Marching Forward RP- IC

[Breyburg]

Marching Forward RP - IC

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Blank map, as per the beginning of the rp.

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A world comes into view. It's from a different place in space and time, it is our job to conjure it into further existence. As it comes into view, this world has entered an Equivalent Earth Time (EET) of 1560 CE.

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Discord

[Ovstylap]

Al-Artakah, 1560

Sultan Mussadiq Hakeem Al-Malik

Sultan Mussadiq ibn Rahul ibn Hakeem Al-Malik breathed in deeply the crisp morning air as it came in from the sea. Underfoot, wet sand compressed between his toes. Saltwater dripped from his beard onto his muscled chest, and he combed his fingers through his hair. An attendant came to him and handed him a cloth to wipe his face and hair. Looking eastwards the stretch of beach, where the sand approached the colour of pure white, he watched as a wave of the lightest blue receded from the sand, relinquishing its hold of the land.

Further out to sea triangular sails from galleys and other vessels from the Southlands. Other ships, with rectangular and square sails often mark either foreign vessels come to trade, or newer builds using shipbuilding techniques from overseas. The Sultan smiled as he gradually turned around, taking in his surroundings.

There, towards the south, the beach climbed into dunes, with tufts of long grass rising from them, gradually turning into undulating terrain, drier in some places, greener in others. Up to his left, hills rose steeply into a rocky outcrop, upon which sits the fortress of Zataq, which looks out from the edge of the Buraydah Peninsular. On the other side lies the great port city of Al-Artakah, the Ka-Rahib name for the old Lyrenacian colony of Antindera.

Here is the largest of the Ka-Rahib permanent settlements, and it is here that the Sultan's official government centres. Although the city remains a centre of commerce, it is not the most prominent of the trading cities, but luxury goods are often traded here. Silks, spices, skilled slaves, gold, dyes, pearls, and incense. The Sultan smiled as he thought of the swelling coffers of the realm. The realm was prospering undoubtedly, and perhaps, under the Al-Maliks, would a lasting dynasty be established.
His grandfather, the great Husam Reza ibn Hasan al-Malik had been raised as a slave warrior, and had come to be a most successful officer. He had orchestrated a great coup and put the old dynasty of the Satti, themselves who had overthrown the Shahin but a generation before, to the sword. The Al-Maliks had swept aside all opposition, a combination of honoured mercy when agreements were made, and brutal uncompromising bloodshed to those who resisted them.

He frowned for a moment, thinking of his own children however. His first son, Sharif, was not at all likely to be elected, nor in all fairness would he want to be. He was very intelligent, but not necessarily in a social sense, and did not have much nuance. He made his voice known, though he was not deliberately arrogant, but to say he ruffled feathers was an understatement. He was also not the kind of man to lead a warrior elite. His second son, Omar, was a more likely candidate, though was in competition with the fourth son, Almanzor. Though Omar was 23, and Almanzor 18, each had a growing sense of competition with one another, as Almanzor's charm meant that he was beginning to curry increasing favour with the court, whilst Omar's faith curried favour with the clergy. Then there was Talal.

The thought of his third son caused a deeper frown to flash across the Sultan's face, a slight indicator of the rush of anger he suddenly felt. Himself, he had thought that Talal, undoubtedly the most militarily capable of his lads, could succeed him. But the man's anger, and his contempt for his enemies meant that he lacked what was necessary to rule in these lands- the wisdom to discern when mercy should and should not be granted. After the man had double-crossed a rebel garrison, and ordered them put to the sword, he had fought a duel with an officer who refused the order, and despite winning, was faced with mutiny as the others refused to carry out the order. The Sultan had had to exile his own son, unable to bring himself to kill him. In exile, his son had travelled for some time, but had now returned, and raided with a hundred men many of the lesser Murd fiefdoms, or those with a semblance of independence. In time perhaps, Talal could be brought back into the fold, but this could not be done too soon, less it lead to a brotherly feud, nor indeed lead to questions of his own bias in his application of the codes of honour upon which the Ka-Rahib so relied.

Before long, it would be time to ride back to the Palace. For this year many omens and dreams had come. Something was stirring, something was occurring that was greater than the sum of the previous decade. The coming years would define Sultan Mussadiq ibn Rahul ibn Hakeem Al-Malik's rule, and would make, or break, his dynasty.

So it was. 1560 had begun.

[The Manticoran Empire]

The Republican Army of the year 1560 is perhaps the most forward thinking of its age. An army without recourse to magic, it instead looks to the immense power of gunpowder for its security. For that, the army was organized largely around large regiments of infantry, armed with pike, greatsword, and handgun.


Recruitment, training, and even equipment was done at the regimental level, though to standards set out by the Government. The regimental colonels would first send captains, alongside drummers and other officers, to local cities and towns to begin seeking recruits. Young men would travel sometimes several days to appear before the captain, seeking an opportunity for fame and fortune, glory and adventure.
Regulations required no less than three weeks and no more than six weeks for recruitment during the winter, generally done after the harvest in early December.

Prospective soldiers would meet the captains, generally in the capital of their local county. There, they would consider the contract of service, generally for a period of five to ten years. If accepted, they would be given a date for the muster. On that date, all the men who had agreed to join the regiment would march under an archway made of halberds, sign their contract in view of the captain and the local magistrate, and then march directly to the paymaster to receive their first month’s wages. Once all the recruits had undergone this process, they would then march to the regiment’s garrison, where they would receive equipment and training.


At the most basic level, the soldiers were outfitted similarly. An infantry soldier would wear a uniform of a wool tunic, dyed weld under a buff coat, made of leather. Over the buff coat would be worn half-armor, consisting of a steel cuirass and segmented plates to cover the shoulders and hips, generally extending to the elbows and knees or just above. To protect the head, a burgonet helmet would be worn.
Cavalry soldiers were equipped similarly, with a weld tunic and a buff coat. However, their armor would be three-quarters, covering their arms to the wrists and their legs to just below the knees.
The armor was effective, though of relatively low quality. It was almost totally impervious to the more traditional arms, like war bows, crossbows, swords, spears, and even axes. Pikes, handguns, and blunt weapons could kill or maim a soldier through the armor but the greater resistance to other common weapons and the extended range of survival against guns was considered advantageous. Officers could generally afford armor of better quality, often able to shrug off all but the most powerful handguns at anything beyond point-blank range. However, even those armors only protected some of the body and the thickest plate was in the cuirass, with the limbs only moderately armored. And few soldiers wore any protection over their faces, instead opting for improved vision in a world where a bullet could pierce even the most well wrought faceplate.

To weapons, the pikemen carry eighteen foot pikes, made of seasoned ash and tipped with steel points. As a sidearm, a katzbalger was carried. A short sword, with a blade 80-centimeters long, the katzbalger was used when the push of pike became untenable and the opposing squares closed. Arquebusiers and musketeers would also carry those swords, to wield in the event they entered the melee. However, the veterans carrying their two-handed greatswords would carry no sidearm, instead relying solely on their five-foot long blades to break pikes and remove limbs.

Arquebuses were the most common handguns, snaphaunces that fired ¾ ounce lead balls and were deadly to around five-hundred paces. The heavier muskets fired 1.5 ounce shot and were considered lethal at ranges of seven-hundred paces or more. However, due to their weight and smoothbore barrels, effective range was rarely greater than two-hundred fifty paces.


Training would almost exclusively be done in the winter, as the spring through to the fall was the time for campaigning. That being said, no army truly ended their training and soldiers would conduct basic drills even while on the march. If a period of relative peace was achieved and the regiment was not sent on campaign, it would continue its training during the campaign season.

The reliance of the Republic on gunpowder has created an efficient and profitable industry manufacturing coarse powder for loading, fine powder for priming, and even the lead shot. It is so efficient that a regiment is considered under-trained if they fire fewer than thirty live rounds a month in training.


In battle, the pikes would form large squares, made of 400 men. These squares would be arranged 16 men deep and 25 men across. If a charge of horse was to be received, the first rank would set their pikes at an angle, using their right foot to anchor the end of the pike. Meanwhile, the three ranks behind them would set their pikes at the charge, holding them at shoulder height and parallel to the ground. The remaining ranks would then hold their pikes at the port, a slight angle of roughly 45 degrees, avoiding injury to their comrades.
If the charge to be received was foot or the pikes were advancing to meet another square in the push of pike, the first four ranks would all hold their pikes at the charge.
The arquebusiers would be arranged in companies of 250, ten men deep and twenty-five across or five men deep and fifty across. They would fire one rank at a time, with the front rank retiring to reload or, if on the advance, standing fast while the others marched past them. The four companies of arquebuses would then be placed between the pike squares, so that each company of arquebuses was flanked by two of pikes.
The musketeers would be organized in companies of the same size and order as arquebusiers, with both companies placed on the outside wings of the line, so that the pikes were between the companies of muskets.
The greatswords, again in companies of 250 men, twenty-five across and ten deep, would then be placed on the outside of the musketeer companies, so that the line would have a pike company at its center, then alternating arquebusiers and pikes before the line would then end with musketeers and greatswords on the wings.

Arrayed in such a way, each company would be approximately seventy-five feet across and fifty feet deep, with a distance of one-hundred feet established between each company. In such a way, the regiment in battle formation would be roughly 2,325 feet long. When multiple regiments are fielded, at least five hundred feet is the preferred spacing.

Cavalry will then be placed to the wings and artillery the rear, so as to fire over the heads of the infantry or between the regiments and companies.

In all cases, the specific terrain of the field as well as the dispositions of the enemy will dictate the spacings and formations but the above is the ideal type.

There is some discussion of abandoning the greatsword and doubling the size of the musketeer companies, increasing the firepower on the flanks.

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Behind the battlefield, the Army is subservient to the Republic, embodied in the Senate and the Chancellor. The Chancellor is advised by the Council of Ministers, which include the Minister of the Treasury, Minister of Ships, Minister of War, Chief Justice, and the Minister of Secrets. It is the Minister of War who serves as the chief advisor on matters of the Army and, in times of war, can also serve as its commander, though they will generally remain in the capital.

The army was funded based on annual poll taxes, among others. Coastal regions paid an additional shilling each year to maintain the fleet and a further 4 pence per pound per year was assessed for other expenditures. In addition, 1 shilling was taxed on every pound of goods imported and another two shillings for every cask of wine imported. In all, about 1.1 million pounds would be raised through ship money and around 1.6 million pounds from the poll taxes. Finally, tonnage and poundage taxes bring in a further 770,000 pounds, bringing the total revenues to 3,470,000 pounds. However, the 1.1 million pounds for ship money is legally required to be spent, in full, on the Navy. The Army takes up much of the remaining revenue.

Fully paid for, raised, organized, and trained, the decision for war is up to the Senate.

[Observation Post 13]

1560 CE,
The Republic of Evergreen,
Needleport

It was a hot summer afternoon with no clouds in the sky.

The sun turned the whole city into a steamer, draining all living creatures of their vitality.

"Hang in there, we're so close to winning." Greene, a third-year officer in the evergreen military academy, told himself this.

He bit his lips tightly, desperately restraining the instinct to breathe through his mouth.

Breathe! He must keep on breathing!

Greene tried his best to keep air flowing through his diaphragm, keeping a steady rhythm, making the most out of each inhale and exhale.

The steamy air flowed out of his nose and hit the inner shell of his full helm, bouncing back with the stink of sweat.

Most citizens of Needleport have surrendered themselves today and are relaxing at the public port, dipping their toes in the salt water and savoring the cool Mediterranean breeze.

But even in this suffocating heat, Greene and his fellow cadets trained while wearing a cotton gambeson and a hauberk beneath a full suit of training armor.

This suite of training armor belonged to an Evergreenian noble cavalry who died during the Revolutionary War 40 years ago. After being dismounted from his horse, The Rebel blew out his brains with a firearm.

The Evergreen army wants to save on training-related expences, so the cadets only have access to old gear.

Still, the cadets are using armor that belonged to battle-hardened minor nobles who fought and bled on the frontlines. Their death has not been in vain. The Rebel is defeated, and the spirit of the aristocracy lives on within the Republic.

The armor sets may appear plain and unpolished, with only minimal decoration, yet the quality of the armor is solid; it used to mean the difference between life and death for the wearer.

Greene is only wearing the top half of the full-set calvary armor piece; army ordnance took the greaves, the cuisses, and the sabatons for the calvary, who needed leg protection.

The cavalry armor also had a gap in the crook of the right vambrace, originally intended to hold a knight's lance, and must be replaced. The Army Ordnance Department disassembled the left vambraces from other suits to replace the right vambraces because they didn't want to build new ones. Army ordnance registered the pieces as [Near-Mint|Armor Class A|3/8], and issued them to the cadets.

These sets of training armor are riddled with holes and scratches from firearms. The holes are hammered-flat for appearance's sake. AOD calls this "field repair".

Luckily no one is wearing these suits of armor into battle.

What torments Greene at the moment isn't the condition or the weight of his training armor, but the heat. Iron has a high thermal conductivity. Like a sponge, iron will suck out all your body heat in winter, and suck in heat from the environment in summer.

Greene's cotton gambeson clung tightly to his back, sticky with sweat. He felt like shit.

Sweat flowed down from his forehead, gathered in a big droplet below his chin, and disappear beneath his neck. From time to time it would get into his eyes, making them sting.

The helmet prevented him from scratching his sore eyes. He had to endure this itch that is driving him nuts.

Greene supposed he should be thankful to the bureaucrats from army ordnance for not repairing the holes in his armor whenever he trained in the middle of summer.

After all, at least he could breathe a little better.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Tenochtitlan, Central Aztlán

Mezma Huepa, King of Tenochtitlan, stands before the pyre upon which his late father rests. The thirty-seven years old man holds a long-handled torch, a ceremonial tool as long as a spear and adorned with gold and jewels. His shoulders hold the long, elegant, purple robe to be worn as he is crowned King. Before that, however, he must put his father to rest.

"Xipilli Huepa, eighth of his name, former Lord of Tenochtitlan, Tamer of the East, I lay you to rest, to be with the great Tonatiuh. May you come back to us in another form when we need you most."

The speech is well rehearsed. The opening to any royal funeral is the same—the name, formal and informal titles, and so on. Now, the new King is expected to finish with his own parting words.

"You were known as Xipilli the Good by the Baneless commoners. When your generals wanted to end the bread riots that began in your first year of rule with force, you rode out alone to confront the peasants. They hated your uncle, Erennite the Whoremonger. They were ready to burn the city to the ground out of spite. But you calmed them. The money that once went to wine, women, and art was used to import food for the commons. The halls of the Royal Palace were stripped of the paintings and statues put there by a fool more concerned with building a palace he would never leave than the Baneless, who starved in the streets. Those pieces paid for more than a year of food for the city's masses. Your kindness only continued to flow, uniting your people in a shared love for your kind and just hand. Families of and without the Blood both adored you. You ruled your family the same way as you ruled your kingdom, with fairness, concern, and a ready ear. The only injustice you have ever visited upon the world is leaving such a legacy I must now attempt to live up to."

King Mezma took three long strides to the pyre. Then, finally, he bent the torch down, igniting the fuel, engulfing his deceased father in flame.

"Rest, father," the King whispered, a tear running down his face, "But not for too long. This world needs men like you."

Mezma stood, silent, as the flames climbed higher. Sobs could be heard from the huddled thousands. Usually, such a funeral is much more private, with only the noble Baneblooded Houses directly tied to King in attendance. The late King Xipilli, however, was so beloved by his people that Mezma knew the Baneless would tear down the walls of the Palace to see their King off into the Realm of Tonatiuh.

The new King turned, his face hardened, and walked down the short steps to stand before the nobles in attendance—loyal vassals of the Huepa bloodline. Baneblooded lords, generals, and advisers, once under his father's command, are now serving him.

And serve him they shall. Mezma had grand plans that would shake the very foundations of Aztlán. Plans that could be put into motion now that his weak-willed father was dead.

[Observation Post 13]

The Republic of Evergreen,
Needleport

Greene was drenched in sweat inside his full suit of armor, his muscles burning with exhaustion after two previous matches. But he couldn't let his weariness get the best of him, not when victory was so close.

He glanced at the scoreboard through the visor of his helmet: he had 17 points, his opponent only 12.

This was the closest he'd ever come to beating the guy who had defeated him for the past six years. And it might be his last chance.

Greene tightened his grip on his long sword, its unsharpened blade gleaming in the scorching sun.

It was longer than most swords, measuring 1.3 meters, and had a grooveless blade nearly 1 meter long.

Its huge guard, measuring two feet, was essential for the moves he planned to use.

These swords, nicknamed "The Baby Zweihänders" only weigh 1.4 kilograms, yet are powerful enough to sever flesh and crush bones if used correctly. They are the reason why he must wear a full suit of armor in the scorching heat.

Greene repeated to himself, "Stay calm, stay calm, I just need three points." His brain raced, planning his moves, anticipating his opponent's strategy.

"Issac will have to take initiative and attack if he wants to catch up. I will wait for an opportunity..."

Greene stepped into the arena with a determined look on his face. His right foot slid forward a half step, while his body rooted firmly into a stable horse stance. His waist was straight and his right hand gripped the hilt of his sword in front of him, while his left hand gripped the handle behind him. Both hands sank down to his waist, with the tip of his sword pointing upward toward his opponent's throat.

Greene was trained in the techniques derived from the founding father of the republic, the Marshal of the Evergreenian Army, legendary swordmaster Sir Edmund Philips. His sword style was known for its impressive stances.

Greene was using the "plow stance," which combined offense and defense moves. This way, he could keep his dominant hand and leg facing forward.

As he stood there, Greene knew he was exhausted, his body aching and rigid, his embarrassing posture on display for all to see - but he didn't care.

His mind raced with a million thoughts, but in reality, only seconds had passed.

Greene's opponent took on a similar posture and closed in.

Their friends around them cheered, urging them on, risking the ire of the sergeants.

As Greene had predicted, his opponent decided to play more aggressively.

His opponent aimed his sword tip at Greene's head, while simultaneously maneuvering to take Greene's flank.

But Greene was quick to adjust his footwork, preventing his opponent from gaining the upper hand.

The two swordsmen moved in unison, their breathing almost in sync, as they circled each other.

Their sword tips collided, and Greene maintained contact. They were now both within striking distance of each other.

His opponent, exuding confidence, beat his blade with Greene's, trying to intimidate him.

This kind of provocation would not bring any physical advantage in an arena, but it was a pretty effective psychological tactic.

Greene has not yet realized that his opponent's aggressive posturing was working. Meanwhile, his confidence and momentum falter...

Greene was well aware that his opponent is a better swordsman than him, so how come he was the one leading by five points?

Doubt leads to hesitation. Greene decided to remain on the defensive to play it safe.

Seeing Greene closely guarding the centerline, his opponent changed tactics.

He rotated his sword body and aimed at Greene's left side.

Greene pictured the attack in his mind and knew he had to act fast-

His opponent had a powerful sword arm and can easily knock Greene's sword out of position, leaving him vulnerable to an attack. His opponent would then take a step forward and thrust his sword downward, piercing Greene's chest.

The overhead chop was his opponent's signature move - and they both knew it well.

Greene reacted instinctively as his opponent's sword swiftly turned towards his right side. With lightning speed, he shifted his stance and swung his sword to the right, anticipating a head-on collision-

But just as Greene was preparing for the ensuing swordfight, his opponent's sword tip made a sudden circular motion in the air, catching him off guard.

Greene felt a chill run down his spine as he realized he had fallen for a feint.

One wrong move could mean defeat.

Despite not having enough time to think, Greene's muscle memory kicked in.

He tried to change his sword swing from right to left, attempting to regain his posture.

But it was too late - his opponent had already launched an attack from his left.

Instead of going straight for the torso, his opponent bashed his forte against the foible, knocking Greene's sword out of the way.

At the same time, his opponent's left leg exploded with the force of a loaded spring, and his right foot took a big step forward.

And in a swift motion, his opponent brought his sword down in a sweeping arc aimed at Greene's neck.

A brutal overhead chop.

The sword body drew an arc of light, its speed so fast that it made a whistling sound.

The blade smashed squarely into Greene's left clavicle with a deafening, painful "CLANG!"

It made the onlookers wince.

The whistle blew - valid hit!

Greene's opponent remained vigilant, holding his long sword in a horizontal posture to ward off any possible counterattack.

He left no opening for Greene to launch a follow-up strike, which would result in a draw as per the competition rules.

It was unnecessary; the impact was so severe that it felt like a beheading through armor.

Greene was paralyzed by the intense pain that ran through his body, leaving him gasping for breath.

But his armor protected him from serious injury, dispersing the force of the blow throughout his body - that strike had the power to cleave off his shoulder.

The shock prompted a surge of adrenaline and endorphins, which helped Greene recover. He could suddenly breathe again.

He coughed, pointed to the referee to indicate where he had been hit, and the verdict was delivered swiftly: "3 points for Issac", changing the score to [17: 15].

The training room erupted in thunderous applause.

The applause was well-intentioned, as was the tradition in army academies after bearing witness to outstanding fights.

Greene would have joined in the applause if his body wasn't still reeling from the blow.

It was a brilliant, textbook display; a simple and effective feint, followed by a clean and decisive strike, and a flawless defense. The whole set of movements was unbelievably cool.

From start to finish, the assault lasted less than two seconds.

Many spectators were unable to catch the action clearly, seeing only a blur, then a flash.

They only saw the end where Greene took a brutal hit and staggered under the impact.

Besides the pain, Greene was more frustrated with himself.

Marshal Edmund's swordsmanship placed a strong emphasis on taking initiative, using pragmatic attacks, and avoiding unnecessary feints. Edmund believed that a skilled swordsman would never be easily fooled by feints, and need to be aware of his opponent and the environment.

Indiscriminately using feints against a skilled swordsman is like handing your weaknesses to the opponent.

In Greene's eyes, falling for a feint was more humiliating than getting hit while standing still.

"Are you okay? Do you wanna take a break?"

Instead of returning to the waiting area, Greene's opponent watched him with concern.

The opponent's voice was muffled inside his helmet and sounded distant.

Greene gritted his teeth and moved his shoulder tentatively to check that he had not been seriously injured.

He wanted to rest but...

"I'm fine, let's keep going," Greene spat on the ground, clutching his shoulder.

"Let the others fight first, we'll come back later," suggested the opponent, still worried.

Greene repeated, "I'm fine, really! Let's keep going." He walked back to his waiting area, flexing his arms.

The opponent sighed and walked back to their own waiting area.

[Breyburg]

Kungens Palats, Lilleske, Skerland, Skertvalta
1/1/1560 AD EET

A tedious balance has been maintained in the Kingdom of Skertvalta after King Vernik Lundström of Lilleske and Skertvalta gathered the might of the Skersk and Mekvask people to beat back the raiders, warlords and pillagers of Skanet to the north. With Lundström’s wealth and connections, he was able to fund the contract of various ex military leaders and strategists from lands across the continent of Övrigland, namely those from the United Provinces of the Reik (Förenade Provinserna i Reik, FPR) and the Imperial Reich of Königreich-Wüste to train the newly risen Kunglig Armé. Before, various militia groups across Skerland (land of the Skersk) and Mekvaland (land of the Mekvask) were small, weak and largely unorganized, and so Skanent raiders were more easily able to take what they pleased from the agrarian and largely peaceful Mekvask.

Previously the Lilleske Duke Palace, the Kunglig Palats (Skersk for Royal Palace) was a beautiful and ornate structure. The outside is built largely with limestone mined in Southern Skerland. It is surrounded by an intricate assembly of various botanical oddities and beauties, either from around Skertvalta or from foreign lands which had been bought or traded for from traveling merchants. There is a separate establishment in Lilleske dedicated to cataloging, preserving and displaying such botanical specimens.
Within the palace King Vernik Lundsröm resided; a special kind of boredom had descended; anxious and impatient. Decades after his successful campaign to unite Skerland and Mekvaland and his successful offensive pushing the Skanet further north, life had slowed within the last decade. The biggest news around Skertvalta was usually gossip and the petty squabbles of those most famous in the nation. Vernik had begun to grow tired of managing the development of his new nation, his true desire was to eliminate the northern warlords, but the Skersk military was simply too small, too frail; it was a miracle that it had even liberated the land it did from Skanet. If Vernik was to exterminate these heathens he knew he would need to invest heavily into the future of the Kunglig Armé. Skersk production of iron was minimal as there were very few deposits of iron in Skerland or Mekvaland, not enough to be anywhere near profitable or strategic in any sense, and most iron was traded for from nearby nations such as Rusalka or Königreich.

The Skanet being largely unorganized, only held together by a loose and vague agreement of sorts between the major warlords and city states of the northern regions, were extremely unpredictable. One fortress could be guarded by a lackluster force, easily sieged and conquered, and the next could be manned by enough forces to make any sort of siege very difficult. If Skertvalta was to eliminate these barbaric forces, it would need help from other nations. Vernik had long heard tale of Skanet raiders entering Northern Rusalka territory to pillage and even Königreich territory occasionally. Surely the leaders of each respective nation wouldn’t be opposed to an Anti-Skanet League of sorts. One wherein the members were united in a common struggle to maintain their territories sovereignty and the safety of their people. Vernik would deliberate with his court on whether or not he should request the aid and allegiance of his neighbors in waging a war against the Skanet. It was decided that 2 delegations would be sent for Rusalka and Königreich to discuss the realities of such an alliance.