The City of Eyaso,
Eyaso Province,
The National Government in Eyaso,
November 21st, 2020,
12:56 PM
Even in the cool shelter of the provisional government buildings in the city of Eyaso, the long-time warlord Chikap Anchikar sat, sweating. The old general had become a warlord following the unjust usurpation by the illegitimate Shakushain Akihi, whose pride had caused the collapse of the regime that Chikap had once worked so hard to maintain. Chikap had never envisioned himself to be in the position that he was in, and as he sat in his office he couldn't help but reminisce about the "good" days, when he was a key official in Akihi's uncle's regime, helping to root out drug lords and quash corrupt civilian officials.
Chikap had been one of Shakushain Kuuchinklo's closest confidants, and had, truthfully, tried to rescue the aging dictator from his nephew's toxic influence, but to no avail. For the past ten years, due to his failure, Chikap had to not only fight Akihi's attempts to seize the nation, but also play a delicate balancing act between his own ambitions, the loyalty of his officers, and the preservation of the civilian populace's support. Now, Chikap's "rival government" felt like it was at a crossroads.
For a lesser man, this balancing act would have been impossible. But Chikap was not just a military man - he was a strategic thinker, and for him, he viewed the entire thing as a game. A game, of course, that could mean death if he lost. Staring at the increasingly-lukewarm alcohol that sat in a small glass on his desk, he tried to remember when he poured it, but he couldn't. Looking at the clock, he noticed that his break was almost over.
Chikap had so few chances to reflect these days. His underlings needed more and more guidance, and the socialists he kept under his thumb needed more and more management. A single question crossed his mind: was it all worth it?
He found himself wondering this more and more as the days went by. Grasping the alcohol in hand, he quickly downed it just as the alarm that he had set on his dusty clock rang. Lunch was over, and Chikap stood up. Yes, he thought. Yes, it was.
Opening up the double doors that led from his office to the reception area, an adjutant waited on him. Handing the grand marshal a set of documents, he quickly bowed. "The general staff is set to meet, sir. They're waiting on your call." Chikap grumbled at the reminder. He had nearly forgotten, over his break, what he had to get done this afternoon. No doubt the staff would demand more and more concessions for their individual units, and no doubt they would complain when Chikap said that it couldn't be done.
He was starting to run out of concessions to offer the more rebellious of his subordinates, and even as they were given more and more by Chikap's administration, their discipline slackened by the day. The last unannounced inspection he had done outside the capital he found that the troops were more thugs than professional soldiers.
If Chikap Anchikar was a stupid man, he'd wonder what his subordinates did with all the funds and resources he doled out. But he wasn't a stupid man, and he was well aware that his officers spent much of it on lavish, luxurious lifestyles or unsavoury unmentionables. But there was no one else to lead his legions, and even if there was, the web-weaving that would be required to replace them without causing an outright civil war would be next to impossible.
He made his way to one of the several makeshift conference rooms in the governmental building. There, he met Major General Itakshir Nupuri, his second-in-command and longtime political ally. He shook the man's hand, and the pair exchanged a knowing, if wordless, nod. Sitting down opposite one another, they began the conference call with Chikap's officers throughout his territory.
The hour and a half passed quickly for Chikap, whose diplomatic tact was bolstered by Itakshir's choicey words. The pair had done this before, clearly. In fact, they'd been doing this, on and off, every week for the past half-decade. Ever since the Quilau Ceasefire Accords were signed, Chikap felt a need to keep his fingers to his military's pulse. The primary topic of the call was the announcement made by Shakushain Akihi that morning regarding an end to the Peace Accords and a preparation for renewed conflict. Chikap, after some wrangling, got all of his subordinates to commit to a remobilisation of their forces in preparation for a showdown with the usurper.
But this call had gone significantly smoother than most, recently - a certain, very loud, very demanding voice was not present for the call. As everything wrapped up, and the last receiver went click, Chikap glanced wearily towards Itakshir.
"Notice anything different, old friend?" he asked his protege. Itakshir nodded, before responding. "No Kinnalabuk Oki. Is this not a good thing?"
Chikap chuckled knowingly. "No, it's not. That bastard ducked the call. He knows I'm not going to give him anything else, and not being there's an affront to my authority. It's a worrying trend, Itakshir," he concluded, "that these young idiots try to circumvent my word. He's lucky he's so good at what he does. I want you to spend some time figuring out how many people Kinnalabuk has listening to his opinion."
Itakshir nodded. This was a fairly standard procedure for Chikap's natural number two. "It'll be done, sir, I'll make some calls."
As afternoon passed into evening, Chikap, one by one, eliminated the tasks of his ever-expansive to-do list, until he reached the one that he wished didn't have to be done - something even worse than a chat with his general staff - a dinner with the obnoxious Christ-lover, Turushno Kebede.
To Chikap, Kebede was an enigma. A half-Jyugokuan from the interior, a socialist, an anarchist, a Christian. All things that were alien to Chikap's belief system. He was outwardly selfless, cunning, and worst of all, ambitious.
Chikap had originally courted him in the hopes that he and his All-Socialist Union Party would be able to counterbalance the demands and threat of the less-loyal elements of his general staff, and for a time, it had worked. The house of cards he had built wedged socialist and militarist interests against one another, with only one man who could navigate the archipelago of interests - Chikap Anchikar.
But as the years went on, Chikap's promises proved to be empty. He had promised socialist reform, a civilian government, and populist platforms, and delivered on none of it. After months of no contact, Turushno asked to sit down with the marshal, and Chikap had agreed. It was time to rekindle their alliance, especially with the announcement the blasted traitor had made.
Chikap had selected a location that he believed would make Turushno the least comfortable - a five-star restaurant. One of the few that remain open on Chikap's dime, what passed for five-stars in Jyugoku was likely much less elsewhere, but the luxury was not lost on Chikap as he sat down.
The anarchist was late, which was his M.O. Chikap sat at a table in the empty restaurant, soldiers guarding all entrances, eating a steak. As Kebede entered, Chikap stood and waved him over. His guest had a full face and a hearty smile, and while Chikap knew it was fake, it could've fooled anyone else. The two shook hands before sitting down. Kebede waved away the waiter as he tried to pour the man wine. "None for me, thanks," he stated matter-of-factly. "Steak?" Chikap asked, gesturing to his plate.
"No, no. I'll stick with the simple stuff." Kebede responded. Shrugging, Chikap gestured another waiter over, who left a basket of bread. As the pair ate, they made casual conversation. To an outside observer, it may even have seemed as if the two were old friends, until Chikap brought up the development. "Have you heard of the speech the traitor made today?"
Kebede nodded, chewing. As he swallowed, he spoke. "Of course I did, we all did. The man broadcast it everywhere he could. He wants us to know he's coming." Chikap nodded, and continued. "So then can I expect that our old agreement still stands?"
Kebede was silent. He looked down at his plate, immaculate, not a single crumb wasted. "Perhaps, general, perhaps." Chikap winced when Kebede called him 'general'. He was a field marshal, and Kebede knew it. "But I must say, over these past years, I've felt that you've been a big talker. Big talkers can be good people, so long as their walk measures up to their talk. But I haven't seen enough from you."
There was silence, before Kebede continued, "Now, listen, I'm your biggest advocate back at the camps," he lied. But a lot of people are getting upset about your inaction. And I'm not going to stick my neck out for you if you have no intention of delivering what you promised. The time for talk's over, general."
Chikap's eyes narrowed. Here comes the ask, he thought. Kebede met him eye-to-eye. "I'll admit the stuff we asked for back in 2016 was a lot. But at least form a civilian cabinet. Put me at its head, let me fill it up. I'll deal with the internal policy, and you deal with your military. Hell, you'll have ASUP's full support then."
Chikap nodded, and thought for a bit. Standing up, he gave Turushno a slight bow. "No promises, but I will think about it. We'll be in touch. Have a nice evening." And with that, Chikap stood and walked out of the restaurant, his soldiers following him.
Kotojinso,
Capital Province,
Jyugoku Peace Preservation League,
November 21st, 2020
11:22 AM
"... we have stood by, too long, and allowed the terrorists and splitters who have plunged our nation into disarray, to form so-called 'national governments', opposing our rightful claim as the successors to the Kuuchinklo Government. As of today, I am formally announcing the Grand National Reclamation, the effort of our rightful administration to re-secure the entire country. We will not, and cannot, abide by the Quilau Peace Accords any longer. As we watch separatists and warlords recover their fighting ability and steal aid meant for the people they claim to represent, we have been preparing. Our armies shall march, and the nation will be brought to peace once again."
Shakushain Akihi watched and re-watched the speech that he had delivered mere hours before. The speech had been televised internationally, with many foreign journalists invited. Akihi enjoyed watching the minor gestures and small intonations that he made. It was bold - and he knew that his national-level rivals would begin immediately preparing for the conflict. But it was a gamble that he hoped would pay off - for years, he had been posturing as the legitimate leader of Jyugoku, and rightfully so - his uncle had appointed him his successor three whole years before he passed away.
Other domestic elements, unfortunately, didn't necessarily want to see the young, talented officer in charge. But Akihi had spent the years of peace not just rebuilding his forces, but courting the international scene. While Chikap Anchikar staved off rebellion, Rokut Shinda played pretend with his treasonous so-called "National Assembly", and the Keiva Autonomous Province exploited the lands they ruled for all they were worth, Akihi had shaken hands, made concessions, promises, and commitments. He had held conferences, made phone calls, and called in just about every foreign favour he was owed in order to nurture the international community's grassroots support for his administration.
It hadn't been easy. Despite Akihi being the rightful successor to Kuuchinklo, many on the international scene had preferred - somehow - the pretenses of democracy held by the hypocritical Keivan administration or the charade that the traitor Rokut had put on.
It was technically true to call Akihi a "warlord", but only through circumstance. Akihi was the rightful leader of Jyugoku, and he knew that, in time, the international community would accept that. His most recent campaign focused on painting Akihi as the necessary authoritarian that would allow for the reunification and peaceful stabilisation of his country.
Following his speech, he had a number of his adjutants write up drafts of an appeal for foreign military and financial aid in his quest to reunify the nation. He had offered that, in return for this aid and diplomatic recognition, open discussions could be had for what could be given in return. And, he had dozens of copies of this appeal printed. As he signed each one by hand, he noted where they were heading: Achtotlan, Cartagena, Gyunghwa, and Anglia, in Valeya. Zusea, Hyspania in Orda. Rhodanthian, Tshaka, and the Yaoso Republic in Osova. And, most importantly, Yamatai and Chisei in Escar. Effectively, any non-socialist power in the world would be receiving an appeal for aid and recognition.
While any foreign support would be appreciative, Akihi strongly hoped that both Yamatai and Chisei would choose to both recognise and aid the JPPL in its quest for reunification. Chisei had long been a mediator in Jyugoku, even before the 2011 collapse, and while they had overtly preferred Rokut's treasonous breakaway, Akihi had nurtured some remaining connections to Chisei.
Handing each envelope to an adjutant that he trusted with his life, Akihi knew that, no matter what came next, the international response to his appeals would fundamentally shape the way in which he went about his "grand reclamation". As the last of the letters left, he sat back down at his desk, and eyed the black, old-fashioned telephone that sat on his desk. A single name crossed his mind - a last resort. Kamui Atuy.
Miroko,
Miroko Province,
Republic of Jyugoku-in-Miroko
1:03 PM
Rokut Shinda gave an incredibly rare smile as the flash went off, capturing a photo of him shaking hands with a Chiseian businessman. The stern, no-nonsense general had long been known for his severe disposition, and his birthday celebration had been no exception.
The 58-year-old military dictator had specifically asked that no celebration be held for his birthday, but his wife worked in conjunction with a number of other military figures to circumvent Rokut's wishes. Deep down, Rokut was happy that she had done so. In fact, the entire celebration had been quite grand. He had been woken up by his son early in the morning and driven to an inspection of his best-trained divisions, then, a few hours later, overlooked a military parade in the capital, had a quiet lunch with his family, and then was whisked off to a formal celebration in the large event room on the bottom floor of his command center. Here, all sorts of important dignitaries from Chiseian expats to military officers celebrated his birthday.
Even the news of the speech that his rival had given earlier that morning hadn't dampened Rokut's mood - he refused to be bothered by the development on the one day a year he felt like he could be on vacation.
After giving one of his signature, brief speeches to the gathered crowd, the introverted Rokut invited a pair of his close confidants away from the main celebration to talk memories in his office. As the trio swung open the door to his small, austere office, Rokut, champagne in hand, noticed a neat pile of pinkish-red papers sitting neatly in the center of his desk. The general's heart sank. "Gentlemen, I'd ask you to wait outside for a few moments." he said plainly, setting his glass on the desk and sitting down.
The red sheets' source was unmistakable - Rokut's source inside the National Assembly had fed him something - something incredibly important. He flipped through the pages, skimming the copies of communications - texts, e-mails, and notes, from the past few days, and a distinct sense of horror began brewing in his stomach. The National Assembly was to convene tomorrow - without any notification to the general - and would vote with a narrow victory - to remove Rokut Shinda as the head of government.
Rokut was in an incredibly difficult situation. On one hand, he supported the democratic process. On the other, being removed as the general coordinator of the republic in Miroko would mean disaster, and likely defeat. He, and the National Assembly, would have wasted a decade of effort, money, and lives. His mind wandered to the package of cigarettes he kept in his bottom drawer - emergencies only, he'd told himself months ago. What better time than now?
As he lit a cigarette up, he picked up the telephone on his desk and dialled his informant. An unfamiliar voice on the other end answered in Libimilasi. Rokut struggled through the conversation. "I... may I speak to... who am I talking with?" he managed to say. There was silence on the other end, then a brief conversation in a second tongue between two voices on the receiver that Rokut did not recognise, before a third, familiar voice answered in decent Kannaguru. "Is this the general?"
Rokut felt much more at home speaking his mother tongue. "Yes, it is. Mr. Mirtus, I presume?" It was a rhetorical question. "Yes sir, yes sir." he answered. Gabra Mirtus was a member of the National Assembly - and the one who had placed the red papers on Rokut's desk. "I have received your gift, thank you." he said cryptically, slightly embarrassed. He wasn't sure why he was trying to be cryptic. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, before Mirtus spoke again. "Y-you're welcome, general."
"Is it true?" Rokut asked, nearly cutting his spy off. "Is the Assembly meeting tomorrow, to screw us?"
A second, nervous silence all but confirmed the general's suspicions. "Yes, sir." Mirtus repeated. "Tomorrow, at noon, they will meet to remove you from your position. The whole thing was secret, very secret, they're worried you'd catch wind."
"Any reason why?"
"They believe, sir, that you're a hindrance to our cause on the international scene, sir. They think that you hurt our image abroad."
Rokut snorted. Who had won over Chisei? Who had earned them recognition, investment, trade deals?
"It's a narrow-minded move. Do me a favour, Mr. Mirtus. Be at the vote tomorrow." Rokut hung up before he could hear a response. The man's cheeks flared an uncharacteristic red. He took a long drag from his cigarette, thinking about how to handle the situation.
It was unthinkable to let the vote proceed. To remove him from power would leave the movement open to exploitation by Shakushain's fascists, or worse - the bandits led by his old compatriot Chikap. But if he had the Assembly tried for treason, he'd have no claim to democratic due process.
In a rare display of rashness, he made up his mind, choosing a distinctly forceful option. But not the worst one by far. And one that would likely limit casualties due to implication of force alone. He opted not to risk everything he built up, however.
Taking another, long drag, he opened up another drawer. In it was an old-fashioned, bright red telephone. It didn't have a dialler, just a single button to press once the receiver was lifted. Picking up the receiver, he pressed the button. It rang for what seemed like minutes, but finally a plain, monotone voice picked up. Speaking Kannaguru with a distinctly Escaric dialect, the voice gave a flat greeting to the general. He introduced himself over the phone, before explaining his situation.
"Certain domestic political elements have become untenable... unstable." he said, calmly. "Everything I have worked towards is at risk. Tomorrow, I will be taking an action that will likely make international headlines. If it goes well, it will not result in any bloodshed, and I plan on things being back to normal in a week's time, as if it never happened. I'm letting you know this, so you can pass this up to your superiors. Not tomorrow, not in an hour, now. I hope that they can understand both the necessity of this action and... its impermanence." Rokut concluded, choosing his words extremely carefully.
A simple, tinny response came from the other end. "I will let them know", and then the line went dead.
