"There'll Always Be An Empire..." [IC|Cornellian War II]

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

There'll Always Be An Empire



Imperial Homefront of the Cornellian War

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This thread may contain mature subject mater, particularly related to war. It is only for members of The Cornellian Empire Region.
OOC Thread Link

This thread is dedicated to the Imperial home front and home interactions for both Vionna-Frankenlisch and the Empire. Places and characters relating to Vionna-Frankenlisch, the Colonies, Gallandia, Espicuta and Balion.

A continuation of the events of Pacifying the Provinces.

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[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

The Call to War: Part One, Balion


O say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose proud castle and fields through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And our own flag did stand, though the bombs burst in air,
Both the flag of the Empire and our homeland stood there;
O say does that holy alliance still stand,
With our comradeship strong, arm in arm, hand in hand?

---

New Grythshead, Balion
Capitol Building

---

Frederick von Klauberg, the King's Governor-General in the United States of Balion, was in a dreadful mess. He rushed through the marble halls of the grand Capitol Building, shoving papers haphazardly into a leather document case, creasing them beyond repair. He was not fat by any stretch of the imagination, in fact he was very much in shape, but the Wolfswoodan was still out of breath and panting from the long journey. He sweltered beneath his wool tunic and breeches which he insisted on wearing as a sign of status. The hobnailed jackboots he donned did not much help either. The tunic was white and decorated magnificently in the Imperial Style, conspicuous at Von Klauberg's throat was the Cross of Weissberg he won in Prodava in his army days. This decadent uniform set the Margrave of Klauberg apart from his Balonic companions in President Jacob Walker's cabinet.

Von Klauberg, sweat gathering on his brow, panted as he pressed the door to the Cabinet Room open and rushed to his empty seat opposite the President. One could always tell which was which as the President's leather-backed chair was marked with the golden image of an eagle, while the Governor-General's was marked with a crown. Every member of the Cabinet was present, including Walker's hulking VP, Freddie McNulty, whose suit appeared to be bursting at the seams. Everybody was chatting idly, perhaps they were waiting for the Governor-General's arrival, perhaps the President was simply taking some time to get started. Either way, it did not matter, as when Von Klauberg took his seat, President Walker cleared his throat and all heads turned towards him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen..." Walker began in that accent Von Klauberg hated, and he also noted that Walker had neglected to start with 'My Lords' as one would back home, the Balonic people seemed to think that they were in some way equal to Vionna-Frankenlischians, especially the richer ones. "We are facing a crisis. One big goddamn crisis, fellas. The King has pissed off the goddamn Edomites and now they're baying for royal blood. I'm sure you've all seen the news but in case you've been hiding under a rock, I'll tell ya' - Edom has bombed Frankenlisch. Boom! The harbour's goddamn blown to pieces and we've gotta help them out. Any questions?"

That was another thing about Walker. His informality was a constant source of annoyance for the traditional Von Klauberg, who sat through this drivel far too often, wishing he were somewhere else.

"Mister President, we will need to mobilise our forces if we wish to help Vionna out," Damien Scaletta, the Secretary of Defence, noted. "We will need to get production going and the National Guard ready."

"What about the Union Army, Damien?" Walker asked, a little confused.

"The Army is small, sir, and best kept at home until we form new regiments." Scaletta tried to explain before Walker cut him off.

"No goddamn it, we gotta help out King James and he's gonna want our boys. We got the finest boys in the Commonwealth and they'll just be wasted here. Those sneaky Edomite fucks'd never invade here." He swore confidently. "We'd oughtta keep a few back, I suppose, but I want you to make me a list of all the crap we can send over there." For the first time since he'd entered, Walker acknowledged the Governor-General's presence. "Hey, Fred, what do you think you boys are gonna want?"

"Anything that Balion can spare, Mister President, particularly we will need your industry to produce ships and planes." Von Klauberg replied, curtly.

"Right. Well, we ain't got much and what we got is a little rusty but Damien'll do what he can to sort out some kind of 'Task Force'," the President used the term as if it was a foreign word he was unsure of, "that can help you out. We gotta help our allies, huh?"

"But of course, President Walker, my thoughts exactly."

"How many times do I need to tell you to call me Jacob? You're sweating bullets, Fred, you sure you're alright?" The President had a habit of pausing important meetings to check up on his colleagues, he was a caring and friendly man, if a little dull.

"Nothing important, Mister President, perhaps we'd ought to continue?" Von Klauberg dodged the question, unwilling to admit that his tunic was ringing sweat out of him like water out of flannel. "I must say, I'm touched by your loyalty to our King. I had expected a fight, President Walker."

"Well, you know me, Fred. I've always liked the guy, and we do good by Vionna, they oughta do good by us." The President grinned, "Besides, you have no idea how long it's been since I had a good brawl..."

"Glad to hear it, Mister President. Now, about these troops..."

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

---

Vionna-Frankenlisch Airspace,
On approach to Westonland Airfield

The journey from Deadora to Vionna-Frankenlisch remained a relatively safe one for the time being. The New Edomites and Shrailleeni had yet to challenge control of the western seaboard from the coalition, so flights were simple to arrange.

Matriarch Orlena T'lok prepared herself for landing carefully. She was flying in a small private jet, naturally, and so had access to the customary accommodations. She had a small number of staff with her as well for handling the more mundane matters that conferences such as this tended to generate, as well as assistance in translation. She spoke Latin well and understood some Cossack but English and German utterly eluded her.

Like all Nadirii women Orlena took a certain amount of pride in her appearance. This was not to entice the male gaze, although daring them to violate the social order was part of it, but rather to demonstrate to other Deadorans that she was physically fit and sexually desirable. Among foreigners, especially men, wearing certain clothing also had the added benefit of keeping them off of their guard. Foreign men were so easy to manipulate, it was almost laughable if it weren't so pathetic. She was currently wearing a red dress that ended at the thigh and was fastened at the shoulders with a circular gold band, with slits down each side that gave a glimpse of her tight musculature and tied together at the waist to prevent lapses in modesty, such as it was. In the front it came up to her neck, betraying nothing. She was pale and raven-haired like many Nadirii, fit from an active lifestyle.

She pondered the upcoming meetings as her plane was cleared to land. This so-called coalition seemed to have little in the way of a unified cause. So far as she could tell Vionna-Frankenlisch had started this war by accident, and Solisia had blindly followed out of what could only be surmised as a sense of bloodlust. The Cossack Khanate was an unknown, they had joined seemingly only out of a sense of duty to their ally and had very little at stake. Only Regensburg and Deadora herself seemed to have any concrete goals, and even then the Regensburgers appeared to have stumbled into the conflict no less than the Vionnans, albeit more assuredly.

So far as Jacqueline Thrall was concerned, this coalition was useful only insofar as it benefited Deadora. The war was not proceeding exactly as planned, and there was worry in the Calla-Gold Palace about the performance of the Air Command and the pacification of Aedora. These other nations had things that would raise the odds in Deadora's favor. The Solisians had proven themselves utterly rash and undisciplined, but their eagerness would make for good fodder for the front so long as it could be safely directed away from Deadoran lands. The more Regensburgers fought and died in the north the better, their success was a welcome distraction for the New Edomite enemy. The Cossack Khanate had some technical prowess, they would likely be the most useful of all if their power could be properly harnessed and controlled. And as for their gracious hosts, the Vionnans were useful in the dull way of cattle, a mass of ships, men, and food to be herded and consumed for Deadoran purposes.

And without a clear vision from Vionna-Frankenlish, Solisia, or the Khanate, it would be up to the Feminist Empire to provide that vision. The Regensburgers were on their own, they could do as they liked, but the south was Deadora's realm. And she intended to led this coalition in a direction that would bring Deadora to glory, and perhaps, by coincidence, led the rest to glory as well.

She strode down the steps of the plane regally, head held high, her attendants trailing behind.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Westonland, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
King Edward III Air Force Base

---

Matriarch Orlena T'lok was met on the runway by a military officer in the long riding boots, busby hat, red trousers and dark blue pelisse with gold lace and black fur of the Earl of Tillimere's Hussars. She was short with flowing black hair and introduced herself as Major Megan Poltov-Mainwaring. She was a military liaison for the King and showed the Matriarch politely to a waiting Oxbridge Defender which had been painted black and bore a pair of flags on the bonnet, one Vionna-Frankenlischian, one Deadoran. It was a short drive from the airbase to Westonland Castle through pristine woodland and it passed in relative silence, with the cavalrywoman occasionally communicating with the security staff at Westonland Castle through her radio.

On arrival at the castle, Orlena T'lok was met by Percival Mercer, the Imperial Minister of Defence who shook her hand stiffly and spoke, his sunken yet somehow expressive eyes boring into hers without even glancing at her choice of dress. "Matriarch, I am Percival Mercer, Minister of Defence," he introduced himself, "I am honoured to welcome you to Westonland Castle. The War Cabinet is presently sorting out some minor concerns, the formation of several new divisions and brigades. The King has just arrived and the conference will be convening shortly, we expect to begin when the Solisians and Cossacks arrive." Mercer was tall and seemed to possess a muscular build, though it was invisible beneath the scarlet court uniform of the Lord High Marshal, now a courtesy title of the Defence Minister. "Major Poltov-Mainwaring will take you through now unless you have any queries or concerns to address before we begin?"

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Westonland, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Westonland Castle

---

As the delegates for the Westonland Conference began to arrive, the War Cabinet convened in Westonland Castle's banqueting hall. Count Zimmerman seemed a little ragged but had been faring well considering his situation. The whole cabinet, in fact, despite their weariness, looked resplendent in their court dress and even the businesslike James Altman had been convinced to shed his usual two-piece suit for a tailcoat and white tie. Each minister wore the golden Sash of State and each one was accompanied with a ministerial brooch: a laurel wreath for the Prime Minister, a silver shilling for the Chancellor, crossed swords for the Defence Minister (though he was absent), a gear for the Minister of Industry which bore similarity to those worn by the Guild of Mechanists, two shaking hands for the Foreign Minister and, finally, the Imperial State Crown for the Minister of Imperial Affairs.

"We have the base combat units to form several new divisions and brigades but we lack logistics units and engineers. In the absence of Minister Mercer, I would like to ask you permission to activate these support battalions from the reserves." Lord Lancaster requested. Zimmerman gave his asent with a nod and a smile. "Thank you, Prime Minister."

There came a knocking at the great doors to the hall and footmen could be heard to call, "Sharp, sharp! The King, the King!" With that the doors swung open far faster than one would expect of the heavy oak. The War Cabinet came to it's feet and King James strode in, dressed in the cavalier style which his son loved so much.

"Lords, Gentlemen, how fare you all?" James asked, kindly, as he approached the Royal Table where they were convened.

"Well, Your Imperial Majesty." Was the universal reply.

"Excellent. How goes our mortal struggle?" He settled down into a random seat, ignoring the Earl's Throne at the centre of the table, a huge wooden cathedral chair of polished spruce.

"It is too early to tell, sire, though I believe we will gain the upper hand." Arthur Astron replied.

"Good, good." The King's voice trailed off. "Lords, Gentlemen, I have several directives I would like your approval of."

This took the War Cabinet by surprise, they had assumed that the King had provoked conflict and would then take a backseat and watch the carnage. They sat and listened.

"One, I would like by-elections to be held in all independent seats. We must present a united front and these outliers will disrupt the mood of parliament. In time I would also like the Nationalist parties in Parliament purged from the House."

"Two, I would like authorisation for the mobilisation of new regiments. Minister Mercer will put out a call for 200,000 volunteers and we will make this number up to 300,000 using reserves if need be."

"Three, I must know the mood of Parliament on this war. If we are to have a disloyal House of Commons, we must know now so that appropriate measures can be taken. I suggest the formation of a National Government to provide cross-party cooperation and that I be granted emergency powers."

The assembled War Cabinet was silent for a time, taking the King's requests in. Arthur Astron opened his mouth as if to speak but then thought better of it. "Fine," Dochlov Zimmerman finally replied, "We will need your authorisation to hold the elections and Minister Mercer will need to be informed of these plans but I agree to them."

"Good. I think perhaps we'd ought to show the delegates in, mustn't dither, eh." The King nodded, smiling.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Oxbridge, Kingdom of Vionna
Juniper Palace

---

The unforeseen interruption of war had postponed the Duchess of Erin's much-anticipated Ball until the end of hostilities. This did not put an end to the revelry of the aristocracy, however, and Lord Archibald Dorian-Mersey, the Earl of Oxbridge, had seen fit to throw a little soiree with attendees from all over the Kingdom of Vionna. It was held in Juniper Palace, the old residence of the Kings of Oxbridge who had ruled much of northern Vionna until the War of the Vionnan Coalition and the subsequent annexation of Oxbridge into the then young United Kingdom of Vionna-Frankenlisch. Juniper Palace's gorgeously furnished interior, which bore all the regal trappings of its royal past, was further bedecked with banners and flags to show patriotic solidarity. A thirty-two piece orchestra played waltzes and the occasional Breemian polka, which delighted the noblemen from that county. Round tables bordered an open dancefloor where couples moved elegantly in their flowing evening dresses, tailcoats and military uniforms.

Around a larger table sat a variety of noblemen, all in some form of military dress, steadily drinking through port and whiskey. Lord Dorian-Mersey, the gracious host of this impromptu ball, sat among them with a sad smile, a thin, grey moustache and an almost bare, wrinkled head. He wore the royal blue dress uniform of an Imperial Air Service. "I've been given Support Command, promoted Air Vice Marshal. I think they plan to give me some kind of government role, Secretary of State for Air, perhaps." He explained, to the nodding, smiling delight of his peers.

"Good show, Oxbridge," A butch man in the well-laced scarlet of a Dragoon Guards officer replied, "They've given me the Heavy Brigade, reactivated the King's Own Cavalry Division."

"The Heavy Brigade?" Another, this one in a dark-blue hussar's pelisse, replied, "They've given me the Light Brigade! We shall ride together, Colin, old boy!"

The pair shook hands with kind laughter. "Damn fine news, Johnny, damn fine indeed. What about you, Richmond, what've they given you?"

Lord Henry Richmond, who wore the dark-blue dress uniform of the Imperial Army's support units replied with a handsome smirk, "Superintendent, Royal Engineers. Got the news this morning."

Laughter and praise broke out from all angles and the drinks flowed amber. Men chatted, smoked and revealed to one another their new postings. The orchestra played tunes by Archibald Gromit, Wallace Crackerman, Josef Petrovich and Viktor von Deffelstaber, which serenaded the guests and wetted every cheek. The high ballroom ceiling was invisible behind a cloud of cigar smoke and every attendee had their fill of joy and indulgence.

"You've got command, haven't you, Theodore?" The Viscount Hewecombe asked, fiddling with a half-filled pipe.

Theodore Digby-Conwyn, a fellow Viscount, nodded, "I've been given the Parachute Brigade." He explained, "I've jumped before but ain't it a little bit rum that I've been given 'em. I'm a tank chap, by the Saints, these airborne chaps are rather glib fellows if you ask me. City folk, most of 'em, not hardy peasants like the infantry. I'd trade four battalions of city boys for one of shire yeomen."

"I'll drink to that," Another rural nobleman, Lord Fletcher of Breaccbourne, replied, "I've been appointed Superintendent, Imperial Supply Corps. My Master-at-Arms, Sir Roland Hamilton, has even been given something, First Yeomanry Brigade, I think it was."

As several men wondered what they might be getting, a runner entered bearing a scroll of parchment in a leather map case. He wore the leather cap and goggles of an Imperial Army motorcycle messenger and was instantly disliked by the attendees as the band went silent to allow him to speak. "I beg pardon, My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, I bring word from Horse Guards. The following appointments have been made: Sir John Butcher, First Grenadier Brigade. Sir Alexander Morton-Jones, Highland Brigade. His Grace, the Duke of Larkinge, Second Infantry Division. Her Ladyship, the Countess of Kingsbridge, Second Grenadier Brigade. Sir Owyn Orton, Kundaki Defence Brigade. His Lordship, the Earl of Hardskar, Royal Mountaineers. That is all for now. Thank you." The runner, clearly unaccustomed to noble etiquette, bowed deeply but was not ridiculed for it, most had already forgotten his presence and went back to toasting the good fortune of their appointments or dancing with their partners as the band struck up a new waltz.

The night dragged on and it was not until near one in the morning that the arrayed noblemen and women who would be taking up their commands in the proceeding days began to acknowledge the full implications of military command. Around a cluster of tables sat the commission-bearing nobles and they drank further and many chose now to make amends for past wrongs and slights.

"Dearest Richmond," Lord Gabriel Saint-Marie of Tillimere, who had been given command of the King's Own Division, took his old rival by the hand. "We've said some damn silly things to one another haven't we?"

"I do believe we have, Tillimere," Richmond replied, nodding, "And we've done some nasty things to each other over the years too. I hope that we find ourselves no longer at odds."

"Oh but how could we, dear friend..." Saint-Marie replied, teary-eyed, and embraced his oldest adversary. "I think we've been rather stupid, with the greatest of respect."

Richmond smiled and shook the cavalryman's hand with spirit. Around the ballroom, this kind of reconciliation was widespread as men realised they might not see one another again. In the face of potential death in battle, all the petty slights and insults seemed pointless and all around men agreed to let bygones be bygones. Another runner arrived at 0130 from the Royal Armoured Corps, informing Lord Alexander Harroway and Margrave Jobst Rakowski that they were to command armoured brigades.

"My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please!" The orchestra's conductor called out once an upbeat polka had finished. "Before we retire for the evening, we will be playing several pieces that will hopefully reinforce those bonds of comradeship that will see us through this war. Starting with Comrades." He bowed his head and turned back to conduct the song. Around the ballroom, teary-eyed noblemen sang together with the gusto and confidence of aristocracy and alcohol.

"We from childhood play'd together
My dear comrade Jack and I
We would fight each other's battles
To each other's aid we'd fly
And in boyish scrapes and troubles
You would find us ev'ry where
Where one went the other followed
Naught could part us for we were

"Comrades, comrades ever since we were boys
Sharing each other's sorrows, sharing each other's joys
Comrades when manhood was dawning
Faithful whate'er might betide
When danger threatened my darling old comrade
Was there by my side

The Marquess of Frostfield and the Viscount Hewecombe, commanding brigades of the same division embraced tightly, Hewcombe's cigar dropping from his mouth. Lord Richmond downed his glass and started singing the next verse with double the volume.

"When just budding into manhood
I yearn'd for a Soldier's life
Night and day I dream'd of glory
Longing for the battle's strife
I said, "Jack, I'll be a Soldier
'Neath the Red the White and Gold
Goodbye Jack!" said he, "no, never!
If you go, then I'll go too

The verse was followed by cheering and the band had to pause for a moment. Many chanted "I'll go too!" until the orchestra continued. Sir Robert Perregrin was dragged from the room when he punched a footman who informed him that there was no more champagne. Lady Rebecca Hawthorne dabbed the poor servant's bloody nose with a lace handkerchief and ended up snogging the man until she fell asleep. Lord Hawthorne was faring little better as he snored in the muscled arms of a serving girl.

"I enlisted, Jack came with me
And ups and downs we shared
For a time our lives were peaceful
But at length war was declared
Our dear flag had been insulted
We were ordered to the front
And the Reg'ment we belong'd to
Had to bear the battle's brunt

The next verse was sung in a loud whisper. The assembled nobility crouched to meet the tone. Lord Mendelhaven, who walked with a peg-leg, scowled at his laughing fellows when he tried to copy their posture.

"In the night the savage foeman
Crept around us as we lay
To our arms we leap'd and faced them
Back to back we stood at bay
As I fought, a savage Edomite
Aimed his spear like lightning's dart
But my comrade sprang to save me
And receiv'd it in his heart

We were comrades, comrades ever since we were boys
Sharing each other's sorrows, sharing each other's joys
Comrades when manhood was dawning
Faithful whate'er might betide
When danger threatened my darling old comrade
Was there by my side"

This verse was sung tearfully and loudly. Only the grandeur of their surroundings and the titles on their names separated these aristocrats from drunk peasants in a public house. They chanted the song with gusto, going through the chorus three times before allowing the orchestra to continue with The Old Brigade. The party did not disperse until 3am with a rousing round of Here's a Health unto His Majesty and many, still in their uniforms, returned not home but to their new units. Mister Barrowman, the butler at Juniper Palace, sighed as he saw his master, Lord Dorian-Mersey, being carried to his bedchamber by a bloody-nosed footman and began to direct the cleaning-up operation. In a few hours, it would be as if nothing had happened.

[Cossack Khanate]

Vionna-Frankenlsichian Airspace

The small long-range VIP transport jet of the Cossack Royal Air Force cruised through the air, fast approaching arrival at King Edward III AFB near Westonland Castle. The jet was along; no escorts were necessary as the coalition de facto controlled the airspace between the Khanate and Frankenlisch.

As the plane landed, Commissioner of War, General Indrajit Gadhavi stepped off, followed by a eager assistant, who was openly carrying a standard-issue W7 handgun. Gadhavi himself was carrying Gadhavi himself was carrying a black-finish R18 automatic revolver, and his kathi, a short sword which was a symbol of his status as a high official and noble.

Gadhavi was currently Raja of Ambari, a small district in rural Vaishalle. His rank was equivalent to that of a duke or lord in other countries.
He often delegated local tasks to his nephew, who was a commander in the provincial National Militia.

Gadhavi had a clear-cut view of his goals. The Khanate had a superior land force compared to that of the Deodarans or Frankenlischians, and a capable navy and air force. However, Gadhavi did not want Cossack troops to be used for the other nations’ schemes. The Khanate needed to secure bases and land, as well as local allies, in the Edomite sphere of influence. Currently, the Cossack government was well-off, as well as most of its subjects, but to pay for much-needed military advancements and probable future wars, the Khanate would need to flex more muscle in more areas of the world.

He was also wary of Deodara growing too much in size and power, but supportive of the Solisan claims in Aedora. Deodara was a historic enemy to the God-loving traditional peoples of the Cossack peninsula, and Gadhavi was personally grounded in the belief that Deodara could never coexist in complete peace with the Khanate. It was the reason that he had centered most of the nation’s military assets on the western coast with Deodara and the northern border with Lazodiria and the Othmanis, who were a headache on their own.

At the same time he knew that the Khanate needed Deodara to cooperate to, at least in the beginning, get their forces to the front. Gadhavi would have to swallow his hatred and put up a diplomatic face. And he was determined to do so.

As the sunlight flashed into his eyes, Gadhavi looked around for a Frankenlischian reception...

[Solisian Union]

The War Call

Agustín Muñoz Grandes alone was sent by Her Majesty to meet the rest of the Coalition at Westonland Castle. As his plane quickly hurried through the skies over the ocean which separated Solisia from Vionna-Frankenlisch, his own government had informed the Vionnans that he was already on his way. And he was close. As he reviewed the instructions from Her Majesty, he thought about the affairs currently going on in the presence of his superior.

The cabinet of the Empress was divided. The Deputy Minister was desperate to maintain stability on continental Solisia; the Prime Minister remained calm but was disturbed by how their colleagues were taking this. At least the Justice Minister only worried about the increase of crime on continental Solisia and the other islands of the Empire. However, the greatest opposition to the Empress came from the Minister of Agriculture. The poor official was warning everyone about the possibility of a famine, or worse, of a drought. They went on about the dangers of leaving the civilian population of the entire Empire to the mercy of rations, and they even went so far as to obey the system of rations set down by Her Majesty's government. The President too was worried and often brought up many fears to the Empress. Even though she was on the side of Her Majesty, she agreed with the Agriculture Minister. The Minister of Health was also surprised at the use of chemical weapons and forms of poison gas upon the Aedorans, but they kept their silence and maintained their outward support for Her Majesty, causing it to manifest by voting for the proposal of continuing the war despite the wave of events taking place all over the world. And the rest of her cabinet was in support of her.

If only they saw how she was taking it on her own, when they were not with her at the table. The overflowing reports. The photographs. The audio recordings. The radio. The constant visits of army liaisons. The secret meetings.

The man sighed as he waited for his plane to land upon the airfield. He folded up the papers and closed his eyes, trying to relax.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Westonland, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
King Edward III Air Force Base

---

Upon arrival, the Cossack and Solisian delegates would be met by a pristinely-uniformed officer of the 32nd Grenadier Guards with a waxed moustache and a serious, aloof expression. He nodded to each delegate in turn and identified them correctly as "Minister Grandes" and "Commissioner Gadhavi". He introduced himself as Colonel the Earl of Hackett and showed the foreigners to their cars, bearing an Imperial flag and the flag of their respective delegate on the bonnet. Lord Hackett himself clambered into a jeep which led the convoy away from the airbase.

The journey was swift and beautiful, heading along a two-lane road through exquisite woodland, broken only by a series of stone railway bridges, which carried the Frankenlisch Kingdom Mainline. These woodlands had been royal hunting grounds for almost as long as King's Grove had and thus were kept mostly intact. Though the County of Westonland also boasted King Edward III AFB and Fort Haakon along with the City of Westonland, making it much less pristine than the mostly uninterrupted King's Grove.

Defence Minister Mercer, who was having a tough time keeping Matriarch Orlena T'lok entertained while they waited, sighed quietly with relief at the arrival of the Cossack and Solisian delegates. He shook their hands and greeted them in the same stiff yet amiable manner he treated everyone. "Very good, I think we ought to go through." He resolved and led the way, nodding to a pair of footmen who, with some effort, pushed open the great doors of heavy, polished oak. Beyond the threshold was the great banqueting hall which had seen eight hundred years of feasting and dancing. Visible through the open doors was the high table where sat the War Cabinet. In the Earl of Westonland's great seat was His Imperial Majesty, the King, looking as regal as ever as he puffed a long pipe. His eyes seemed tired yet his cavalier outfit was vibrant with light colours and lace.

Mercer led the delegates in and the War Cabinet went silent. The King came to his feet and they did the same. "Ah," he cheerily greeted, "Such an honour to host you here, my friends. A great honour indeed. Please do take your seats," he gestured to three empty chairs opposite his own at the lord's table. "You must be thirsty, what'll you have to drink?"

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

---

Matriarch T'lok was just as relieved as the Defense Minister when the Cossack and Solisian delegates arrived. She herself regarded the men with a quiet politeness, bowing and offering words of welcome to them. Not for the first time it occurred to her how strange it was to be surrounded by men who thought that power rightfully belonged to their own sex. They bellowed and brayed like donkeys instead of listening and obeying as was proper. Such were their ways, however, and she accepted that.

The king looked much like he did on television in the photographs. He seemed more cheerful in person, although she detected a hint of fatigue about him around the eyes. The sign of a diligent and hard-working monarch or of a man haunted by his own decision-making? If she were a gambling woman, she might have guessed the latter. But a warrior never left anything to chance if she could help it, luck dominated far too much of what they did in the first place.

She bowed to the king in the way that Deadorans greeted foreign heads of state, and smiled gracefully.

"Your Majesty," she purred, "you are too kind. The Matriarch Empress sends her highest regards. Since my travel has been long I would do well for a drink. Some red wine, a dry vintage, would do nicely."

She settled into her seat like a cat lighting upon a fencepost, arcing her figure a bit and resting her fingers on the rests of the chair. She wondered if the king had ever seen a Deadoran in person before, even the ambassador. She intended to make an impression.

[Cossack Khanate]

Commissioner Gadhavi, King Edward III AFB

Gadhavi curtly nodded in reply to the Earl of Hackett and nodded to the Solisan delegate before climbing into the car allotted for him. During the journey he observed the beautiful Frankenlischian countryside and appreciated the courtesy of his hosts -- the various insurgents and militia groups he had at a time been forced to negotiate with had not provided such comfort and respect.

Gadhavi had mentally prepared himself for sitting with one of his nation’s worst enemies’ representative. The Deodarans are vile and vicious people, not to be trusted, he reminded himself, as he stepped through the heavy oak doors.

As he faced the King of Vionna-Frankenlisch and his War Cabinet, Gadhavi bowed slightly in the direction of the former, with a low “Your Majesty”, and made amiable eye contact with some of the members of the latter. He made sure not to look too much in the direction of the disgusting woman taking a seat at the same table as him. He was furthermore taken aback by the prompt request of the Matriarch of War; in the Khanate, although it was customary to ask if the guest wanted anything to drink, it was seldom an invitation. For practical purposes however, Gadhavi spoke up:

“Very kind of you, Your Majesty. I am honored to be here. I’ll take some tea, if it is not a burden”, he said, without knowing how his literal translation of Cossack to English would be received by the hosts.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Westonland, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Westonland Castle

---

The King shifted uncomfortably in his chair with each incorrect address, though he did not mention the mistakes. His first impressions of his allies were not exactly hopeful. The Cossack Commissioner of War was evidently uncomfortable sitting alongside a Deadoran and King James could not blame him, most nations of Cornellia had made an enemy at Deadora at some point or another and the Cossacks, in particular, had a deep-set feud with the Feminist Empire. Vionna-Frankenlisch herself had never really enjoyed much contact with Deadora, there was an embassy out of the way in Gestoria but besides that, they had no friendship nor animosity.

This Deadoran, however, had quite the effect upon an audience which had never met one of that race before. T'lok had arrived before all of the other delegates, exhausted the Minister of Defence's capacity for small talk and now perched atop her chair with all the grace and cunning of a feline. She was attractive, that was the first thing James noted, but it was a dangerous attractiveness and he made a mental note to keep his eyes where they belonged. He had never seen a Deadoran before, not even a picture, and he considered T'lok carefully. She was dressed like a rich commoner and a slut, wearing a dress ending at her thigh with slits exposing glimpses of her athletic frame. Her drink order was unexpected too, James assumed that the culture so infamous for barbarity and sexual deviance would consume blood or sexual fluids of some kind.

"Of course," the King replied and turned his head to the castle Chamberlain, who was standing to one side of the great chamber about halfway down, some way away from the lord's table. "See to it, Martin. Oh, and bring me my cigar box. And find Emeline, bring her to me." The Chamberlain bowed his head obediently and hurried from the chamber to arrange things.

"I'm sure you're all aware why we have convened here at Westonland." King James began to explain, "Thus far, we have been a disjointed coalition, unbound by treaty, with very few recognisable goals and no real joint strategy. We have much to discuss, much to decide." The King was about to continue when the doors were pushed open and four footmen entered, bearing refreshments. The Solisian delegate, Grandes, received his request without issue. The others were a little more tricky. Evidently aware of the irregularities of Vionna-Frankenlischian tea-drinking (the old milk-and-two-sugars tradition not having taken off in most other places) the staff had elected to serve Commissioner Gadhavi a porcelain cup of black tea spiced with karha, cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla, an old favourite of Queen Caroline and noted as a distinctly 'foreign' style (though apparently, nobody had thought to check where exactly this 'Masala chai' concept originated from). Matriarch T'lok received a tall glass of Vallée de la Reine, an exquisite blend of multiple Gallandic grapes bottled in 1980. The bottle was kept nearby for her to call upon as she desired. The King grinned lightly as a bottle of Hardskar brandy found itself in front of him and a cigar box joined it.

"We were not sure which cigars Your Imperial Majesty requested. As this summit is likely to take some time, Chamberlain Maltravers decided the Prodavans would be best." The footman informed James, bowing his head.

"An excellent judgement," the King affirmed opening the box and producing a reddish-brown cigar about sixteen millimetres thick and seven inches long. He cut the head of the cigar with a guillotine cutter and smiled appreciatively as the Duke of Gynmorgan reached over with a gold-plated gas lighter. "Right, where were we?" He said, after a few ceremonious puffs. He was interrupted again by the door, this time it was Martin, the Chamberlain, coaxing an animal into the chamber. It approached the lord's table more happily when it noticed the King sitting there and strode around the table to settle at his feet, purring gently. The creature appeared to be a normal Bengal Cat, with one exception. It was the size of a jaguar. The King stroked his pet, evidently named Emeline by the earlier request, affectionately before returning to his words before his guests had a chance to get annoyed by the interruption. "Now that we're all here," the King joked, "let us commence with the first order of business. I think this ought to be the officiation of our alliance and a joint list of demands. Once our goals have been put to words, I'm sure we will find planning for the future much easier."

"Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," Larry Tristram spoke up, "I would be most interested in hearing the stances of our allies before we put forward our own goals."

"Very good, Foreign Minister." The King nodded. "I open the floor, dear friends." He gestured openly with his arms and smiled, cheerfully.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

---

T'lok smiled as the King purposefully avoided looking at her body. Foreign men were so predictable. She also relished the uncomfortableness of the Cossack Commissioner, although she did not attempt to provoke him any further. They were supposed to be allies now after all, even if she found the Cossacks to be barbarians of the highest order.

The listened to the king's speech, and accepted her wine graciously. She sipped with with her head slightly raised, in a way that drew the eye to where her neck met her collar bone. It was an excellent vintage in fact, and she appreciated it. Even more, she appreciated the tamed wild cat that appeared at the king's side. Now there was an animal that could be appreciated, though not as large or powerful as a Deadoran smilodon. But the fact that it was there, and clearly intended to impress and intimidate, gave her hope for this strange alliance. Perhaps they were not all so different after all.

"Your Imperial Majesty," she said, crossing her legs and smiling strangely at him. "You speak honestly and well. If I might suggest to yourself and to our the other honorable representatives, Deadora believes that there is one common thread that binds us together. The issue of sovereignty."

She looked languidly around at the other delegates, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

"This war began because the so-called Holy Empire of New Edom attempted to remove His Imperial Majesty's jurisdiction over New Columbia. When caught, the New Edomites then attacked our honored hosts without provocation. Now New Columbia has been conquered. Similarly, New Edom has attempted to carve up Deadora, denying our sovereignty over our own provinces. The Shrailleeni have attempted to do so as well."

"The Cossack Khanate and Solisia have both recognized this fact, and come to Vionna-Frankenlisch's aid. None of our nations are safe until our sovereign rights are respected by the other powers of the region. How long would it be until the New Edomites began to break up Solisia's hold over its islands, or until the Shrailleeni attempt to impose their will upon the Khanate? Those two powers, and indeed the Noviterans and Gran Chaco as well, envision a region where everyone bows to a single, central authority of their own making."

"Our declaration should be thus: that we will fight until all of our sovereignties are respected. That we, and we alone, will not be cowed by New Edomite or Shrailleeni imperialism. That we are free and independent nations who have the sacred right to oversee our own affairs without foreign interference."

[Cossack Khanate]

Gadhavi found relief in drinking the familiar spiced tea, and for a moment, he felt at ease. But as soon as the Deodaran began to speak again, he tensed and brought himself back to an alert state. Her perch and self-righteousness annoyed him at the very least; at the most it made the Cossack want to reach for his gun.

As she spoke however, he began to see that perhaps Deodara would make a useful ally in this war. His aides and officers back home had brought to him three possible operations, two of which, for the moment, he put out of his mind. It would not be advantageous to execute them...yet.

But strategic goals aside, her words made sense, even if it was pretense. After all, most of the Khanate’s northern neighbors were within the Edomite sphere of influence, and would the Edomites hesitate to flex their muscle on the Khanate if they so wished?
After the uncomfortable eye-meeting with the Deodaran delegate, Gadhavi elected to speak next.

“Your Imperial Majesty, I absolutely agree with your judgement. Furthermore, I think that the honorable delegate from Deodara --” Gadhavi swallowed and reminded himself to follow standard decorum -- “speaks true. It may not be long before the Edomites and their allies threaten our nation’s safeties and well-being like they have of our honorable hosts. The main purpose for the Khanate to enter into this war was to defend our noble ally, the United Kingdom of Vionna-Frankenlisch. Secondarily, all of our nations, for too long, have been treated as second-rate countries with little say in regional affairs.”

“The motives of New Edom have been proved clear by their overthrowal of the rightful government of New Columbia, and their subsequent attack on the Frankenischian homeland. In such, we should make our own motives clear. We must defend our honor until our enemies respect it. This is no mindless crusade, this is a righteous war. Our goals should be to prove our stiff resistance to Edomite aggression at all fronts necessary until they have to back down and respect our sovereignty.”

Gadhavi gave a deep nod and leaned back in his chair, picking his porcelain cup again. “I rest my case, Your Majesty”

[Solisian Union]

The Solisian was not bothered by the Deadoran. He did not mind the discomfort of the Cossack, but he wished that he could assure him that he is safe. And he also did not really give a damn about the monarch, the king; a cigar lover he may be, he was only a king, an ally to the Empire of Solisia under Her Majesty. The greatest issue that the Solisian had with King James was that he seemed to care for his cigars and the other things that was brought into the company of all of the people present at this place more than he cared for the war that he and his kingdom caused by provoking a greater kingdom.

A kingdom that Solisia was a short-timed ally of.

The price then would have to be paid now.

"In bello parvis momentis magni casus intercedunt..." was what he whispered before he rose from his place and spoke his message for all to hear and to remember and to consider carefully: "The Solisian Empire stands and will stand with her allies. To the Cossacks, the Deadorans, and the crown and the people of the Kingdom of Frankenlisch: La unión hace la fuerza. Union is strength. And in union, Solisia, stands for the defense of her allies."

Then he paused, thinking over the next words which he must part away with for the rest of the delegates to think over too.

He then said them: "Edom is a great threat. So is the rest of the world. Out of isolation, we have emerged. But out of isolation, we saw our ally being attacked over a mild insult. Out of isolation, we saw that we had to fight. Yes, indeed, it was noble for us to join the war for our friends; but, Her Majesty has issued me this instruction, and I intend to carry out this instruction now. Her Majesty approaches you all through me with this question: Because we are all in union now, what is the next move of our union?"

And then he bowed his head and whispered to himself: "Carpe diem, amigo de mi emperatriz."

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Westonland, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Westonland Castle

---

Each delegate having said their piece, King James removed his cigar from his lips and opened his mouth to speak. "I cou-" he stopped abruptly to cough violently, hacking phlegm into a plain linen handkerchief. "Saints above..." He muttered, wiping his mouth. "I do beg your pardons, I was going to say that I could not agree more, we have a joint duty to defend our sovereignty. The Edomites evidently have scant regard for the territory of others, with their subversive actions in New Columbia and flagrant claims on the Bay of Gottheim, which has since been reclaimed by the gallant Regensburgers. Shrailleen has consistently supported socialist upstarts in southern Aedora, insulting the sovereignty of Deadora. Who knows how soon it will be until Edom and her allies turn their eyes towards the Khanate and Solisia, the last independent nations in the south of Acheron, if we do not prevail."

The War Cabinet nodded and mumbled their approval of the King's words. He continued, after a brief pause to cough, albeit less violently than before, "We must address the subject of our cooperation. How are we to support one another? Minister Mercer, we are expanding our forces are we not?"

"We are, sire. I have given orders that support units are to be raised from the reserves and recruiting stations for new troops are being set up as we speak. The mustering battalions have received authorisation to dispatch recruiting parties too." Mercer reported, sounding slightly more monotone than usual, his grey whiskers bristling with each grave syllable. "I am to address the House tomorrow with a speech on our priorities, during said speech I will send out a call for the first one hundred thousand volunteers."

"Thank you, Minister." The King nodded and gave his famously dour councillor a warm grin. "In addition to this, we have formed new divisions and brigades from standing battalions and we hope to make a further deployment of…"

"Thirty thousand men, sire," Mercer reminded the King.

"Thirty thousand soldiers to Deadora. Our material commitments to Deadora are also underway, I believe."

The Chancellor, Arthur Astron, took this as his cue to speak. "They have at that, I have just spoken with the Ministry of Agriculture and they have agreed, in return for the promise of a National Agricultural Research Program once the war is concluded, to place the material taxes they receive from freeholding farmers. Not to mention a similar deal with the Guild of Crofters. I believe that these contributions will be enough to sustain our offer of food relief to the Feminist Empire." Astron paused to light a cigarette, which he despised but made him look more common for the voters. "Any requests for non-military aid should be made to me, so that I may pass them on to whatever department may be appropriate."

"Thank you, Arthur." King James smiled, evidently more familiar with the Leader of the Imperial Party than he was with his Conservative ministers. "Well then, my friends, I wonder if I might press you again for your opinions. I believe that we must understand how we are best placed to support one another before a joint strategy can be determined. It would be imprudent to act without playing to each other's strengths."

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

---

The Matriarch of State raised an eyebrow at King James's apparent small coughing fit. She had heard any types of cough in her lifetime, both innocuous and inflicted by others, and this one did not sound to her like a normal irritation of the throat. In the end though she dismissed it as nothing, the man certainly seemed to be fine as he continued to speak.

"The Feminist Empire is extremely grateful for the men and material of your empire, Your Imperial Majesty," she said when he had finished.

"But I would point out that, with the exception of our brave Solisian Sisters, Deadora has so far bore the brunt of all allied aggression in this war. In my opinion our strategy must be twofold. First, we must ensure that we have total security over the seas of south-eastern Acheron. The enemy must not be allowed free reign to target our shipping or enter our combined waters. This is especially true for the waters of the Empire of Solisia, which mark the passage from southern Acheron to the eastern ocean."

"Second, the allies have gathered their strength on land against Deadora. It is there that they must be broken. I do not say this because it is my own country on the front lines, but because of necessity. Unless I am gravely mistaken, this coalition does not have the transportation capability to open a new front elsewhere."

"We must meet them in Kehrahn, and break them there. If possible, we should consider pushing into New Edom from the north as well. For this my own empire has laid the foundations. But we must build upon this, and force our enemies into submission. If enough of them die, they will lose their will to fight. But we must strike quickly as well, as we cannot win a long and drawn-out conflict. That is the situation."

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Westonland, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Westonland Castle

---

The Duke of Fairfax cleared his throat as the King thrust his handkerchief to his mouth again. Over the hacking, Fairfax nodded and replied, "The Imperial Navy is currently undertaking two substantial deployments. The Grand Fleet, as you well know, is embedded with forces of the Deadoran and Cossack navies. The Imperial Reserve Fleet and Submarine Command are presently working together in an operation against Gloria Regis, the plan being to destroy the enemy surface units at anchor." The First Lord of the Admiralty explained things in a disinterested, aristocratic drawl yet somehow, through his countenance and stocky posture, he dispelled all sense of ignorance. He had the face of a philosopher, the pokey, thin nose, the bushy grey beard and the round, wire-framed glasses balanced at the end of his nose. "Now this operation may be halted at any time to support other actions, I personally have little faith in the Reserve Fleet's abilities to see it through against both the Edomites and the Shrailleeni - especially under that jolly jump-up, Longstaff, no tactics, no family and no principles."

"Fairfax, old fellow, perhaps you'd allow me?" the Chief of the Imperial Air Service, Lord Haliwell of Ravenstern, spoke up. He was older than Fairfax by at least a decade, but his hair still clung on desperately to its youthful chestnut colour. He sported a very fetching pilot moustache and was smoking a pipe haphazardly.

"Of course." Lord Fairfax conceded before he got any further off track. He snapped his fingers to a footman and quietly ordered a claret.

Haliwell smiled kindly at Matriarch T'lok, he deigned not to spare her fine body a glance, did not care for some foreign harlot, though he respected her position and apparent knowledge. "I believe what my Lord of Fairfax is trying to say is that, at sea, we are already fully committed. I have already allowed three squadrons of the Imperial Air Service to operate under Deadoran supervision and I'm certain that more can be made available once things are steadier. On the land, however, only one division is in Deadora and I earnestly believe that this is unacceptable."

"Quite," echoed Fairfax, cooling his nerves with a drink and swiftly waving for another. "However, I do believe we have come to an accord on this matter. Lancaster?"

The aged Duke of Glynmorgan had sat silent for the whole meeting. He was gaunt, serious and authoritative. An uneducated outsider may have mistaken the uniformed aristocrat for the King, rather than the cheerful, yet ill-looking figure in his finery of velvet and lace, who lounged in the lord's chair, stroking the great feline at his feet. "We have formed new brigades and divisions and we hope to put them into action as soon as possible." Lord Lancaster explained simply and deeply, rustling through some papers on the table and selecting one of interest. "The present forces comprising the Imperial Expeditionary Force are to be reorganised into the First Infantry Division. Her Majesty, Princess Adelaide, is to retain command of the IEF and Major General the Marquess of Rothess is to assume command of the division. We would like to move other units to Deadora to join the Imperial Expeditionary Force, here is a list." He passed the document down the table for T'lok to scrutinise.

Second (Infantry) Division - 13,400 Men
Officer Commanding: Major General Lord Henry Forrest, Duke of Larkinge

First Brigade - 5,480 Men
Officer Commanding: Brigadier General Ted Radcliffe
Brigade Staff - 100 Men
1st Btn, Fredericksland Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
1st Btn, Troubridge Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
2nd Btn, Troubridge Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
Royal Eglantine Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
1st Btn, Royal Fredericksland Rifles - Rifle Infantry - 1,000 Men
10th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery - 380 Men

Second Brigade - 5,480 Men
Officer Commanding: Brigadier General Terrance Morrison
Brigade Staff - 100 Men
1st Btn, King's Vladimirska Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
2nd Btn, King's Vladimirska Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
1st Btn, Royal Castermaine Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
2nd Btn, Royal Castermaine Fusiliers - Line Infantry - 1,000 Men
Earl of Kundaki's Own Rifles - Rifle Infantry - 1,000 Men
9th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery - 380 Men

Third (Support) Brigade - 2,440 Men
Officer Commanding: Brigadier General Sir Edric Montgomery
Brigade Staff - 100 Men
2nd Field Regiment, Royal Engineers - Engineers - 600 Men
2nd Field Regiment, Imperial Supply Corps - Logistics - 600 Men
City of Briceport Yeomanry - 600 Men
No.2 Detachment, Imperial Army Medical Corps - 200 Men
No.2 Detachment, Army Commissary and Clerical Department - 60 Men
No.2 Detachment, Army Provost Corps - 80 Men
2nd Heavy AA Regiment, Royal Artillery - 200 Men

---

Third (Grenadier) Division - 7,500 Men
Officer Commanding: Major General Moira Forrest

First Grenadier Brigade - 3,750 Men
Officer Commanding: Brigadier General Sir John Butcher

Royal Breem Grenadiers - Heavy Infantry - 1000 Men
Earl of Darlington's Own Grenadiers - Heavy Infantry - 1000 Men
Royal Donaldia Grenadiers - Heavy Infantry - 1000 Men
3rd Regiment, Royal Horse Artillery - 380 Men

1st/3 Detachment, Imperial Army Medical Corps - 100 Men
1st/3 Detachment, Army Commissary and Clerical Department - 30 Men
1st/3 Detachment, Army Provost Corps - 40 Men
2nd Heavy AA Regiment, Royal Artillery - 200 Men

Second Grenadier Brigade - 3,750 Men
Officer Commanding: Brigadier General Lady Margaery Willard, Countess of Kingsbridge

1st Btn, King's Teutonberg Grenadiers - Heavy Infantry - 1000 Men
2nd Btn, King's Teutonberg Grenadiers - Heavy Infantry - 1000 Men
Imperial Waldkopf Grenadiers - Heavy Infantry - 1000 Men
2nd Regiment, Royal Horse Artillery - 380 Men

2nd/3 Detachment, Imperial Army Medical Corps - 100 Men
2nd/3 Detachment, Army Commissary and Clerical Department - 30 Men
2nd/3 Detachment, Army Provost Corps - 40 Men
1st Heavy AA Regiment, Royal Artillery - 200 Men

---

First Yeomanry Brigade - 2,400 Men
Officer Commanding: Brigadier Sir Roland Hamilton

Redwater River Yeomanry - Yeomanry - 600 Men
South Gestoria Yeomanry - Yeomanry - 600 Men
King's Grythshead Yeomanry - Yeomanry - 600 Men
Teutonberg Fortress Yeomanry - Yeomanry - 600 Men

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

The Call to War: Part Two, Frankenlisch

Vionna-Frankenlisch was at war, that much was certain. At war with Edom, Shrailleen, Gran Chaco and Noviterra. At the head, at least informally, of a Coalition of backwaters, she faced against the greatest powers that Cornellia could array. But few in Vionna-Frankenlisch, be they peasant, minor noble or even Parliamentary politician, were actually aware of the situation facing them. Strict controls on the media and great secrecy on the part of the First War Cabinet for the first several weeks meant that many were not even sure who they were fighting. Finally, after weeks of government preparation, the shroud was raised.

The Mercer Paper of four hundred and twelve pages of military preparations was released by the government. It announced the creation of a dozen new brigade and division sized units, comprised of pre-existing battalions of foot, horse and tanks. It authorised the raising of a hundred new battalions for the war. Industrial priorities were also set though, naturally, these were not elaborated on greatly in the public release of the grand document.

---

Duchy of Teutonberg, Kingdom of Vionna
Village of Rolson

---

“Gather round my lucky lads, gather round,” Sergeant Holler growled, his sword in his hand and his cap under his arm, “Gather round and ‘ear me for I comes from His Majesty the King! Rare is the opportunity which I ‘ave come to offer my lambs today. Rare is the reward which Vionna offers ‘er children for doing their duty and taking up the only real profession a man can ‘ave.” He leaned forward to the small crowd he had amassed around him with a scarred grin, “To be a soldier, my lads, is to lift oneself above the common man and to take your place in ‘istory as an ‘ero.”

The market square in Rolson was the same as any village in Vionna. Around the central cluster of buildings, rolling fields of grains, vegetables and grazing animals dominated the countryside broken only by clumps of woodland and knots of houses and farm buildings. The square itself was cobbled, the weathered stones shining with smoothness after centuries of footfall and hoofbeats. This was, no doubt, not the first time that the war drums had come to the village for men to join the great struggle, it would surely not be the last. Sergeant Holler was at least fifty, short, scarred and a little fat but he wore his uniform with evident pride and his tones, though harsh, were genuinely inspiring to the villagers.

“To each man who enlists ‘imself today, I am to grant a bounty on be’alf of ‘is Most Imperial Majesty, the King. Every man who brings ‘imself into the service of our King and to the Colonel of this regiment, the gallant Lord ‘Uxley, is to receive the princely sum of twenty-five Lucans, twelve Shillings and sixpence.” He produced a shiny silver coin from a trouser pocket and held it up with a sneering grin, “Not to mention,” he added deviously, “This little trinket. That which bears the face of ‘is Majesty on either side. The King’s Shilling, that which you will take, and be mine for ten years."

"So fall in, my lads be'ind the drum and I shall feed my flock and make 'em strong. And ye shall march as soldiers and cry out for the Saints, King James and old Vionna forever!" The scarred little sergeant lifted his sword in the air and the young drummer to his right rattled out an execution drum roll and the crowd let up a cheer once he had finished. Men filtered jauntily into the country inn before which Sergeant Holler had made his appeal for recruits. Holler grinned knowingly.

---

Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Air Ministry

---

In anticipation of a widening of the, presently miniscule, War Cabinet, several new government departments had been opened up. Perhaps chief among them was the Air Ministry, a long defunct ministry which had been reactivated from the pre-existing Department of Aviation, a section of the Ministry of Defence. The Earl of Oxbridge, accepting a registered peerage from the outgoing Earl of Monton in the Imperial Party, had been given the position of Minister. The Department of Aviation was evicted from the Ministry of Defence building ignominiously and with little warning, the space they left taken up by two new departments, the grandly-named Future Warfare Department and the Mustering Department. Aviation had been granted use of the old, disused State Security Offices on Apothecary Avenue.

Lord Archibald Dorian-Mersey could still smell the strong fragrance of carpet cleaner in his dark office. The last person to occupy it, George Berry, had evidently liked his solitude. The walls still bore markings where sound-proofing material had been removed. The heavy door, reinforced with steel, had been taken out and replaced with a nicer one of beech wood. Dorian-Mersey would have to see about replacing the ugly aluminium shutters with some nice new curtains or wooden blinds.

“Are you listening, sir?” Robert Leaden, Dorian-Mersey’s new Principal Private Secretary, interrupted his mental interior decorating.

“Oh, yes, sorry. Carry on, Robert.” the Minister replied, zoning back in.

“So we’re putting Roger Siddeley at the head of the Department of Production.” Leaden explained, “The government has promised a hundred planes in ten months, all for the Imperial Air Service. The Navy Air Arm is getting nothing new unless they take heavy casualties.” He pushed a document over Dorian-Mersey’s desk, which was still adorned with socialist symbols from the 1970s. “We have to decide which aircraft we’d like to increase production on and which new squadrons we’d like to form.”

“What about our reserves?” Dorian-Mersey asked, already aware that reserve aircraft were rarely in good condition.

Awkwardly, Leaden admitted, “We have none, sir. Reserve aircraft were split, following the Marienberg Uprising, into new squadrons. Those left over were stripped for parts or sold off.”

Although it didn’t come as a huge surprise, Dorian-Mersey was still hit by the revelation. “Very well…” He muttered with a sigh. “Contract Blackthrope to produce twenty Privateers and twenty Musicians. We’ll have Faulconer produce eight new Achilles transports. That’s forty eight…”

“Privateers, sir? They’re naval aircraft.” Leaden, confused, inquired. “Why not Picaroons.”

“I’d like to put them into service under Strike Command in Attack Squadrons. They’re quicker to produce, faster, more maneuverable. Perhaps I’m rocking the boat but I have always found them superior from both a tactical and strategic point of view.”

“Picaroons hold more armaments.” Leaden replied, quietly.

“They do. The idiots at Air Service Staff have always considered the IAS superior to the INAA for some reason, perhaps numbers. The Navy Air Arm have always had the more modern aircraft. And they operate helicopters, which the IAS has never done. The Army has more rotorcraft than the Air Service does.” Leaden remained silent, this was evidently a point of passion for the Earl of Oxbridge. “So we will also have Westonland produce forty Feline helicopters and twenty Does. Have Faulconer also produce twenty Sea Poachers for ground use.”

“Very good, sir. Anything else?” Leaden came to his feet and asked.

“Yes, I’d like to have a meeting with the management at Faulconer and Blackthrope. Fuller, too, actually. Bring them here, tell them I wish to shake hands with an old friend. The IAS bomber programme...”

---

Faulconer Aircraft Company, Headquarters

---

Sir Alex Anthony Hail stubbed out the remnants of his cigarette in a metal ashtray. His meeting with the new Minister of Air had been remarkably interesting. The haste with which this new branch of the government had formed meant that the building it inhabited was in a laughably poor state but improving quickly, for between going into Lord Dorian-Mersey’s office and leaving it, the whole building had become notably cleaner. Hail looked at his clock, a chrome-plated, 24-hour analogue piece designed in the Balonic Streamline Moderne style which was so popular amongst Frankenlischian businesspeople. With three minutes before his next appointment, a meeting with several of his division managers, he decided to sit back and reflect on his success.

Faulconer had been formed by his father and his godfather, Sir Warden Hail and the Baronet Faulconer respectively. Sir Warden had been a man of great mathematical intellect, worthy of a career in the then-fledgeling computing industry, he had managed the actual business aspect of the partnership. Henry James Faulconer, however, had been the true face of the company and it had, ultimately, been named after him, though, in truth, it was a 50/50 partnership. Faulconer had been a masterful designer of aircraft, both military and civilian. In 1936, following a few minor contracts for private civilians and the Navy Air Arm, the first Faulconer factory opened in Gestoria, muscling into the market in that region which had been dominated for twenty years by the uncreatively named Gestoria Aircraft Company. By 1938, the Imperial Air Service had adopted the Faulconer Tornado as its primary interceptor alongside the Seamaster Firebrand. By the end of the following decade, Seamaster had been brought up by Sir Warden Hail, alongside Gestoria and the wildly successful Faulconer Archer and Sea Champion bi-wings were exported to every small country and militant group that could afford them.

Warden Hail and Henry Faulconer’s partnership went from strength to strength from 1950 to 1990, holding almost every Imperial Air Service contract that was available. Even when Faulconer died in 1988, he did not do so quietly, placing his plans for the excellent Sea Poacher in the hands of a design team imbued with decades of experience and support from one of the great aeronautical minds of the era. Faulconer died childless and left twenty percent of his company to his young niece, Maria, and thirty to his lifelong friend and business partner. Sir Warden himself died in 1995, bringing the reign of the Faulconer partners to an end after sixty-five years. The company had been left to Sir Warden’s son, who was much like his father and in 1997, Alex Hail had married Maria Faulconer, who was her uncle’s natural successor, filled with her relative’s passion for flight.

It was not a particularly rare story in Vionna-Frankenlischian business, other companies had enjoyed far more success than Faulconer but many had similar beginnings, a humble partnership, a garage workshop, transformed respectively into a great corporation and an impressive network of factories and all the appropriate infrastructure of business. In honesty, Faulconer had gone a little downhill in recent years. Military aircraft production had nearly halted and multiple factories had been mothballed with all their production equipment left abandoned in perfect order, ready for the call again. That call had come but the company faced other problems. Blackthrope, their old rival with the same humble beginnings, had won the contract for fighter aircraft with an upgrade package for their famed Musician interceptor and the Imperial Navy was eagerly buying up their Privateer strike aircraft which could be produced quicker and cheaper than the competing Faulconer design, the Anteater, which had recently acquitted itself proudly in New Regensburg. Blackthrope’s Picaroon had even snatched up a lucrative contract for Strike Command’s attack squadrons. Even little Fuller Air Systems had snatched up a pair of Imperial Navy contracts. Faulconer, despite these setbacks, remained the most prestigious aircraft producer in the Empire.

A sudden knocking interrupted Sir Alex from his rambling thoughts and his secretary showed in several well-dressed men and a woman in engineer’s overalls, still visibly stained with grease and oil. They all took seats in front of Hail’s desk and the men cleared their throats awkwardly. Each offered a token greeting to the owner and Hail nodded in return.

“Gentlemen,” he acknowledged in an amiable, businesslike manner. “Maria,” he turned to his wife, who sat happily to his left, and spoke in a more cheerful manner, “You’ve been busy.” He nodded at her soiled workwear.

“I’ve been fixing up that D.103,” Maria replied, grinning like a schoolchild, “I shall be able to fly it in a few days.”

“That’s wonderful, darling, however did you manage it?” Sir Alex leaned forward, resting his head on his knuckles and his elbows on his desk.

Maria laughed. “And let you and these bloodsuckers learn my secret,” she joked, “As if!”

“You wound me, Maria,” Sir Alex responded, feigning hurt.

“The only thing that could wound you is a missing number in your account sheets, let’s get on with this.” The smiling greasemonkey replied, only half-joking. “You had a meeting with a Minister…”

“Lord Archibald Dorian-Mersey,” Sir Alex explained, lighting up a cigarette, “has been put in as Minister of Air. This is very important for us. This shows that the government is worried that this may be an air war, an air war which we are ill-equipped to win.”

“Who was at this meeting?” A young, grey-suited man asked, fiddling with his biro.

Sir Alex sighed, “Maynard bloody Blackthrope, for a start. There were a few of Dorian-Mersey’s own people and an Air Service officer. And even old Anthony Fuller was there.”

“Cut the bullshit, darling, what was it all about?” Bored, and evidently wanting to get back to her wrenchwork, Maria Falconer-Hail interrupted.

“We’ve been contracted to produce eight new Achilles transport craft and twenty Sea Poachers.” Sir Alex began.

A further interruption from Maria, “Sea Poachers, contracted by the IAS?”

“Yes, the Minister was wondering if we could design a simplified version for use by new close air support squadrons.”

“What a grand idea,” one of the suited gentlemen blurted.

“Quite,” Sir Alex continued, “He also made a very, very interesting proposition. The Ministry of Air wishes to reactivate Bomber Command and, in the light of the Edomite bombing attack on Frankenlisch, start retaining bomber squadrons again.”

“You’re shitting me…” The youngest of the group, clad in a waistcoat rather than a suit jacket, swore.

“I’m not. We’re all in with a chance, Faulconer, Blackthrope and Fuller. Jeremy, what do reckon they’ll do?”

The youngest, once again, spoke up. “Blackthrope will likely work off of the success of the Picaroon or even the Privateer, they’ll probably develop something of a more tactical bent. We would be advised to take a strategic angle.”

“What about Fuller?”

“Anthony Fuller is a wild-card. He holds two contracts and those are with the Imperial Navy. I could not be sure but they might play to their strengths fully, something light and little, perhaps even turboprop. The sort of thing they fly in Ayaca.”

“Anthony Fuller isn’t stupid enough to miss a chance like this for a two-squadron run with Support Command. I have always considered him a greater threat than Blackthrope and Westonland combined.” Sir Alex lectured, “He’ll do what he does best, experiment. Best to focus on what we’re doing and leave Anthony Fuller to his own mad devices.”

“What are we doing?” An older man, with a woollen cardigan under his suit jacket, asked, scribbling notes on his pad at twelve times the speed of light.

Sir Alex opened his mouth but his wife’s words were out before he could croak a noise. “Object 213, our last bomber project was scrapped in 2000 after Bomber Command was split under the Ridgewell Reforms. We could continue it or use its findings to help develop a newer model. Was there no specifications?”

“If it can fly and kill people with bombs, the Air Ministry will review it.” Sir Alex said, bluntly, “We could strap some grenades to a bin with wings and they’d consider it. However, I’d actually quite like to win this contract funnily enough, so we’re doing this properly. Break out Two-One-Three and see what can be done with it.”

[Solisian Union]

Agustín waited for his chance to speak. He had another matter to raise. And he patiently waited for the King to finish speaking. When he had passed the document down the table for T'lok to study, Agustín spoke up.

"Your Imperial Majesty, if I may add a concern to the discussion which we are all participating in, I must raise the request of the Solisian Federated Empire, in the name of Her Majesty, to send more liaison officers as well as to arrange talks among the active commanders of the forces of the coalition in Deadora. My proposal concerns the coordination and the communication of our forces and the commanders of these forces. Her Majesty has been specific about this. So, if I may extend this proposal to every other member of our coalition, would it then be, if I may, appropriate for Solisia to establish firmer communications with the rest of the coalition as well as to schedule meetings and other forms of coordination among all the active commanders of the coalition? While I certainly do not doubt that our coalition is united, I cannot allow the request of Her Majesty to be forgotten, and so I raised it before the honorable delegate from Deadora and the Khanate could speak. I do beg your pardon."

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

The Call to War: Part Two, Frankenlisch
The Political Front

During the first weeks of the war, the situation in Frankenlisch was highly confused. Nobody knew for sure what was going on and even Parliament was kept unaware of the progress of the war, or lack thereof. When the Mercer Paper was released, Parliament was outraged. All this preparation, all this action had been performed without their consent or even their knowledge. Even members of the government frontbench were entirely ignorant of the situation. For several weeks, the House of Commons was abandoned by its leadership and Thomas Howe and Roger de'Mowbare capitalised on this expertly, their bold and coordinated attacks on the government wilting the confidence of the members of the House. For most in Parliament, it was as if there wasn't a war at all. In fact, it did not feel that way for much of the population either, who were blissfully unaware or stubbornly uninterested. The first change to this came when the King and his War Cabinet's political plans reached the ears of Parliament.

---

Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
House of Commons

---

Julio Mortani had never been a prominent MP. He did his constituency work, turned up for all the important debates. He could not help but feel disappointed that his erstwhile leader, Benito Amendola, had not yet officiated their party and lifted the Marienberg National Party from the humble coalition of independent MPs which was its present incarnation.

One can imagine his disgust when the Speaker of the House, James Orten, made the announcement that all independent MPs would have to stand down or align themselves to a party for the sake of national unity. "His Imperial Majesty has further decreed," Orten continued, grimacing in distaste to assure the arrayed members of his own disapproval, “That parties holding fewer than fifteen seats will be required to disperse for the duration of hostilities, in the name of national unity. The resignation or movement of effected Members must be finished within ten days..”

Orten could not get another word out before he was drowned by jeers and protests from the smaller parties and, sensing political potential, the Labour Party joined their shouts. The Conservative and Imperial MPs remained conspicuous by their silence. Mortani was dumbfounded. He looked to the right, Amendola, the MP for Marienberg North, was silent, a deep grimace of hate displaying his opinion to the House. The other Independents sat in sullen, seething silence. Giacomo Messano, the MP for Marienberg South was on his feet, however, screaming at the Speaker about the insult to the honour of Marienberg and how the Rebellion of 2010 would be dwarfed by the uprising this would spark.

"Order, order, I say!" James Orten tried to quieten the protesting politicians. The semi-circular chamber echoed with shouts and jeers and it took ten minutes for the noise to be managed. Orten continued bravely, though perhaps foolishly as the interruptions did not stop, "His Imperial Majesty, the King, is to address the House in person in three day's time. All members are required to be in attendance. Today's sitting is adjourned!"

---

Results of the 2018 Vionna-Frankenlischian General Election
Conservative Party - Count Dochlov Zimmermann - 275 Seats
Imperial Party - Arthur Astron - 251 Seats
Labour Party - Thomas Howe - 184 Seats
Democratic Liberal Party - Roger de'Mowbare - 44 Seats
National Front - Aidan Willard - 12 Seats
Colonial Union Party - Matthew Campdown - 9 Seats
Federal Party - Joshua Wood - 8 Seats
Worker's Socialist Party - Kathleen Kamoine - 7 Seats
Vionnan National Party - Barry Stockton - 7 Seats
Frankenlisch First Party - Dame Alexandra Edmont - 5 Seats
Green Party - Carol Lukash - 3 Seats
Independent MPs - N/A - 20 Seats

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Parliamentary Makeup following the 2019 Royal Electoral Decree
Conservative Party - Count Dochlov Zimmermann - 275 Seats - Neither gained nor lost
Imperial Party - Arthur Astron - 256 Seats - Gained 5 Seats
Labour Party - Thomas Howe - 184 Seats - Neither gained nor lost
Democratic Liberal Party - Roger de'Mowbare - 67 Seats - Gained 23 Seats
Imperial League of Nationalists - Dame Alexandra Edmont - 28 Seats
Worker's Socialist Party - Kathleen Kamoine - 15 Seats - Saved by Independant MPs
National Front - Aidan Willard - 0 Seats - Reformed as Imperial League of Nationalists
Colonial Union Party - Matthew Campdown - 0 Seats - Split and joined other parties (4 ILN, 5 Imperial)
Federal Party - Joshua Wood - 0 Seats - Joined Democratic Liberal Party
Vionnan National Party - Barry Stockton - 0 Seats - Reformed as Imperial League of Nationalists
Frankenlisch First Party - Dame Alexandra Edmont - 0 Seats - Reformed as Imperial League of Nationalists
Green Party - Carol Lukash - 0 Seats - Joined Democratic Liberal Party
Independent MPs - N/A - 0 Seats - Re-elected or joined other parties (12 Democratic Liberal, 8 Worker's Socialist)