Boer officers were pulled out as well until they were all outside of the prisoner pens. Meanwhile, armed with his revolver and followed by several soldiers, Acabar entered the medical tent and much to the surprise of everyone he aimed his revolver at the resting De Boer.

“By authority of the Ministry of War and his Majesty King Nikolai Oswyn the Fourth of Arengin. You are hereby accused with insurgency, sedition, and terrorism… How do you plead?” Acabar asked sarcastically.

De Boer looked up in confusion, propped up on his elbows, “What is this, what is the meaning of all this!” He asked.

“Testimony has been noted…” was the only thing Acabar said as he then made a snap of his fingers and the soldiers around him carried De Boer up and propped him up towards Acabar, face to face the two men locked eyes. It was clear Acabar held nothing but hatred towards De Boer and everything he symbolized, disorder, disobedience, disregard for authority and peace.

“Smile De Boer… Today your last picture is to be taken.” Acabar said mockingly.

De Boer narrowed his eyes at him, “I am a Prisoner of War, you can’t do anything to me. Someone get Major Millevskis!”

“Captain… the man is right.” A medic then interjected, receiving widened eyes from Acabar, the medic didn’t back down however. “This man requires rest, he is a prisoner and by Arenginian la-”

Acabar then aimed his weapon at the Medic. “By Arenginian law all members of the military shall obey their ranking officers without question… Or should I have you shot right here and now? Soldier…” Acabar’s words caused the Medic to fall silent and with fear.

De Boer fell silent, knowing that it seemed that his pleas landed nowhere. He spat on Acabars face and spoke, “Do your worst” in broken Arengin.

Acabar had a look of shock and disgust at the sudden dried spit in his face, this terrorist dared to defy him in front of his men. He cleaned himself with his leather glove and subsequently struck De Boer right on his stomach, making the man wheeze and grunt in pain. Acabar then grabbed De Boer by the hair, pulling his face up.

“I’ll make sure you swallow those words!” He said in Afrikaner, then telling his subordinates to get the man outside. De Boer was promptly dragged out of the tent and would meet a sight of multiple officers of the Bosrangers being lined up in front of a shallow pit. Each of them was tied up by the hands and mouth. The captured Boers at the pens were held back by the Arenginian soldiers fixing their bayonets at them as a warning, many of them had mixed faces and feelings at what was happening, Millevski was nowhere to be found as Acabar seemed to be leading the entire thing.

“Set the officers on that line, this one gets to watch!” The Captain said as he walked away towards what seemed to be hanging platforms being put together. Colonel Unlinev sat on a fine camp chair, covered by a beach umbrella and with a small table at his side holding a bucket of ice containing champagne. The aging veteran wore sunglasses as he admired the scene with quite the enthusiasm, several other officers including Millevski stood in the scorching sun besides the Colonel.

Rusten turned his head to the side to look towards De Boer, held up by two Arengins soldiers, barely able to stand on his own. He wanted to call out to his Commander but the gag in place stopped any chance of any communication beyond grunting. His eyes teared up slightly as he looked back towards the ditch in front of him, knowing what was to come next.

The two Arenginian soldiers dragged De Boer to a mound only a few yards from the lined up officers. Acabar had personally ordered that he’d watch it all before he himself faced justice. Colonel Ulinev took a sip from the glass of champagne, squirming as he admired the grand view of victory.

“All preparations are set Colonel,” Captain Acabar said with pride as he was given a simple nod by Ulinev and a look of cold indifference from Millevski.

“You may proceed when ready Major…” Ulinev said as he once more took a sip from his glass. Millevski stood cold, his cap covering his eyes from the sun but not from the sight of dozens of men, some wounded, being lined up for what he knew was a petty show of barbarity posing as victory.

Millevski struggled to speak at first, his dried up lips opening to say something Ulinev didn’t care for, “I must protest Colonel, once more that these men are entitled to a fair treatment and a f-”

“Major, I have given you an order. I’m your superior officer, NOW DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!” Ulinev’s calm demeanor shattered right then and there as the sudden yell caught everyone off guard. Millevski was the only one unfazed, he had seen enough that he was not afraid of the reprimends of an old man.

And yet, Millevski could only respond in one way. “Yes, sir. Captain Acabar, at my command…”

Acabar simply nodded as he then turned around to the sight of a finely put row of Arenginian soldiers armed with rifles and standing right in front of gagged and tied up Boer bosrangers. Acabar’s expression said it all, even more so when looking at the defeated De Boer, crumbled on the floor and powerless to do anything. This was the end of the Rebellion once and for all.

Millevski then said, “Prepare…” to which his words were echoed by Acabar in a much more energetic fashion.

“Platoon, prepare arms!” The Captain’s words were followed by the row of soldiers shouldering their rifles then setting them forward.

“A-Aim…”

Rustens eyes turned towards the sky, in his mind he muttered a Hail Mary.

“Platoon, Aim!” Acabar’s words once more filled with pride and a sense of sadism in it. The soldiers then fixed their weapons and took aim.

Suddenly and despite everyone waiting on it, no word came from the Cavalry Major of the 18th Arenginian Cavalry Division. He kept silent and still, Ulinev awaited several seconds as did the cameras manned by his entourage. Slightly turning his head towards the Major, Ulinev looked at him with eyes of anger.

“Give. The. Order.” He uttered.

“No…” Was the only response from Millevski. Ulinev suddenly rose from his seat, his face now in a rage as he looked right at the silent Millevski.

“What did you just say!?” The older Colonel asked, hoping it was only his mind that deceived.

“I said no, sir.” Millevski remained composed. Acabar was confused and so was everyone present. Ulinev once more could not believe what he was hearing.

De Boer wondered why the Arengins had stopped, their soldiers were stood with their rifles aimed but none fired. He turned his head, pain shooting up his spine, and looked towards the officers, to see the older man in the chair jump up and glare at Major Millevski. De Boer smiled a small smile.

“Under section 8 of the Arengin Royal Military Decree, I refuse to recognize your command Colonel and as such I will not go through with your orders…” Millevski then said, his words cold and unnerved, not afraid of what could happen. The Colonel however was flabbergasted and completely lost on what to do, he then turned to Acabar who was just as confused.

“Captain, arrest this man… ARREST HIM NOW!” Ulinev then threw the glass of champagne down on the ground as he pointed at the Major with his gloved finger. Acabar looked at Ulinev and then at Millevski, unsure of what to do. For a moment it seemed that Acabar would follow through with the order but he was suddenly stopped by an unexpected voice, everyone was.

“No such thing shall occur Colonel Ulinev.” General Korkiv said as he walked through the crowd, accompanied by men in both Arengin Army as well as Boer Revolutionary Army uniforms, along with some men in formal civilian attire. To say there was further confusion was an understatement as Colonel Ulinev looked around him with tumbling eyes and awed expressions, he was sweaty and his hair had been raddled from the sudden outbursts and his cap was nowhere to be seen. .

De Boer didn’t know whether he was confused or relieved, really a mixture of both, heavy on the confusion. He could tell by the gold epaulettes that the man who just arrived was of importance, but more confusing were the Boer soldiers behind him, four of them, one of them an officer by the looks of his uniform. In fact, he looked familiar…

De Boer gasped, “Johannes?” he rasped out.

Colonel Heinrich Johannes, officer of the BRA on paper, member of the KvKI Intelligence by trade, opened his eyes wide as saucers as he recognized the face of the Bosranger officer he’d fought with years ago against the Warglorians in Aegyptus.

Johannes pointed his gloved finger at De Boer, “Release this man, Immediately,” he said in perfect Arengin. “Do it…” General Korkiv then said, his words making the Arenginian soldiers besides De Boer do as they were told, with Johannes quickly taking De Boer by the arm. Millevski walked off from the position he’d kept and walked towards Korkiv.

“General, sir. What is happening?” He asked with some nervousness.

Korkiv looked at the Major, he smiled and patted him on his shoulders, “A peace treaty has been signed Major. You’ve also been promoted… Colonel.”

Ulinev was then at a shock, pulling his grayed hair back and blabbering in a mix of words before speaking in an accusatory manner.

“This man, this man disobeyed a direct Order!” Ulinev once more pointed at Millevski, “I want him tied up and executed along with all of these terrorists!”

Korkiv let out a sigh, “I can see the sun hasn’t been kind to you Ulinev… You’re relieved from command and shall be in the first train back home. The Minister himself shall read my report soon, take him away…” With those words two military police officers took Ulinev by both arms and forced him away despite his multiple protests.

Korkiv then guided Millevski towards the Boer man that had arrived with him. “Colonel Johannes. This is the man who shall aid you in the withdraw process…” The General said with a prideful tone, meanwhile Millevski remained silent and with a neutral face as he looked at the battered De Boer.

Colonel Johannes looked away from De Boer, who he had been making small talk with, to look towards Major, now Colonel, Millevski. He extended his hand towards the new Colonel, “Pleasure to meet you, here's hoping you’ll be easier to work with than that older one.”

Taking a hold of Johannes hand, Millevski shook it with respect, “I will do my best…”

“He sure will,” General Korkiv then patted Millevski on the back as he then turned to see the hanging platforms that were midway finished. The General grimace at the sight.

“Colonel Johannes, Colonel Millevski. I believe we should let the rest of these men know the new state of affairs…” The three men and the others walked up one of the platforms where they then stood in front of the masses of both Arenginian and Boer men.

Korkiv was first to speak, in Arenginian. “Men, his Majesty King Nikolai Oswyn the fourth has signed an official end of hostilities with the Provisional Government of the Traansval. These men are no longer considered insurgents, they are now citizens of a state that is independent. Set them all free and rest up… We shall all go back home in due time.” The Arenginian then took some steps back and allowed Johannes to take the word.

Johannes took his peaked cap off, raised it into the air, and shouted, “Die Oorlog is Afgehandel!” The crowd of Boer soldiers in the back erupted into cheers and shouts, none more outspoken than Lieutenant Rusten as he climbed on the shoulders of another man to raise his cocked hat into the air in celebration. One of the Feldgends accompanying Colonel Johannes leaned towards General Korkiv to inform him that the Colonel had said, “The War is Finished!”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that…” Korkiv said with a bit of sarcasm.

The Arenginian soldiers had a mix of amazement and disappointment as they set their weapons aside and no longer fixed on their former enemies. Acabar was nowhere to be found, and Millevski had a slight smile on his face.

“Captain Lomonosov… Get those men ungagged and untied!” Millevski said as he walked off the platform, the Captain obeyed as he then ordered all the officers to be freed and returned to their previous places.

Through the crowds, Millevski walked to try and find De Boer. At least once he needed to make peace with that man, much more now that the war was over.

De Boer was seated on a stool by the pens. He watched as Arengin soldiers, bayonets in hand, cut the binds from the hands of his men, as the moved in single file lines, side by side, out of the entrance to the pen that they’d been kept in for the past day. Next to him was an Arengin medic, wrapping gauze around his midsection. Through the crowd he saw the Major, now Colonel, and he stood up, swatting away the Medic, and walked towards the man.

They found themselves eye to eye, and De Boer extended his hand towards Millevski. The Arenginian cavalrymen who had once been a fierce rival of De Boer took a hold of the Man’s hand. The two men shook hands and it was a mere exchange of looks that said it all, along with two distinct nods.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Royal Army Armored Force
Doctrine and Vehicle Development and Evaluation Board
Stirland
11 September 1926

Colonel Jason Malley sat around the conference table with a half dozen other officers. All of them were armor officers and they had a simple task: to make the Armored Force more effective in combat. And here they had a problem. The Empire's Armored Forces had a wide front to defend and they could manufacture armored vehicles in Dehum, Nuwe Afrikaa, and Tamir. Against Arengin and Tamir, that worked very well. Unfortunately, the greatest threat right now was Nihon, a nation which shared no land borders with the Empire. And so it had occurred to Colonel Malley that they would need to streamline the Armored Force. After all, any war in Indianum would require the Empire to ship troops and material overseas, which would require medium weight, general purpose armored vehicles to simplify the production lines as well as reducing the demand for spare parts, further reducing the strain on supply lines.
And that was the purpose of this meeting. The Board had met to develop a series of requirements for a new tank. The Great War had demonstrated that tanks were vital for supporting infantry assaults but that they would also have to be able to engage and destroy enemy tanks. Indeed, the Tamir and Nuwe Afrikaa fronts had seen several battles between Manticoran and Western League tanks. In addition, it had become clear that infantry could very easily engage and destroy attacking tanks using field guns and heavy machine guns. Any tank would, therefore, have to meet a series of basic requirements.
1. Armor thick enough to defend against typical tank and field guns.
2. A gun that could fire an HE shell for infantry support as well as a solid shot to defeat enemy tanks.
3. An engine of sufficient power to move the tank at 25-30 km/h on road and no slower than 15 km/h off-road.
4. A range of at least 200 kilometers.
5. A separation of the engine from the crew.
6. A three man turret with a turret basket.
7. Weight of less than 30 tons.
8. Reliability and ease of maintenance superior to current Armored vehicles.

Of course, now there was the problem of actually creating a vehicle to meet this requirements.

Royal Army Armored Force
Doctrine and Vehicle Development and Evaluation Board
Stirland
14 February 1927

The Armored Board had a series of proposals for the new tank. All of them were going to be slower than desired with thinner armor than was preferred, and some of them would have a much lighter gun than had been requested.

The first design was a development of the Mark 1 and Mark 2 Medium tanks. They had thicker armor, with a frontal glacis of 16 millimeters compared to 8 and a weight of 24 tons. To maintain a 21 km/h top speed, the tank had two 90hp engines installed for a total of 180hp. The 47mm gun was upgraded to a 57mm gun and 4 of the machine guns were dropped to reduce weaknesses in the armor.

The second design was a strange one. Similar in weight to the first design, it pushed the turret forwards, with the engine in a separate compartment at the back and the transmission in the front. The front hull sloped at 50 degrees from the vertical, with a .30 caliber machine gun for the assistant driver. The turret had angled slabs forming a sort of trapezoidal shape that was wider at the bottom than at the top and tapered to the rear. A 57mm gun was mounted with a coaxial .30 caliber machine gun and a hatch for the commander. The hull had a side escape door behind the driver on the left side of the hull.

The third design could only be described as two boxes on top of each other. The hull would hold the driver and assistant driver with a .30 cal machine gun for the assistant driver. The turret, an unimaginative cube shape, would house a 47mm gun and two .30 cal machine guns.

The designs would need to be further developed and finalized into functional prototypes before a final decision could be made, though it was hoped that would occur by 1929.

[Guuj Xaat Kil]

Army of the Confederacy
February to March

Carriebean Front
As usual, the Carriebeanian insanity that seemed to be a fact with that one ethnic group made for some very stiff resistance in the conquest of Carriebean's capital. Though this was only through the sheer numbers and audacity the enemy had, not through any other advantage. In fact, they were hitting them with their PPD-26 SMGs while the enemy was returning fire from outdated revolving carbines that experienced chain fire from the fact that little to no maintenance was done for them, and considering that these carbines needed to be cleaned thoroughly and the fact that constant regular and gas bombing by plane and artillery for the former and aerial only for the latter, ensured for a recipe for disaster. An average of four blocks taken per hour was made and maintained, and combined with the poor state of the enemy, it was only a matter of time before that average jumped to six or more.

The ports of Carriebean City (as the Carriebeans called it) were an area of extreme importance, it was there where the enemy forces could retreat to and go to their mainland territories if they wanted to fight another day, and thus, destroying it, or at least any ships that could be used for transport in it, became an important objective. This would ensure that they would crush an entire army of Carriebeans, not to mention, it was a good opportunity to practice aerial attacks on ports. The aircraft from the Hawk flew in armed with specifically designed torpedoes and began causing as much destruction in the port. Gas would also be dropped in order to eliminate any personnel stationed there.

They also had to deal with that one crazy regiment from the 3rd Division, which were those folks that were into the ritualistic mass torture and killings of Western League nations. More specifically, the 6th Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division.

Flag of the 6th Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division
Cut Through Everything!

---

Sirvanskan Front

9th Regiment, 6th Infantry Division
Caoirigh go Brách!

"Appears that this'll be an easy one," a gunner remarked to his friend earlier, "We've demoralized much 'a them enemies.". Oh he wouldn't be so sure, if if you wanted to know one thing the first lieutenant learned from his service in the army, was that plans always went to shit upon contact, and already was that statement being fulfilled when they were dealing with extreme resistance when taking the town. Bombardments had taken out much of the enemy's garrison, but their morale was still holding, and they were showing it to them in the form of ambushes every hour taking out much needed men. "Its fucking Syrissa all over again.". A corporal came up to him stating that the advance into the city had stopped, and areas in need of a bombardment had been identified. "Proceed with the bombardment, two rounds," he told him, "Then we resume the advance, we'll take this town alright. Even if it takes us all night". And take it they would, the bombardment resumed for two rounds, then the advance resumed.

It seemed like they really would take the town, but then outriders from the north returned with some news. "We've spotted an army sir," the lance corporal in charge of one of the fireteams scouting around reported, "Ah think there's... About three regiments, I dunno, we could barely see em, but they were kicking a mighty fine dust cloud.". This... Was bad news. Very, very bad news. "Aw shit, I thought this backwater would have only a few battalions near it, not three whole fucking regiments!" His yelling went unheard, as he was only screaming out in anger mentally. "Alright, go to your fireteam and inform your fellows to regroup and return," he ordered, they would need the high ground for this, "Enter the back of the city and attempt a hammer and anvil with our advancing forces.". A 'yes sir' and then the man left. He had another order to give, and that was to advance unceasingly, and to start moving everything to the uphill town.

His little gamble worked, and they were able to eliminate all enemy forces. He was also able to radio Colonel Shepard to send in the rest of the regiment. But at the cost of around 20% of his men. Their garrison was tissue paper, but perhaps he could trick the enemy into thinking he had more men and buy some time for the rest of his regiment to arrive. And so his 70 or so fighting men gathered at the area of the city in the direction of where the army they spotted earlier was going, the support troops were manning the guns. They would bunker down on this hill, and hold it at all costs.

Thanks to the high ground, they were able to spot where the enemy was, and so the guns were aimed and fired.

---

Rannorian Front

As for the exploits of the 3rd Corps, they had fully overrun the province of Plais, and were preparing for a rush to the capital of Rannoria, Rannkradle. But what used to be scant resistance from the Rannorian reds started to turn stiffer and stiffer for every kilometer closer they went to the capital, but they could handle it, a rather large pocket of resistance was crushed earlier in the battle of Mahs-Dai after all, spirits were high and it seemed that the capital would be easy to take. Oh how foolish they were, to think that everything in war was easy once an advantage was gotten. As for the rest of the Rannorian front, the Deruhn Isles had been fully taken over, and the Confederacy would annex it once it was reorganized. Lothar's plan for the Deruhn Ocean were close to fruition, and once their Island Confederate friends in the south took care of Sylba, the next stage would begin, and once all was said and done, the Deruhn would be an Imperial Bloc lake.

[Vulkata II]

[align=center]
Sylba, Rannoria

Slogging through the port town and expanding their influence with the help of the R.S.F, the men were garnering experience and ideas as to how modern war was truly fought though in reality, they were just fighting guerilla warfare. Beggars can't be choosers in their case as they slowly faced off the other three Rannorian factions that were fighting for the entire homeland under their policies.

In the makeshift HQ of theirs, the commanding colonel present stormed the briefing room due to a disagreement whether to halt their performance or to continue on. As he was muttering something under his breath he stopped dead in his tracks as the men under his command was laughing around a pickup truck with four spare Maxim Machine Guns combined together and attached to a pivot on the back.

As they took their smoke break and distracted by their new invention that they barely noticed the angry commanding officer rush towards them in a frenzy.

"What have you fucking done?!" The veteran shouted as the trooper brandishing his new invention jumped off the pickup truck as the colonel came face to face with it, observing the amalgamation of a transport and weapon together and was both dumbfounded and dazzled by it. Pinching both of his eyes in frustration, the colonel turned to the men, "I better not see anymore of these fuckups. Disassemble this now until further notice, we might need it one day."

As he turned his back around the deadly unarmorless vehicle, the trooper that created it poked his head up and began to disassemble it with a spanner as the men around them just chatted their day away with trivial matters that didn't relate much to the war.

---

Unity Hall, Vulkata
The telegram was received finally, days before the emissary could arrive and once received by a clerk present at the time, she read it immediately before rushing towards to a nearby telephone and dialing the number directly to the office of the Great Leader.

"Great Leader! YOU NEED TO READ THIS NOW!"


As the message was forwarded to him, he was planning already.

A few days later, many people crowded at Unity Hall as they saw the Great Leader Alberto Anenyo with multiple mics, those who couldn't come was made aware through radio and television to those that could've afford either or listened inside a recreational place. As the crowd multiplied one after another, the Great Leader was prepared to make his speech.

"I come to you all to announce a great bond between our Confederacy, and the Confederacy of the Northern States as well as the Imperial Bloc. In this time of need and occupation of other nations, we cannot be left alone and we cannot leave any of our new allies on their own as an alliance means we all have to lean on one another, not one for another.

"With their protection, the forges of Vulcan and its daughters, shall lit anew and forge anew, weapons that we can't even possibly imagine making, like the PPD-26 from the CSN themselves. Though our experience in warfare is dim and insignificant, our experience of creating instruments of war is far from their truths.

"In their steed, we must try our best to help our allies as our allies will try to help us in keeping our autonomy and our unity together with each and every island having their own uses, even those that we deem unnecessary of their existence have been useful, and if they had been useful, who is to say that not all of us, if not the whole island?

"Though war is a costly thing and we have lost too much than we can handle for our independence, to retain our independence, we must join whatever they need to us to do. Together, as a member of the Imperial Bloc."

People clapped at the end of his message, some cheered, some did it out of the mob mentality until everyone was eventually clapping with varying degrees of audibility and length of time. As he finished, everyone went to their own business with one thing in mind:

In the first time in many years, the country wasn't alone with each other.