The Fall of Voerdeland (IC: ATTN Vapor)

[Gratia Infinita]

21 December 1890, Angelhurst. Outside Mewich. 8:00 AM

Acting President Jaurdan Melhurst stared through the watery glass of the official cab at the bleak winter skies. The lightly armored steam car had been recently 'requisitioned' from an abandoned army base, along with a plethora of other useful items that looters and rebel agitators had overlooked. It had promptly been painted black, re-upholstered, and re-purposed to carry the Acting President, the Secretary of State, and Senator George Vaniles, the acting representative of what remained of the Parliament.

In many ways, Angelhurst was a pleasant place, and Jaurdan would have enjoyed the visit much more if he had not been coming on such weighty business. Broad, cobble-stoned streets flanked by picturesque shops and cafes. Out-of-the-way cottages surrounded by hedges. Cool groves of ancient trees. A poster-card for rural Voerdeland. Oh my country, Jaurdan thought, his face glum, How long will death stalk your woods and streets? The trains between Pefalls and Mewich had been derailed by bandits, at least until a hundred miles outside of Pefalls. That had meant a long, bouncy ride in the steamcar until they had found an intact line, and a conductor and crew willing to accommodate them. The presence of fifty Gratian Knights, mounted and fully armed, hadn’t hurt in the least. Only a few stray rounds had ricocheted off of the hastily armored passenger cars.

The church was located in the main street of the village. St. Katharina was one of the oldest church buildings in Voerdeland, built by some of the earliest Christian missionaries to the region. Over the centuries, it had been transformed from a humble wooden sanctuary to a structure that rivaled many of the cathedrals in Beauford. A single stone spire soared to breathtaking heights, and stained glass glowed in the dim, cold light of the winter sun. The steamcar and its cavalry escort came to a rattling, hissing halt just in front of the great copper-clad oaken doors. Jaurdan stepped out, unsure of what manner of greeting awaited him. God willing, this meeting would save the country. God willing.

[Cyprum Xecuii]

Northern Regions of Zhao
Area concerning the south shorelines of Voerdeland
December 22nd, 1890 - 5:04 Early Morning

A Field Officer had just woken up inside his tent, his eyes weary, face unwashed, and boots still uncleaned he felt nothing but tiredness and exhaustion from the long march the night before. As he looks around his tent he realizes that it's nearly pitch black interior, and so, he moves his hands around the tent to find his towel and water flask to wash his face while he eyes begin to adjust to the scene. He manages to find both right on his left side, opens the flask and pours just a bit of water, wiping his face and then putting them back where he assumes they were, his eyes now begin able to see most of his tent. It's not much, a rolled futon behind him, some personal kit to the left, rucksack near his legs, and his equipment to the right. He slowly rises up and semi-crawls to open his tent covers and see around him however, before he gets to it a light appears and begins to get brighter and brighter. Fearing that a group of Voerdish rebels and/or rouge Voerdish militarymen may have killed the officer's camp mates and comrades in their sleep he reaches for his rifle and loads a stripper clip of 10 fresh rounds into it, pushes back the bolt and aims towards the flaps where the light becomes brighter and larger by the second. The Officer feels intent to fire at any second, fearful that the assailant may fire in first, but as he is about to pull the trigger, the light stops and a voice familiar to him calls out.

"Oi Kora, inu desuna soreno mina?" [Oi there, who's in the tent and why aren't you up?]

The officer knows it's a subordinate of his and replies,

"Bakadiyo!, soren wa kore mina Taicho!" [You Idiot!, it's your commander!"]

A couple seconds after he said that, the light grew closer again and the tent flaps began to open. Suddenly, in popped a tanker which was holding a kerosene lamp in his left hand. He put it down to block one of the flaps from closing back and asked his Officer [translated to English] why he was still in there.

"What are you doing in here? Everyone else left for breakfast over at the riverside"

"I just woke up, and how did you know someone was in here?"

"The openings weren't open and propped up and you kept shuffling inside"

"You're just noisy for even thinking like that"

"Well, i finished breakfast first so they told me to check on the drowsy folks. Now come on and eat with the others"

"Alright fine, but what time is it?"

"About..." He checks his timepiece next to the kerosene lamp "Err around 5:08 sir"

"Ah, this will be a pain...whatever alright alright, move away from the opening, I'll get up"

"Yessir" and he moves out of the tent, yet still near it to direct him to the riverside.

The Officer stretches a bit, and moving towards his boots, he props them on while having the most monotone expression on his face. Clearly he didn't want to wake up so early to simply eat a meal in which would make him want to go back and take a nap anyways. Regardless, he makes sure that they had a comfortable fit, and then proceeded to take his sidearm in case his 'Voerdish attack' come to life. He exits out of the tent and does more back arching and neck cracking before his tanker comrade.

"Haai Haai, Ikuze" [okay, okay let's go] the officer says and off the tanker went.

As they reached the riverside the Officer noticed that his marching party had practically made another field camp, making huge bonfires and some evening bringing their tents as well. He spoke a few words of good morning and such to his comrades and having split with the tanker after he directed him to the noodle soup line, he waited for his meal. In doing so, he began looking at the golden, fire lit scenery around him, it almost romantic in a way, a beautiful riverside with trees, scrubs, and other wondrous embodiment of nature. He curiously looked up above to see the sky and looking to the right, he saw the clear and perfectly magnificent moon as a full sphere shining it's reflected sunlight below.

"Oi kora" [Oi there] the cook says to the officer.

"Ah pardon, it's just that the moon is beautiful as of now" He points towards it and the cook looks as well.

"Your right, it's a reminder of who we are despite being here"

"Indeed tis true, but no matter now I'm getting hungry from the smell, what do we have this morning?"

"Shrimp Flavored Ramen, Tschowian Style"

"Seems good enough, pour it here my good man" The soup flows into the bowl and the smell is still of a fresh batch

"Thats good stuff, alright thank you"

"No problem comrade"

He sits and begins his meal, ready for the beginning in which the Xecuiian people will carry out their mission to liberate the nation of Voerdeland.

[Pavlostani]

Code: Select all

From X to Pavel
I understand we are having problems with Voerdeland, and most particularly, the men who are massacring their way through Voerdeland. They are angry about the slaughter of a long range border team. They are not the only ones. A handful of other officers are affected, and sympathize with these men. Thought I would give you a heads up.

The Dictator read the telegram carefully. "This is bad." Milanvanzi observed. "Really. No shit Alberto." Pavel snapped. "Well, just saying. We have enemies, and no idea who they are. At the very least, we should declare martial law." Alberto Milanvanzi said. "No. It would cause panic if the people learned about these men." Pavel said. The window shattered, and Pavel dove behind his desk. "Sniper!" Milanvanzi shouted. "This is the Dictator, there's a sniper on the Forum!" He shouted into his radio. "It's a bit of a long range, his shots won't be accurate!" Milanvanzi pointed out. "Nice to know!" Pavel screamed. A figure was visible on top of the Forum. "He must be the sniper!" Milanvanzi yelled. "Duck you ass!" Pavel shouted. Milanvanzi barely dodged a bullet. "If we make it, sure, I"ll declare martial law." Pavel yelled sarcastically. Four men were climbing on top of the Forum behind the assassin. One of the drew what appeared to be a knife, and stabbed the sniper. "Coast is clear." Captain Fa said. Pavel stood up, and sent a telegram to every household in Khamul.

Code: Select all

This is a Dictatorial message. Khamul is now in a state of emergency.

[Cyprum Xecuii]

Northern Regions of Zhao
Area concerning the south shorelines of Voerdeland
December 22nd, 1890 - 6:47

The moon is just beginning to fall during the last quarter of the hour; the soldiers are barely able to see the sunrise over the horizon of the waterside. About an half an hour before, the Kommandant in lead of the regiment had ordered the formation to begin packing their equipment and personal wares in order for them to be prepared to march onward as the day begins. The Field Officer is now packing his tent kit, taking his time setting apart the tent pikes and folding the canvas. As he finishes, he sets the canvas and pikes in the outermost back pocket of his rucksack and closes the flap. He picks the entire bag up with a huff, and bending down carefully, he takes both his helmet and rifle, having them in their respectful places (helmet -> head, rifle -> right hand). A subordinate comrade from his own platoon calls him over, pointing to the minuscule looking gun-tractor next to him. The field Officer immediately displays a look of horror and confusion, worrying whether he been assigned to control the thinly 'paper' armored death trap or whether he had the responsibility to escort it. Reluctantly he goes to the soldier and asks him about the situation.

"What the hell is that?"

"Oh, that. It's our escorting gun-tractor"

"WHAT?! why do you say that so casually? That thing doesn't look like it'll be good even for a banzai charge"

"Well...it's armed with a machine gun at least"

"That thing there couldn't save us from a type-1 gun tractor, and even the latter has at least a 50mm cannon to protect us. Why aren't we using the standard Shira gun-tractor?"

"According to command, the nation of Voerdeland has no gun-tractors in it's arsenal, and allied inesea has offered mobile artillery to soften possible enemy defenses. As a plus to the Chisai-nu gun-tractor, it can withstand standard rifle and automatic rifle ammunition thrown at it so we should be fine"

"Did you say chisai [xecuiian for tiny]? The country is manufacturing miniature gun-tractors for the military now?"

"Indeed we are, i like to call it the chu chu. Say it it's fun"

"NO!"

"Okay then..."

"... *wipes hand over face* ...so this thing is supposed to protect us now..."

"Yep. Look at the others, they don't seem to mind"

"Well I'm all for dying for the country, but having shells strike the thing and having those allied parts splash and cut into my body isn't exactly how i want to leave this world"

"Too late now so come on, you can't leave your position without being a coward and traitor so just deal with it"

"Why are you lecturing your commanding officer?"

"I'm not sure...but she *points to the kommandant in the turret cupola of a Shi-ko tank* said for us to do so"

"Ah whatever, okay okay ugghhh go go go"

The soldier walks over to the Chisai-nu while the Field Officer chugs along at a slower pace eventually meeting with the squadron. After going over a quick briefing of commands to move forward northeast to the town of braystead while another force goes to reinforce friendly units at medale, the Field Officer's entire group climbs aboard the small gun-tractor, the amount of soldiers on top of it almost dwarfing it in size while the driver inside yells at his comrades from the vision slit to move their legs out of the way as he drives onward with the rest of the half regiment.

[Vjiay]

Nations of Amplector

Regarding: The militarisation of the railroad.

Sirs and Madams,

We are all aware of the unfortunate circumstances in the former Voerdeland. The humanitarian crisis there deepens everyday and it warms my heart to see such an outpouring of aid joining that from my nation to help the suffering. It is obvious that the railroad has allowed this aid to reach the required areas in good time.

Now, some of you have requested that military force be allowed to pass through the nation of Vjiay en route to the former Voerdeland. Bluntly, the answer to that is no. Not only is the militarisation of the railroad against the pretenses that my nation undertook the endeavour, but it is not clear what aims your nations have in the region and the chance that they may not be in line with ours is one we can’t take.

Yours sincerely,

William Pelly.

Northern Valoria,
22nd December, 1890. 05:30

The rain spattered heavily down, so thick in the grey, early morning that he could hardly see the man only a few yards ahead of him. The only indication he even had company was the rhythmic, rapid squelching that two dozen pairs of heavy boots made in the mud and the puddles and the occasional motivational one liner that made it out of the breathless lungs of an unseen mate.

Jimmy Hannon plodded on. His head bowed against the rain, his shoulders hunched with the weight of the Bergen on his back and his freezing knuckles white due to the tightness with which he was clutching his rifle at hip height. The swinging of the weapon was helping him with his marching, but he was sure that the brass plate on the butt - which was repeatedly banging his hip - was leaving a permanent indentation of the rifle’s serial number on his skin. His shins were currently the part of his legs that were in most pain, so when the muffled shout of ‘Prepare to double… Double!’ came he was for ten seconds relieved, as the speed of the march was increased and his thighs took the burn.

“Only five more miles, only five more miles,” he repeated in his head over and over, though his legs felt more and more leaden with every step and his arms were struggling to keep his weapon in the patrol position. He daren’t let it droop, however, as the sergeant would berate him immediately with eyes that saw every misdemeanour.

Suddenly, after a number of steps that Jimmy had lost count of, the patrol came to a halt, the solider in front materialising so suddenly that Jimmy almost slipped over just stopping.

His cry of “Bloody hell!” joined the incredulous shouts of others that had been experiencing the same sudden halt.

Apparently, it turned out, the halt had been called, yet the roar of the rain and wind had drowned out the message that had been passed on. Now, the question was why they were stopping on a sixteen mile straight march.

After a few moments of shuffling, the shivering soldiers were called forward and were told to huddle around the rear of a motor van. In it under the cover their platoon captain, one Oscar Duron stood, crouching slightly and steadying himself with a hand on the above rail.

“Alright lads!” he yelled over the elements, just audible to the people at the back, “One section in the first, car, two section in the second and three in the third!” He motioned vaguely to the convoy, whose engines were humming on idle, “We have orders to return to base immediately. We are going to Voerdeland!”

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Cainian Airfield, 5 miles outside of Cainia

Combat Pilot(Zeppelin) First Class Wang Chou, age 36, lounged contentedly on the bed. He had finally drawn no duty for the first time in two months and was enjoying the break. He recounted his life since joining the Inesean People's Air Force 8 years ago. He was admitted into the academy and graduated second in his class of 50 as a Pilot Second Class. He first flew the clunky, barely mobile Khamul-class airship. Then, two years ago, he was promoted to Pilot First Class. With the promotion came the option of upgrading to the new, venerable FTC Flying-Monitor-class Combat Zeppelin. Well retaining the name given to it by the Fanalglians, it was heavily modified by Inesea, and was now being produced in limited quantities domestically. Then, a shrill alarm echoed through the base.

"GENERAL QUARTERS! GENERAL QUARTERS! Operation FREEMAN"S NORTH has been commenced! Details will be given at stations!" blared the klaxon.

What the hell, thought Wang. He hastily put on his Combat Dress, and rushed to the Aerodrome. Upon his arrival, his CO, captain Bing, handed him a slip. On it, the destination said Onheath. Voerdeland.

"What the almighty is Onheath?" Wang asked. "It is a minor Voerish City. We have been ordered to secure it." said Captain Bing. "All of the 1st and 2nd Combat Wings are being sent, plus 4 Air Ranger Battalions." My god, thought Wang, that was 52 FTC's plus 25 Transport Dirigibles with 170 men each. "That is an invasion force!" exclaimed Wang. "That the point" said Bing.

[Dalruanazkal]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
Sharokeen Palace
December 22, 1890

“Any notable changes in the Voerdeland crisis?” asked the young King Vul-Hassimir VII to the men assembled before him in his office. The ongoing civil war did not ring any alarms in Atrahasis-kal-ammi since the no one imagined that the conflict would interfere with shipping between the Caeruleus and Levidius. But the recent arming of the rebels escalated the conflict in uncomfortable ways quickly. With several nations twirling their fingers around the Old Republic, the New Republic, and the people caught between both, spinning and twisting them all to their respective wills, the heads of the Dalruanazkali government placed the civil war first and foremost in their collective attention. “Have there been any changes in how we are handling the crisis?” quickly added the King.

“No, your Majesty. The general census among the Duma and Elder’s Council is to stay the course of non-intervention. They are also supportive of your proposed address to call on all foreign nations to withdraw from Voerdeland. In fact they are nearly asking that you do so as soon as you are able.” said General of the Army Anos Abi-Maras. The general paused lighting a coca cigar, adding to the heavy odor and veil of smoke filling the room. “In other news, Cyprum Xecuii is further marching into Voerdeland, as more armies from Amplector arrive. My intelligence boys tell me they do not expect more cities other then the newly named Lux to fall simply by words and hopeful promises to the hopeless. They are unsure how far Servoth plans to push their ambitions in Voerdeland. On a brighter note, the conflict appears to be calming down as we believe that the Old and New Republics are coming to a peace talk.”

Vul-Hassimir nodded at the general’s conclusion. He softly spoke “Good, good.” The winding down of the conflict might that other nations would not put pressure on Dalruanazkal to act. Yet his eyes conveyed a sense that Vul-Hassimir did not want the conflict to stop as soon as it seemed it was. “Very well, let’s hope for this civil war to end as soon as it can, as we know how brutal a war of brothers can be,” said the King, referring to Dalruanazkal’s own civil war that happened over a hundred years ago. “Archpriest Miza’s call for Mishmahigian Christians to return to Mishmahig, how is that being taken by our people?”

The Interior Minster cleared his throat. The short, hefty man with his graying hulihee had become the target of various angry worker groups. Under the last minister appointed by Maruduk-izkur, the police had usually let strikes and factory protests persist, so long as they did not turn violent or damage property and they hardly did. Vul-Hassimir did not feel the same way his father did for strikers and factory protests. He appointed Rimsin Ummiah-zirti the founder of Ummiah-zirti Rail as Interior Minister. He became famous for hiring strikebreakers and private investigators to spy on the strikers. His tactics are becoming widely adopted across Dalruanazkali factories. As Interior Minister, Ummiah-zirti used police to break up nearly any strike, often resulting in violence. Many found him unpopular for alleged corruption and the violent police-worker clashes that happened under him. The powder keg of the worker’s movement was usually checked by non-governmental inference, allowing unions and workers to gain rights and socialist parties passed laws helping them at local levels. Now Ummiah-zirti was filling the keg with more gunpowder and no was sure when the match would fall and explode.

The Minister slowly stood up, wiping his mouth of the last sip of Opi-Coca he took. “Miza’s speech has spread rapidly amongst the Mishmahigian Christian minority. Most are eager to leave, but lack the finical means to depart. In an odd sense of irony, there are several Alkurdi purists funding their exodus. This leads us to predict that just under an eighth of the Mismahigian Christian minority will leave, or one hundred eighty thousand and seven hundred and fifty person. Other purists however, though less generous with their money, are just as charitable with their fists, have beat some of these Mishmahigians, saying they are no longer welcomed here. A vocal group of Mishmahigian Christians are calling on you to take action and help their plight.”

A few chuckles could be heard in the room, Ummiah-zirti among them. The King kept his serious demeanor. He knew this was bad press, though only to the international audience. Minister Ummiah-zirti does his job well. Good for him or his narrow-mindedness would put him out of a job. thought Vul-Hassimir. “Issue a statement saying your police will protect anyone from assault, regardless of ethnicity or creed. The law applies to all citizens of Dalruanazkal.” The Minister stood shocked, not sure why his king was so concerned about this small minority. “Tell the vocal Mishmahigian Christians you speak of will receive their protection from assault and battery just as any other citizen will, but we will not be helping any leave. They are free to use our rails, roads, and waterways, but not a single government dollar will come to aid their emigration.” The Interior Minister, still surprised, silently acknowledged the order and sat back down. “I believe we are adjourned, thank you all for coming today, resume your hard work, and may the Divines bless you.”

The various men returned the blessing ‘May the Divines bless the King,’ and filed out of the room, filing the adjoining room with their smoke. Three gentlemen moved more slowly than the rest and walked behind the others. One closed the door and there was only the three and the King. The three men, General Anos Abi-Maras, his subordinate General Iluni Damuzuu, the head of Army and Aerial Research, and Gamabu Zuhamma, a wealthy industrialist and investor, though many did not understand why he was present at these matters, holding no government office or army rank. “Are we ready to discuss Operation Silver Tree?” asked General Abi-Maras.

“Yes, lets,” said the king. The three men approached their King and sat closely around him. General Iluni began telling him about the Nibiru Coil and the military’s discovery of the man who invented it. A brilliant engineer was among the first Dalruanazkali to discover how to produce electricity some years ago. He came across by accident when he tried making a vehicle move by having a steam engine move magnets to spin a metal wheel. It was not fruitful, but noticed that ‘thunder-sparks’ formed when he tried rotating the magnet rapidly around a fixed piece of copper. Curious about what he witnessed, he read many foreign books on the matter, going to many lengths to translate them. After learning a good deal about the new phenomenon, he started a correspondence with other electrical engineers in other countries. In late 1885, when the army began scouting for engineers and mechanics to build an airship prototype, they came across Adrahasis Nibiru, a factory mechanic and aspiring engineer, who showed the agents his experiments with electricity. After telling them the sparks could be deadly even at six milliamps, but could be ‘stored with reasonable safety,’ the army took him under their wing and more importantly on their budget.

Just recently, Nibiru and the military engineers helping him created a tall pillar with a polished sphere on top that generated a high voltage with low current, something Nibiru hopes he can use to transmit the energy made from steam and deliver it as electricity to anywhere on the globe. “However we believe that the voltage can be decreased and increase the current and provide something that we are sure can kill anyone without a doubt,” finished the research head.

King Vul-Hassimir did not understand much of the technical jargon. Luckily, Mr. Zuhamma was able to put it in simple terms for the king. He understood the killing power of it. What about field tests so far?” he asked.

“We have experimented on animals, all of which died,” Began Damuzuu. “We have tested it some prisoners slated to be executed, and they died nearly one hundred percent of the time, the survivors were often paralyzed or went into shock. One fell to the ground but got back up, having suffering only burns. However, we have no idea how it might stand up in combat. How many it could kill before it was destroyed, if it even can be. We need a field test, with armed soldiers.” The King paused for an uncommonly long amount of time. He had some faith in the project, though he did not know how to test the new weapon. Testing it on Dalruanazkali soldiers was out of the question, and armed prisoners on death row weren’t exactly soldiers, plus it might be dangerous.

“Your Majesty, may I offer you a suggestion?” asked the General of the Army. Vul-Hassimir nodded his head. “I, and some accomplices, have thought we could take advantage of the chaos in Veordeland. We could have a small unit head to Veordeland and construct a functional, experimental Nibiru Coil for one or both fractions secretly, without international knowledge of our Nibiru Coil weapons or arming of either of the Veordelandish Republics.”

Vul-Hassimir mulled over the suggestion. It was high-risk, but it could allow the military to understand a brand new and terrifying weapon. “Very well, we will carry out Operation Silver Tree. I will send a secret emissary to the militaries of both republics seeing if they will take us up on our offer. Then we will deploy the coils and see what happens. I do not want the world to know about this, use whatever means necessary to ensure secrecy. Good day gentlemen.” With his final order, the two officers stood up and left the room, leaving the king with the wealthy industrialist. “Now where were we, Gamabu?”

[Wirbel]

Kohlenstoffburg, Wirbel

"The Vijay's have said that we cannot pass through their nation," said the telegram operator.

"Damn it," said General von Kohlenstoffburg. "Kaiser, the Vijayans have said no."

The Kaiser slammed his hand on an open desk. "NO!" he yelled. "Come with me, General. But good work, telegram operators. I badly needed an answer."

In private, the Kaiser spoke to General von Kohlenstoffburg.

"I didn't get to speak to you about this yet. But my chemists have created a deadly weapon. It is a gas that will cause people to die when they breathe it in. These chemists are also trying to experiment with masks and rags that soldiers could wear to protect themselves. This would allow us to create a cloud of this stuff and advance through it while the enemy slowly and painfully dies," whispered the Kaiser. "Please do not tell anyone about this. It is classified information."

"I like the sound of this," replied General von Kohlenstoffburg. "Could we put this stuff in canisters or in bombs and drop it from airships?"

"Great idea, General. I'll ask the chemists about that. It could be a possible way in which we could deliver this weapon," replied the Kaiser. "For now, I'd like you to get the Forscher and try to get some pictures of Vijay and of Voerdeland."

---

The massive airship came out of the hangar.

"She's got a rigid skeleton. This is the test version. When the research is complete, she will be operational," said Yitzhak. "I'm sure the Kaiser will love this when I unveil it. It is named after him: 'Adifikum'."

[Fanaglia]

Palace Evander
Kraftenberg Municipality, Fanaglia
20 December, 1890
15:05 Local Time

It had been nearly a week since Captain Varia's report and there had still been no word from her with regards to Black Shield. Give her time, Queen Autumn told herself, but it was of little use. The more information she received from Voerdeland, the more the whole region appeared to be like a small, wounded animal to a colony of fire ants.

There were reports of Khamulan troops rampaging across the countryside, sowing destruction wherever they went. The Servothians had annexed a small town in southeastern Voerdeland and renamed it "Lux." There were vague rumors of aggressive force exerted by an anarchist faction in the south against an Inesean reconnaissance team; the Ineseans had since responded by declaring war on the New Republic. Large numbers of Xecuiian troops had been reported in the southwest. The two republics were to meet on the morrow to discuss peace, but the Lord knew how that would turn out; that eternally irritating ass, Pelley, was continuing to block military aid to the New Republic, in any case.

Then there was this matter with the Mishmahigan Exodus. Despite the shouting and threats of resignation by several of her aides about the loss in tax dollars and national unity, it was of little consequence to her what these people from her own kingdom chose to do and, though she hoped her lovely nation was to their liking and that they should wish to remain, she made sure to ease the emigration of anyone who chose to do so. What worried her, though, was the effect it could have on Voerdeland, where Mishmahigan Christians made up a rather sizable minority. With the chaos and the persecution in that region, an understandably small percentage would be willing to remain. A population shift of that magnitude would certainly have great, though difficult to predict, implications for the growing crisis. She only hoped that her own kindness to the Fanaglian Mishmahigan Christians would somehow strengthen the resolve of Archpriest Meza and his people, if only in numbers alone, so that they could continue to help fight the tyranny represented by the VPG.

For now, though, she poured her attention into one of the few things over which she still felt she had control -- the contents of her liquor cabinet.

---

St. Katharina Church
Angelhurst, The Republic of Nova Voerda
21 December, 1890
08:00 Local Time

It was still the dead of night in Angenhurst when President Wayford arrived on the morning of the solstice -- such was the way with these short winter days in Voerdeland. As his coach neared the stately church, he spied an empty motorcar parked before her grand doors, guarded by several armed men, some clad in the garb of a Gratian knight and some in the uniform of the Old Republic. The sight of these latter men -- nay, these so-called "patriots" were less than men, but traitors -- made his stomach turn. The acting president (Melhurst was his name, according to the briefing he received before departing) must have already been waiting inside. Despite having no small number of armed guards himself, what awaited him behind those doors still made him feel uneasy. That was why he had decided to hold the talks in a church in the first place.

After restoring his composure, he exited the coach and entered the church, followed by Josef Barnes, the speaker of the house, and Jacqueline Beaumont. Inside the sanctuary, behind the last row of pews was set up a large wooden table with chairs all around; the delegates from the VPG were already seated, their notes, dossiers, and other paperwork already arranged to suit their needs and convenience. "Good morning, gentlemen," he greeted them as warmly as he could.

---

The mountains just outside Angelhurst, The Republic of Nova Voerda
21 December, 1890
08:00 Local Time

Bernard Fouché was picking ice crystals out of his beard. This served a dual purpose -- it served as an activity to keep his mind active in his exceedingly dull task with which he had been charged and, more importantly, it helped keep the blood in his fingers moving to keep them relatively warm. He did not let this activity distract him from his task, though. He kept his binoculars trained on the village below, watching for any signs of movement from either of the belligerent parties. He counted some fifty Gratian mounted troops and a motorcar coming from the south and perhaps eighty Republican troops, about half of them mounted, coming from the east and escorting a coach drawn by two horses. The bulk of the troops from both sides remained on the outskirts of the village while the marks entered the church as planned. He signaled silently to his partner, who, as quickly as he could while so stiff with cold, ran to relay the sitrep to the rest of the men hidden there. Things were about to get very loud very soon.

[Cyprum Xecuii]

Northern Regions of Zhao
Voerdeland, between 70 - 30 km from Braystead
December 22nd, 1890 - 12:23

The Field Officer had been moving alongside his fellow comrades for around 6 hours, moving about 30km forward each hour. The light from the sun was not harsh nor blinding, but the soldiers certainly felt waves of heat as they continued on their way, especially when they chose to ride on the warm metal of the gun-tractors rather than walk on the relatively colder roads and fields. The Officer had been standing near the cupola of his squad's escorting Chisai-Nu gun-tractor, looking about the landscape ahead in coordination with the tank commander. Several minutes passed in which the Officer became quickly bored of having seen the same scenery for around 6 or 7 hours. He tried to strike up a conversation with the commander in hopes that it'll give him something to do.

"So...nice view we've got here..."

"Indeed...the same view we've had for hours..."

"Mmmm hmmm...so...what have you been doing?..."

"You've seen me in this contraption almost the entire time, are you stupid?"

"I'm just trying to strike a conversation now..."

"Well Sakura, there's no need point trying when you know that it's not going to get anywhere"

"Oi, it's Sakurai to you and you know what Naomi? you've no reason to make my name look like a girl when your chest is as flat as a man!"

The tank commander turns away and reluctantly feels her small lumps but quickly turns back and smacks Sakurai on the left cheek.

"Woah Woah Woah!" He smacks her back as well.

As they begin to argue, another field officer pulls Sakurai off from the gun-tractor and then shoves Naomi back into the turret of the Chisai-Nu and closes the hatch, and then stepping on it to make sure there was no more confrontation between the two. The officer then holds Sakurai by his tunic collar and begins to questionhis attitude as a soldier.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"

"I was trying to make conversation sir!"

"DAMMIT, God...*he gradually calms down after some silence*...look Sakurai, i don't care whether you want to be here or not. In fact can you even tell me what we're here for?"

"To Liberate Voerdeland under the Xecuiian banner..."

"Indeed, and it's good that you understand that because that's your job. You're making a mockery of yourself as a squad officer so get it straight. If i have to come back here for the same issue then your not a Xecuiian anymore. It's for the country and nothing else, be loyal to the cause and we'll be out in no time, GET IT?"

"Yes sir"

"Good...now get back there and move up with the me-"

"Sir!!!" A soldier charges out from the front of the convoy in a bicycle towards the other Field Officer. Unusually the soldier is looking quite frightened despite there being no firefights or such at the moment.

"Hey calm down now, just slowly tell me what's going on"

"Sir...*he gasps for breath*...sir, there's a town in front but it's not braystead...some of the frontal units are worried of a possible ambush by rouge forces as they reach closer"

The field Officer takes out his periscope while Sakurai uses his binoculars, they both see a variety of 1 story to 3 story buildings in the distance ahead. Sakurai continues to scan a particular building which has many windows facing the right of the road, not quite being able to spy anyone in it, yet; he notices that a few of the windows are boarded up. Before he could get the other field Officer to speculate with him upon the odd features of the building, a shot is heard from far off near the frontal units of the half regiment in which the road convoy stops almost immediately. The soldiers behind the front section of the convoy are seen moving up quickly and gun-tractors are now being moved to the side to the fields, a maneuver which could only mean one thing to Sakurai and the other soldiers around him; it had been an ambush. Trying to take command of his responsible forces, he calls out for his comrades to fix their bayonets while he runs to the escorting gun-tractor. He opens the hatch to see Naomi, who was looking through her inner periscope to figure out the situation currently happening. Sakurai immediately explains to her that she needed to have the vehicle escort his comrades while initiated a charge across the field in order to engage in a Xecuiian scorpion attack as they flanked the boarded building where the shots had fired from. Agreeing to the task, she closes the hatch and the vehicle moves into position in the field as the soldiers attach their bayonets and Xecuiian flags onto their rifles. Sakurai positions the rifle safety to off and moves behind the gun-tractor along with the others. At the sound of a whistle by a Kommandant, Sakurai shouted at the top of his lungs "MINA IKUZO!!!" where his entire squadron along with other respective groups rushed across the field behind the gun-tractors.

The Chisai-Nu was surprisingly fast, outpacing the infantry behind it as Naomi cranked the turret while trying to pinpoint the boarded building. As soon as she saw it through the periscope, she held the automatic rifle trigger, firing a *toum toum toum* as it spread it's inaccurate but deadly hail of iron towards the building. The driver began to shake slightly as the vehicle reached the cobblestone roads of the town, continuing to drive at a pace in which the infantry could keep up until he made a grinding halt at an intersection. Sakurai and his comrades were in no way tired from the running, their adrenaline pushed them to move even further, reaching back around a few buildings with the gun-tractor support until they could see the boarded up house. Now at this point none of them could see the boarded up windows, not because they weren't looking at the front, but because the gun tractors with their 50 and 60mm armament made hell of the front face of building before they ceased firing. Sakurai led his men near a hole where allied soldiers were entering the building and proceeded to have the trench gunner take point with his shrapnel rifle (shotgun). Slowly entering the building, the soldiers noticed that rooms which were not blown away by the gun tractors still had kerosene lamps or candles lighting them. As they climbed up a staircase, the trench gunner swiftly took a side step and called a comrade over. The soldier went back to Sakurai and told him that there was a non Xecuiian warrior injured severely by a gun-tractor shrapnel shell and he was barely up the end of the staircase. Sakurai dashed up the stairs and saw a Voerd lying down clutching his wounds which were bleeding profusely. Noticing a bag next to the Voerd, he gently took it and felt around, feeling a sphere like object within. He reached in and pulled it out carefully, which upon seeing it he found it to be a ceramic grenade. Obviously he realized that those who were inside the building definitely were hostile to the regiment but he began to question why they would fight an entire force in a suicidal attempt such as this. After talking among comrades for a brief moment it came to him that the Voerdish rogues may have not seen them from the boarded windows, thinking of the front convoy to merely be a scouting force, not as part of entire regiment. As Sakurai turned back to the Voerd, he saw that the pain the man was taking was unbearable and agonizing so in an attempt to both to relieve the man of his pain while treating him as an enemy combatant, he aimed his rifle towards the Voerd's head and shot, leaving a splatter of blood on the walls and Xecuiian soldiers.

flanking tactic

[Inoroth]

Paleza Royale - Vinchero's Personal Study
Roth, the Eternal City
13th December
2:12 pm

The King took his glasses off for a moment, rubbing his strained eyes pensively. He really didn't need them, but wore them out of habit - their presence on the bridge of his nose was something of a comfort in these dark times. Spread out before him on the massive mahogany desk were piles of papers, looking like the fresh snow that blanketed the Piazza outside the office windows . In one drift of documents was recorded the number of regiments and their combat effectives - 50,298 listed in fifty Regiments. The recruiting drive (if one could call a near effortless, one time request a 'drive') had been wildly successful. In the first week alone nearly 70,000 men had flooded the Recruiting Offices nation wide, offering their bodies to be soldiers for the cause. Many had to be turned away, for though the people were willing, the weapons manufacturers were less patriotic. They were more than happy to sell their wares, but only at exorbitant prices, unless time was taken to work out a proper deal... and time was something Vinchero did not have at the moment.

The King had managed to scrape together enough arms, ammunition, transport vessels, and equipment to move and run the Infantry at it's current size, but he could not get anymore. His endevors for large equippment had been more successful, and he had purchased thousands of Artillery pieces from old Inorothian Army Stockpiles, 982 "AutoGuns", 400 or so larger "Repeater Artillery", and around three-hundred Mortars of 30mm and 60mm variety. Giuseppe, Royal Engineer,and his assistants had managed to build about ten gun tractors by hand over the past few weeks, and this would be their first combat field test. Vinchero had also managed to buy several (seven, in fact) Titan Class Ironclads from the Rothian Navy, as well as two scout-type Airships donated by patriotic merchants. Old as these craft were, they were greatly appreciated, and could be battle deciders in the conflicts to come, and though more was left to be desired, was enough. An army too big to move overseas in one jaunt would be cumbersome anyways.

Another drift of papers listed finances, but Vinchero did not pay much attention to these. Thousands of letters expressing verbal support were scattered everywhere, and Vinchero had just taken a break from answering them. If the storm of letters did not let up soon, he would have to get an assistant for the sole purpose of answering them. So many inventors trying to get their invention bought, so many politicians congratulating the enterprise, so many private donations, and even a few protests (these mostly coming from Inoroth's small but growing 'Purist Party'). Finally, a stack of important international newspapers was piled up to one side - a snap-shot view of what was happening in other countries today. As Vinchero enjoyed his reprieve, one paper - specifically a headline in the Vitzenburg Times - caught his eye:

"Riots Break Out Over Coalition Force"

Quickly scanning the article, Vinchero was shocked to learn how few troops Kaiseress Morgen was actually intending to send. She was the one who originally called for the Coalition, yet his own commitment was over ten times greater! It seemed that this discrepancy, coupled as it was with apparent instability caused by this 'Vitzenburg First Movement', made Vinchero the unofficial leader of the coalition - a position he did not envy before and most certainly did not desire now. Pondering thepossible implications of his new responsibilities, he continued reading. As he neared the end, one line in particular stood out:

"Our Kaiserness also unveiled the 1st Super Heavy Infantry, a new type of fighting force designed to be an answer to the metal monsters being created by the surrounding nations."

These so called '1st Super Heavy Infantry' were certainly a curiosity to Vinchero. He wondered what one could possibly do to an Infantryman to put him on the same level as these new gun tractors it seemed everyone was pursuing. Whatever they were, Vinchero was certain he would have a chance to inspect them thouroughly on the voyage to Voerdenland. Right now, there were letters to write.

Paleza Royale - Vinchero's Personal Study
Roth, the Eternal City
15th December
4:39 pm

The Army's training was coming along beautifilly, and it seemed a departure could be attempted weeks ahead of schedule. So the concept of having a Militia Semi-Trained civilian force was worth all the money after all. A delighted Vinchero was sorting through communiques from his various regimental commanders offering progress reports. He was also trying to decide the fate of each regiment - whether it would be in the large "Center Division' or in one of the two "Flank Divisions - when a knock resounded from the oak door.

"Come in."

It was his recently-hired personal assistant, holding a letter that seemed no different from any other.

"Sir, you should read this."

"Strange... It must be something of real importance (*sound of paper opening*)"

President James Wayford,
[copies sent to all concerned nations]

I recently had the displeasure of reading a report by one of the investigators I sent to your nation confirming the Mishmahigan allegations of human rights violations and religious persecution. I must sincerely express my deepest condolences for the suffering and loss of life in Pefalls and all across Voerdeland.

In light of this evidence, I am happy to join the nations of Vjiay and Mishmahig officially in recognizing the Republic of Nova Voerda and extending to you a hand in friendship. May the justice and freedom represented by your new nation live on.

Unfortunately, the Kingdom of Fanaglia unfortunately still cannot pledge military support of the New Republic at this time due to several political factors at home. Among others, one such issue is regarding the Vjiayan leg of the Continental Rail; while their unpopular tariffs have been lifted, the cargo permitted on Vjiayan rails is still restricted to non-military only. We shall continue supporting Nova Voerda non-militarily with items such as food, clothing, fresh water, building supplies, and small dirigibles and airship supplies to offset the difficulties inherent in the lack of adequate infrastructure following a major war.

The Kingdom of Fanaglia has also taken this opportunity to officially condemn the Voerdish Free State Provisional Government (VPG).

May the wind be always at your back,
Autumn, Queen of the Kingdom of Fanaglia

Vinchero fell back into his chair for a moment. So, Fanaglia had chosen sides. If he was not careful about how he proceeded, Inorothian-Fanaglian relation could feel a strain that neither could really afford. As if his subconscious was talking, or as though force of habit would not let up even though his conscious was wholly devoted to other matter, Vinchero muttered:

"Yes, thank you very much Danaglio... thank you very much indeed"



Paleza Royale - Central Piazza
Roth, the Eternal City
17th December
11:30 pm (Sharp)

An official review of the newly formed "Central Division" was just commencing. Wave after wave of men paraded by, Regimental flags flying high. Not a dull button or wrinkled crease was to be found on any uniform, not a man out of step or a step out of place. After the nearly 25,000 men marched by, along with their artillery train and baggage carts, several real maneuvers were conducted almost flawlessly. Vinchero had not felt this good in a long time, and this demonstration proved the men were almost ready. Now they only needed a few more practice marches and more target practice before they would march out, their King at the head, and bring peace to Voerdenland, the wayward child. But it seemed as though the conquest might end before it started, as an intelligence officer marched up to the viewing gallery, saluted, and promptly handed a written telegram message received only minutes before:

To the acting leader of the Voerdish Free State Provisional Government:

The Voerdish People have spoken and they desire an end to the violence that has torn their nation and their lives apart. The Congress of the New Republic has consented to your request for talks. The meeting shall take place on 21 December at St. Katharina church in the center of the village of Angelhurst outside of Mewich.

James Wayford,
Interim President of the Republic of Nova Voerda

"Thank you, officer!"

Was all the response Vinchero could muster, though he ensured it sounded grand and commanding. The officer offered a salute, which Vinchero returned, and quickly exited the same way he came. The King, meanwhile, was musing. He truly did want Voerdenland to have peace, and a large part of him was glad that they might arrive to it one their own and peacefully. Yet, this army was his baby, his pet project. To have it's purpose for existence snuffed out with a few pen strokes seemed so petty a trick for fate to play. Ultimately, he decided to go along as planned, and see what came of the peace conference.



Paleza Royale - Vinchero's Personal Study
Roth, the Eternal City
17th December
6:59 pm

"Sir, Servoth has colonized parts of Voerdenland"

The shout startled Vinchero awake. He didn't remember dozing off, yet he could tell immediately by the lighting that he had been out for several hours. The 'Grand Review' as people were calling it, must have worn him out more than he thought. Looking up and out his door, he noticed several lesser bureaucrats rushing to and fro in a frantic state. Danaglio extended a letter towards Vinchero. The King took it and read:

To the Nations of the World and those involved in the area formerly known as Voerdeland-

A new claim to the anarchy of the land of former Voerdeland has been made. Held together as part of the Servothian Federal Empire, it is a new shinning example to the world; not restrained by the lies of democracy, or the horrid inefficieny and expense of communism, or even the hypocracy of theocracy. But instead by solid, unchained capitalism; and the finely tuned Servothian "Federal Imperialism". It should also by note that any attempts by other nations or forces of the world to "liberate", siege, or capture the former city of Luxburg (and/or the surrounding 10 kilometers) now Lux shall be met with an equal and opposite military force. We only strive for peace and prosperity for the people of our glorious State.

the Kaiser of the Greater Federal Empire of Servoth-
Kaiser Heinz Krouss IX

Damn! This could not have happened at a worse time. Servoth and Inoroth were neighbors, and Vinchero could not afford a war at home. Yet, this move by Servoth's Kaiser might be enough to ensure the Voerdish factions stay driven apart... yet another tricky diplomatic situation right when peace was so close!

"Get me my diplomatic advisors, at once!"


Paleza Royale - "Castagno" Meeting Room
Roth, the Eternal City
17th December
8:42 pm

After over two and a half hours of of deliberation, Vinchero finally had made his decision. He would demand Servoth leave the Voerdish territories, in terms strong enough to be persuasive, but not forceful enough to endanger diplomatic relations. Praying over each pen-stroke, he wrote:

Kaiser Heinz Krouss IX, Ruler of the Great Servoth Empire

Greetings from one illustrious leader to another. Our glorious nations have grown to understand each other as the years have passed, and whenever a potential problem has arisen, we have taken steps to be open and work through it. It is in that spirit that I must here plainly disclose my great distain and growing concern regarding your nation's actions in the chaotic crisis in Voerdenland.

We are both Christian Nations, and thus I implore you to ponder upon one of Jesus Christ's own teaching parables, namely, that of the good Samaritan. Now is not the time, dear brother, to to rob our weaker neighbor of things valuable and leave him for dead, as one who did not know better might accuse your nation of, nor to pass him by and leave him nothing but words, as many other nations do, but to run to his aid, bandage his wounds, and as best we can restore him to his former state.

I therefore request that you at least consider joining our coalition, which intends to be Voerdenland's good Samaritan. Your desire to help the lot of the people of Lux is indeed most commendable - it is done in the right heart but with the wrong method. I know Servoth is a good and kind country, and I can only hope I have been able to show your highness a better way to help the Voerdish people.

Sincerely yours,

Victor Emanuel Vinchero I, King of all Inoroth

Paleza Royale - "Castagno" Meeting Room
Roth, the Eternal City
17th December
7:14 am

Two letters sat in Vinchero's lap, both unexpected bombshells from Mishmahig Archpriest Meza:

My people,

As you no doubt know from your classes and education, the history of the Dominion of Mishmahig and the Mishmahigian people have not been pleasant ones. Driven out of the Rothian Empire by endless persecution, we were harried everywhere we went. Our people scattered, our families divided, our future uncertain, we lost more and more as time went by. At last, we resigned ourselves to our fate, and settled across the world, establishing communities within those countries that would accept us, and we forgot our dreams.

This state of affairs would have been sufficient for all of us, to be allowed to practice our beliefs in peace and quiet, the better to grow closer to God and our families. Alas, it is not to be so. Descendants of the Rothian Empire, the former Voerish Free State, have thrown off the mask of civility and shown who they are truly within. Moving quickly, they massacred hundreds of innocent Mishmahigian Christians---our friends and families---killing men, women and children alike, burning them alive in their own place of worship.

This is a brutal act, an ungodly and unholy act, but it is the act of one nation. However, ask yourself---is it really? Remember the beginning, the Flight from Rothia, and how our ancestors were persecuted wherever they went. Look at your neighbors, your coworkers, your friends, and look within yourself. Do you honestly believe that they will leave you in peace? Do you honestly believe that, when it comes time, they will not simply abandon you like the Voerish have? There will come a time, as Henri prophesised, when we will be driven from our homes once more, to repeat to Flight from Rothia. Ask yourselves, my friends, is it not that time? It has begun, and it will not end.

The Dominion of Mishmahig stands ready, a bastion against the wave of persecution that will sweep the world. Our arms, homes, and hearts are open, but they cannot remain that way for long. We encourage you, we ask you, we beg you, for the sake of your people and your families and your faith, to come to us. It is time for us, all of us, to return home.

Mishmahigian soldiers and people stand ready. The evacuation of our persecuted friends and family in Voerdeland is about to begin, and our allies have pledged their aid and support in our just and righteous cause. Let us carry out the word of God, my friends, and band together against the Dark Times that are sure to come.

It is time for us to return home.

Archpriest Meza
Co-signed by every member of the House of Penitants

And this one, which had arrived right on the first's heels:

King Vinchero, King of All Inoroth,

I thank you most humbly and gratefully for your kind words in these dark times. Truly, such unfortunate and grievous actions should never have occurred, and the people are suffering for it. It is most pleasing and gratifying to know that the Inorothian government and people stand with us in our time of need, always able and willing to lend a helping hand. Truly, such service and generosity is a hallmark of your country.

It is with that in mind that I write you this day, King Vinchero. In your communique, you pledged the help and aid of Inoroth in any way, shape or form, regardless of expense, hardship, or cost. The time has come for Inoroth to honor that promise and pledge.

As I am sure you are now aware, the Dominion of Mishmahig is currently beginning an evacuation of all Mishmahigian Christians within the former Voerish Free State. Given the extensive suffering and persecution they have undergone, it is likely that a sizable percentage, if not a majority, will choose to return to the Dominion of Mishmahig. The brave and hardworking people of our nations will do everything they can, but considering the relevant populations of the country in question, such an evacuation would take time. We therefore humbly ask the great nation of Inoroth to open the Amplectorian Railroad to the Mishmahigian refugees, and escort them along the path until they arrive. With your help, thousands of people, if not dozens of thousands, can be saved.

I ask you, in the name of God and Man, and all that is good and right in this world, to help in this mighty task. We cannot make you do this, nor can we do it ourselves. Instead, we must cast ourselves on your mercy, and hope that you are truly the good and just man we have always viewed you as.

Yours in God,
Archpriest Meza

The evacuation of all Mishmahig Christians, nearly 2 million in Inoroth alone, was a near inconceivable undertaking. Yet, that was not why Vinchero what bothered Vinchero, who was barely holding back tears. What saddened him was the fact that the Mishmahig Archpriest felt the only way to protect his people was to evacuate them - not just from 'danger areas', but from every nation - regardless of any other factor... or was it that deep inside Vinchero knew the man was quite probably right. With a heavy heart, he responded personally to the letters, intending to send copies to all Amplectorian Nations:

To the Archpriest Meza (and the members of the House of Penitents),

Greetings. I do not conceal that I am saddened, both by the fact that you feel your only method of protecting your people is by removing them, and also because of the fact that you are most probably correct. Although Inoroth is and has been a nation where freedom to worship God in any way is guaranteed, events in even the 'most civilized' nations give credence to your concerns. Inoroth has not, is not, and never intends to restrict people's freedom of worship, but I fear that this may ring as empty words in your ears.

So, I shall prove to you my sincerity... I vowed before and I vow again now to do whatever possible to aid your people, even if they must return home. We will begin with our own exodus, and any wishing to Leave Inoroth may go, any wishing to stay may stay. We shall force them to do neither. Any Mishmahig Christians passing along the Amplector Internation Rail Line shall have the right to freely pass through Inoroth, and may request Inorothian Documentation if they wish. If there are any other specific requests regarding this exodus, I trust you will not hesitate to make it known to us.

In closing, may God richly bless you and your people from the abundance of his grace. Your people should be proud to have a leader such as you, and I know you have their best interests at heart.

Most Sincerely Your Christian Brother,

Victor Emanuel Vinchero, King of all Inoroth

Pier 16, South Eastern Docks
Roth, the Eternal City
20th December
5:46 am

Icy winds blasted the lone figure at the end of the dock. Behind him - the metropolis of the Eternal City. To his left and right - massive transport vessels at their berths, just waiting to be filled. Before him - the open sea, the rose colored pricks of light that signaled a new day just beginning to poke through. He simply stood there, ignoring the freezing temperatures. This man was Inoroth's King, inspecting the transports that would move his men and their equipment to Voerdenland. In less than 36 hours, they would be full and on their way.


50 miles from Inorothian Coast
Favonian Gulf
22nd December
5:46 am

Vinchero's task-force was finally underway, and he was thrilled to the core. Aboard the I.S.V. Dominion, the fleet flagship, Vinchero could see all of the other six Titan Class ships - the Resolute, the Dauntless, the Adamant, the Relentless, the Valiant, and the Intrepid - as well as the many transport vessels ladened with troops. They would make it to the international waters just outside the city of Vessels by midday the 23rd, if all went according to plan. Onboard his ships, Vinchero did not even know of the violence in Vitzenburg, where in the city of Burgand nearly 2,000 Mish Christians had been injured or killed. He was blissfully ignorant of such goings on.

[Vitzenburg]

Pier 192, Vessels Municipal Dockyards
Vessels, Vitzenburg
23rd of December
14:46 Local Time


A light dusting of snow had fallen as the Vitzburgian troops lined up in formation to await the arrival of the Inorothian force. A patrol had sighted them and called it in. By now, Kaiserness Morgen I could see their ships growing in the horizon from her motorcars heated compartment. A missive from King Vinchero proclaimed he wanted to meet with her in person about the finer details of the operation, so here she was. The pier was oddly bereft of movement, the dock workers either participating in the protest that could be heard from a few blocks away, or were to scared to work. The Vitzenburg First movement was gaining a bloody reputation of assaulting those who crossed their picket lines. Morgen hadn't chanced this occasion though and half of her elite guard helping the police with the cordons. She turned her head towards the sound of metallic clanking on flagstone and saw the 1st Super Heavy Infantry rounding a corner. Their captain had the idea to scare some civility into the protesters by having the hulks march past the cordons. They too settled in beside the rest of the force to wait for the Inorothians to dock, whose boats were now just entering the harbor.

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Christmastime, December 22th-23rd, 11:55
Onheath, Voerdeland.

The residents of Onheath had insofar remained neutral in the Civil War. However that was about to change. While they gaily celebrated in the streets below, the recently formed Inesean Voerdeland Expeditionary Aeroflot hovered a mile overhead. They were hidden from view by a mild fog and low cloud cover. The Aeroflot consisted of 52 Combat FTCs, 25 Transport Dirigibles, and 5 supply dirigibles. Inside the Transport Dirigibles, a total of 4,250 Airborne Rangers, fitted with wing suits and parachutes, made ready to deploy.

Inside Transport Dirigible 13, T-5 minutes.
Captain Walker stood up and faced his men. "Today, men, we shall avenge the cowardly attack upon our brethren. It is only to my sadness that i must serve with such great men as you. For if I shall fall, I will have to walk to the gates of Heaven while the Angels carry you." Then a Private piped up, "Nah Captain, where you are going, it is all downhill from here."

At the stoke of the 12th Christmas bell below, the Transport Dirigibles's drop hatches opened, and out came 170 bat-like shapes from each. Angling towards the entrances to the town, the Airborne Rangers rapidly descended. Pulling their shoots when they felt ready, all Rangers made it down without casualty.

[Pavlostani]

Pavlostan, Khamul
Airships flew overhead. Snipers gazed down looking for anybody threatening the Dictator. Three hours ago, Pavel had declared a state of Civil War. The infiltrators were far more numerous than they had thought. No breakthroughs had been made on the mysterious X, who sent the message to Pavel warning of the uprising. "Pavel, the Kijo province is attempting to secede." Milanvanzi told Pavel. "Damn. What forces are in Kijo?" Pavel asked. "The Fourth Legion." Milanvanzi said. "Tell them everything is hostile. Burn the towns, and sow the ground with salt" Pavel said vehemently.
Southern Voerdeland
"Don't be afraid." Clemens said warmly, holding his hand out to the Voerish farmer. The terrified farmer and his family looked at the armed men. None of them spoke. Bates and the others loaded their rifles. "Fire." Bates said without emotion. One less Voerish family in the world. "Duck!" Wheaton suddenly screeched. They dove into the house as a Khamulan Airship flew overhead. "Damn..." Buckley sighed.

[Servoth]

To Victor Emanuel Vinchero I, King of all Inoroth-


Must I explain further? If I was not clear in previous communications to the world, then please tell me out right. If so then I must improve upon my detailation in my communiques. But as a world leader I must move onwards as I begin to ramble after some time in my writing.

It has come to my attention that several (infact many now) nations have disliked my military and civilian forces "occupying" the city of Lux. But why I have to ask myself? Why do they (and you, don't lie to yourself) complain and nag me over the Servothian existance in the former Voerdish city? Is it that they want my holding for their own? I am finding this so, foreign imperialism is so different from the meaning of my own brand. It seems that nations do not understand that "Federal Imperialism" is simply a more expansive version of a federal monarchy. Excuse me if I say so, they seem stupid to me.

Sorry if I ramble, but onwards with this letter. I am not taking away the rights of the people of Lux, stop pestering me. I am not taking away the basic human rights of anyone, the State's constitution and laws prevent me from doing so, I am not hurting or harming anyone. So I will not remove my forces from former Voerdeland, If I did then all the work done to the city would be left unfinished. The Luxians would surely die and die in poverty and ruble.

Thank you for your time-
Kaiser Heinz Krouss IX, Kaiser of the Greater Federal Empire of Servoth

To the Nations of the World and those involved in the area formerly known as Voerdeland-

I now understand that there has been some confusion as to my forces presence in the city of Lux. Let me, the Kaiser of Servoth, explain somethings to you.

Clarification one- "Federal Imperialims", A federal imperialist State is a federation of states with a single (imperial) monarch as over-all head of the federation, but retaining different monarchs, or a non-monarchical system of government, in the various states joined to the federation. This government style may also include a constitution making it a Federal Constitutional Empire.

Hopefully, this will help some of the world's nations understand that in no way I am trying to harm the people of Lux, nor am I trying to take away their basic human rights. For a future reference, please understand that the State of Servoth only wishes to have single city and the surrounding 10 kilometers out of a very expansive area, most of which has already been claimed by other nations or governments who have far larger land claims and holdings.

Clarification two- You all are annoying. Excuse me if I am being frank, but you all are as world leaders, you pester me over how you think the world should be run. Do you consider my position, or my culture, or my policies, or my ideologies? NO. Perhaps you all should considered the othersides actions and thoughts before you make accusations.

Clarification Three- No I have not had anyone killed in the city, nor did I have my forces kill anyone in Voerdeland. There are no record of Bürgermeister Jekyl Franx having ordered the death or exucution of anyone before, after, or during his time in Lux. Nor will he do so as of currently it is unconstitutional for a Servothian official to do so.

If that is all, then I am done speaking.

Thank you for your time-
Kaiser Heinz Krouss IX, Kaiser of the Greater Federal Empire of Servoth

[Dalruanazkal]

Kudurri-lli, Dalruanazkal
December 23, 1890

23rd December, 1890

Quarter-Denarius

Kudurri-lli Times

Gamabu Zuhamma pledges aid to Voerdeland

Earlier today Gamabu Zuhamma, factory owner and wealthy investor, announced he was sending food, blankets, and other supplies to the needy and displaced in Voerdeland. He unveiled a train loaded with aid at the Kudurri-lli Station at 1 p.m. A spokeman said "Mr. Zuhamma thought this was a primer opportunity to show his generosity and humanity that he feels not many see. He is also compelled by his devotion to the teachings of Kazamekism to give alms and charity to those who need it." That was the only statement provided, despite the barrage of the questions that were hurled by journalists. Enemies and opponents of Mr. Zuhamma attest that he is merely trying to improve his public image after hired thugs beat strikers calling for a 14-hour work-day in his cigar factories. Mr. Zuhamma has long stated that he has wanted to improve the local and global....

"Be very careful with those boxes. They're wroth more than the rest of this train." said Gamabu Zuhamma. Working covertly in the train depot, Zuhamma supervised the loading of the pieces of the Nibiru coil onto the train bound for Voerdeland. The same men who loaded the train were military officers who were selected to set up and operate the coil in the war zone, dressed in civilian winter clothing. They had spent the last few days familiarizing themselves with its basic operation and construction.
"Do you think it'll past Vjiay Customs?" asked one of the men carrying a box.
"Of course, they have no idea these pieces assembled are a war machine. Separated, you can say it's part of a heater and they'll be none the wiser. Besides, they would have to have an electrical engineer with them to figure that out and they won't. Now finish loading, we need it in Veordeland as soon as possible."

[Gratia Infinita]

Saint Katharina, Angelhurst. 8:15 AM December 21st, 1890

The representatives of the VPG stood to greet their counterparts. Each was keenly aware of the importance of these negotiations, and watched their words and gestures carefully. After names had been exchanged, they all sat on around the great circular table. President Melhurst remained standing, holding a rolled-up parchment. He waited until everyone was settled and every eye was on him.

"Gentlemen." His voice was wry, sharp with real regret, "This time last year we were a country. Much has transpired in the intervening months. But now the wolves of the world are coming down upon us, and if the Voerdish people are to retain any of their hallowed freedoms, and their ancient lands, which are their birthright, we must come together today. Today. And this is why."

He flung the map open, the heavy parchment rolling out to cover most of the tabletop. The high-quality parchment showed the former borders of Voerdeland. Superimposed on the map was a patchwork of territorial claims all nicely matched to their corresponding nation's flag.

"As I said, the wolves of the world are coming. Servoth. Vijay. Cyprum Xecuii. Inesea. Incidentally, gentlemen, Gratian intelligence officers informed myself and the Senate this morning that Inesea has mobilized their airforce." He waited for the significance of that fact to sink in. "We cannot weather this assault if we stand alone, even if we are not fighting each other. The forces of the VPG already abide be cease-fire, except for basic policing functions within the territory we still control. But the forces of the VPG, even disengaged from civil war, have no chance against this hurricane from the West. We must be united, as Voerdish, or we will no longer be Voerdish."

Chambers of the Concilium, Mariana, Gratia Infinita

..."for Thine is the Kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen."
"Amen." The whispered word echoed through the chamber, picked up and amplified by the stone wall.
Magister Marcus was the first to speak.
"The Mishmahigan unbelievers have been encouraged to leave, if they are able. There are less than ten thousand in the country, and there is no particular animosity towards them, or at least, not enough that the people care to express it. Not after the incident in Providence Square."
Mgister Caius Pontificus smiled briefly at that memory. An anti-Mishmahigan pogrom, fueled doubtless by frustration over the edict and the normal and healthy uneasiness around heretics, had begun in Providence Square. It had been quickly stomped out, and everyone involved imprisoned very unpleasantly.
"Servoth refuses. Contingent upon the success of the peace-talks, we will move to bomb as many of their military installations as we can in the region without incurring collateral damage. Our operatives in Lux are also ready to 'soften' their lines of communication in preparation for a frontal assault, and of course, the Knights."
Now Marcus himself smiled. He himself had been behind the transitions that allowed the Knights to function as an air-borne strike force, as well as as dragoons. Shorter swords, carbines, and some things that were completely classified. Even to the other Magisterii. Other nations build weapons he thought proudly, we build men. He continued talking, the others ignorant of the internal dialogue.
"As things stand, we have air superiority over the central and Northern reaches of the country. We have enough vessels in the region to counter any air force that invaders could send, without compromising their own security. Especially if they provoke a war with us. Things are a little less certain on the ground. Either way, I am confident that we can take Lux if the Republic agrees to work with the VPG."

"Meanwhile everyone and everyone's uncle wants a piece of Voerdeland. We will find ourselves at war with half the world if we do not cooperate with someone." Caius said wryly, his handsome aristocratic face wrinkling in disdain at the situation. "Even the Rothians are sending troops. Not officially, but their King goes with them. Fanaglia, has, by the way, condemned the legitimate government."

Three hours of wrangling, prayer, and heated debate later, the Concilium drafted a letter:

Concilium Magisterorum Gratiae Infinitae,
To: The members of the Coalition of Peacekeepers; copies sent to all heads of state

It is a universally recognized principle that only those governments established by the people of the nation that the aforementioned governments rule have legitimate authority. This is right. This is just. By their invasion of Voerdeland and their imposition of foreign rule upon a freedom-loving people, Cyprum Xecuii and the Federated Empire of Servoth have demonstrated their contempt for this principle, and for the freedom of the Voerdish people. If such violations can occur in Voerdeland, a once free and prosperous nation, then what securities remain for the other nations of the earth, save in the strength of their armies?
Therefore the Concilium urges that all nations concerned with the welfare of the Voerdish people, and the preservation of national sovereignty across the earth move to condemn Servoth and Cyprum Xecuii for their actions, and prepare to back words with deeds. God have mercy on us all.

[Inoroth]

Pier 192, Vessels Municipal Dockyards
Vessels, Vitzenburg
23rd of December
3:15 pm

Although the sun shone brightly, very little heat accompanied the light. The mood was one of eager anticipation. It was the first time many had been out of the country, and the new sights that beckoned were almost irresistible. Aboard the flagship I.S.V. Dominion, Vinchero peered toward the Vitzenburg coast. Once they rounded the next jut of land, the great city of Vessels would be spread before them. It was said to be one of the most beautiful costal cities in all of Amplector - a sight sailors never forget and often reminisce about. At last! And what a view it was. But for most of the men, this was as close as they would ever see it.

The rest of the flotilla remained in International Waters, while the I.S.V. Dominion steamed ahead. Vinchero insisted on this, wanting to ensure that all proper rules of the sea were followed. The last thing he wanted to do was to seemingly ride rough-shod over the sovereignty rights of Vitzenburg - especially if there were already troublesome protesters already claiming the expedition was a sign of inferiority. The Dominion signaled that she requested permission to enter harbor.

[Vitzenburg]

Pier 192, Vessels Municipal Dockyards
Vessels, Vitzenburg
23rd of December
15:20 Local Time

The permission signal was given to the Dominion, patrol craft allowing it to glide into the harbor to dock. The Vitzburgian troops stood at attention as it pulled in, the super heavy's motionless. Kaiserness Morgen I stepping out of the motorcar and pulling her coat tight to help insulate against the cold. Her entourage of military leaders stood behind her as they waited for the Dominion to dock fully. Morgen took some deep breathes, the first time meeting the leader of Inoroth was not something to be taken lightly. She straightened herself and watched the ship dock.

[Mishmahig]

Port of Medale, Nova Voerda
December 18th, 1890
Mishmahigian Evacuation Fleet

In the predawn light, the normally quiet city buzzed with excitement and movement as thousands of people hurried through the streets, their feet packing down the morning snow into rock-hard paths, heading for the port and the ships that rocked gently there. This was the city of Medale, one of the major ports in Voerdeland, and one of the few ports that could hold the massive ships of the Mishmahigian Evacuation Fleet, as well as the escorting military vessels.

When the two fleets had coalesced into one in the Levidius Sea, they had made their slow way to the north, sailing directly into the seaport and tying up at the docks. Flying the flag of the Dominion of Mishmahig, they disgorged thousands of soldiers on the docks, soldiers who rapidly formed up and began dispersing through the streets, broadcast Archpriest Meza's message, which rapidly spread throughout the city and began to trickle into the country beyond.

The response was instantaneous and overwhelming as thousands of Mishmahigian Christians began to pour into the city from miles away, desperate to escape the ongoing civil war and the encroaching foreign troops. Walking along roads in massive lines that stretched for miles, they streamed through countryside, a massive river of refugees steadily strengthened as smaller communities joined along the way. Entering the city, they began to clamor as the front-runners saw the smokestacks of the ships, and could make out the Mishmahigian flag snapping crisply in the cold breeze. Reinvigorated by the sight before them, they summoned up their last burst of energy and hurried through the streets of the city, guided and directed by smiling Mishmahigian soldiers.

That had been two days ago. For those days, the docks had boiled with movement as thousands of people hurried to and fro, with massive queues formed in front of every ship, and tents sprung up like mushrooms after a rain. Gradually the queues grew smaller as the people were documented and escorted aboard, herded like sheep to and fro. The cramped but not uncomfortable quarters seemed like bliss after the war-torn countryside, as the food stores were opened, with hot meals and blankets distributed by the crew. Slowly, one by one, the great ships were filled up, smoke belching from their smokestacks as they pulled away from the harbor to make the journey back to Mishmahig.

Amid all the bustle and movement, no one noticed a midshipman hurrying through the crowd, squeezing and shoving as he made his way to the temporary army headquarters. Bursting through the last few rows of refugees, he hurried past the stationed guards, saluting hastily as he went. Passing by the officers and sargeants that swarmed around the office, giving and carrying out orders, he marched up to the commandant, saluted, and handed him a closed manila packet. "New orders for you, Commander, from Frontier Headquarters."

"More orders, eh?" the Commandant replied, raising an eyebrow. "Very well then, Midshipman. Job done, you may go now."

As the midshipman hurried off to his other duties, the Commandant turned to face the wall, tearing the envelope open crisply with an ornate letter opener. Extracting two sheets of paper, he perused them intently for many minutes, his eyes flickering to and fro. Straightening, he stared ahead, his eyes looking into the distance, before turning at last to his subordinates. "It's time to move."

Outskirts of Angelhurst
The Republic of Nova Voerda
December 21st, 1890
10:00 Local Time

Their boots crunched through the snow as their breath fogged the air. Moving in near lockstep formation, the Mishmahigian troops gazed steadfastedly forward, their eyes darting quickly from side to side as they passed by the first outlying huts and houses that surrounded the small town. Their rifles slapping against their back, they plowed through the snow, hunched slightly against the cold that bit at their skin.

They had come from the port city of Medale, almost a thousand miles distant. Fortunately, they had managed to ride the majority of the way to Beaufort before the track ended, the ties destroyed by an unknown battle or skirmish in the war. Piling out of the train cars, they had formed up and begun a long hard slog to the other side of the tracks, over fifteen miles distant. Marching through the snow in the middle of the night had been draining and exhausting as men began to fall like flies, frostbitten fingers clutching their coats closer to their bodies for warmth. Still, they marched, and God had answered their unspoken prayers as they came across the railroad tracks on the other side of the ravaged section. Commandeering another train, they had ridden in relevative comfort almost all the way to Mewich.

Disembarking in the middle of the night, they once again began the march towards Angelhurst, their commander pausing every so often to consult hastily drawn maps, going by ruined landmarks and villages along the way. Snow began to collect once more in their clothes, and a tinge of blue crept back into their extremeties before they glimpsed the tall spire of St. Katharina's, the famous church of Angelhurst. Moving with a burst of energy, they redoubled their efforts, entering the outskirts only a few hours after the meeting began.

Raising a clenched fist, the commander brought the column to a stumbling halt at the sight of the Republican soldiers that patrolled the village. For a minute, no one talked, their ragged breaths fogging the air like smoke in front of them. Moving forward a few paces, the commander called out to the soldiers. "You, there! I am Subcommander Lanigan of the Mishmahigian Evacuation Guard, second in command of all Mishmahigian forces in Voerdeland, and duly appointed representative of Archpriest Meza to the Republic of Nova Voerda!"

"I possess a message," he said, tapping his breast pocket with a gloved hand, "from Archpriest Meza to both the Republic of Nova Voerda and the Voerish Free State, concerning the fate of all Voerdeland. I urge you to pass this message to your commanders, and allow me, as well as my troops, safe passage and boarding in the village."

He paused, his breath fogging the air, ice crystals coating his luxurious mustache, as he waited for the Republican forces to respond.

---------------------------------------------------------

Kaiserness Morgen I

The actions of your people have been met with horror and dismay throughout Mishmahig, with many pointing to this event as further justification for the immediate evacuation of all Mishmahigian Christians throughout the world. There have been calls in the House of Penitants for an immediate condemnation of the actions of Vitzenburg, as well as economic and diplomatic penalties.

Such a reaction, however, is anathema to the relationship that our two nations have developed over the time, and I have attempted to dissuade those who seek such a result. Unfortunately, with persecution being reported around the world, certain Penitants have decided to take a strong line with Vitzenburg, in the hopes of dissuading any future incidents in other nations. While a relatively small minority, they are a very vocal minority, and their words are very persuasive to many other groups in the House of Penitants.

I seek to defend our relationship, Kaiserness, but I have precious little to offer the Penitants, other than our long diplomatic history. All is not lost, however, for many within the group have indicated that they would be satisfied if the government of Vitzenburg, yourself included, saw fit to instead actively encourage the Exodus. Such an action would be viewed most favorably in the House, and I would most likely even be able to raise the possibility of economic concessions, the better to smooth over any wounds on either side.

Although it is your decision, and your decision alone, I highly suggest that such actions be taken immediately, and the incident resolved as soon as possible. The alternatives are damaging to both of us, and do nothing to soothe the emotions surrounding the incident, which are already running high.

Yours in Christ,
Archpriest Meza

King Vinchero, Ruler of all Inoroth

These are perilous times for our faith, it is true, when many seek to actively discourage or attack our adherents. Those who we had viewed as friends and allies have turned on us, their smiling faces transformed into caricatures, creatures of violence and anger. It is therefore with delight that we greet your message, and applaud your actions and views. Truly, Inoroth has always been a friend of the Dominion of Mishmahig, and we devoutly hope that our relationship will only deepen and strengthen over time.

Your generosity and kindness with regards to the Exodus have been commended by both the citizens of Mishmahig and the members of the House of Penitants, and I must add my heartfelt thanks to their chorus of praise. Should the Kingdom of Inoroth ever find itself in need of aid, you need not look far, for we shall always stand by your side.

May our friendship never falter.

Yours in Christ,
Archpriest Meza

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

The residents of Onheath woke to a very strange sight. Inesean FTCs slowly glided overhead as the Rangers patrolled the street. Onheath was not taken without casualties, however that number was very small, only 200. Most occurred when the local militia tried to fight it out in their garrison. But 500 ill trained men, scattered throughout a city of many miles, stood no chance against the elite strike force of Inesea. After capturing the gates, the Rangers proceeded inwards, towards City-Hall. That was around 1 am. Now the sun had come up, and hung over citizens were systematically awoken by Rangers, ordering them to the central plaza. A few residents tried to resist, but, alas, were subdued by the Rangers.

After the final residents were herded into the plaza, with half the Rangers on the perimeter keeping them in, a salvo was fired from a small field piece. The resonating boom quieted the crowd. In front of the City Hall, Governor-General Hondo, stepped up to a podium with a bullhorn. Taking a breath, he began.

"Residents of Onheath, as of 0300 Local Time, Onheath has been absorbed into the Former Aristocratic States of Inesea as a mandate. What this implies is that Onheath shall be under the control of the People's Council for the space of 5 years, after which General Elections will occur to decide if Onheath will remain part of Inesea, or become a Sovereignty. Your laws and customs will not be changed, except if they are in due violation of Human Rights. As of now, and until Onheath is secure, As Governor-General I am declaring martial Law. You shall disperse to your homes. That is all."

Telegraph post, Provisional Onheath Command

Hondo walked up to the operator and handed him a slip. To him, he said "Send it. Send it now."

To People's Council

Operation Vengeance: Phase One is complete. Begin Phase Two. Send in 1st and 2nd Armored Divisions.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To all the Nations of the World
From: High Aristocra Formbi
On this day The Former Aristocratic States of Inesea has absorbed the city of Onheath and a 10 mile radius as a mandate. Any and all hostile attempts to enter the mandate will be met with force.

[Inoroth]

Pier 192, Vessels Municipal Dockyards
Vessels, Vitzenburg
23rd of December
3:31 pm

A permission signal was returned to the Dominion, and harbor patrol craft escorted her into harbor. As she drew closer to the dock, Vinchero could make out what was on the pier clearer and clearer. He first noticed the ice and snow that had encrusted itself against the pier - giving the entire scene a picturesquely somber appearance. Adding to the sober, almost funeral-like atmosphere were the many Vitzburgian troops standing at attention. Vinchero noticed a person, appearances suggested a woman of importance, step delicately from a parked motorcar, accompanied by an group of distinguished looking military men. But what really caught and held his gaze were what could only be the 'Super Heavy Soldiers'. They stood motionless, their hulking armor glinting in the sun. He would get a better look at them once he disembarked.

[Vitzenburg]

Pier 192, Vessels Municipal Dockyards
Vessels, Vitzenburg
23rd of December
15:40 Local Time

The Kaiserness Morgen I stepped forward to meet Vinchero at the gangplank. Her honor guard, whom had formed up behind her and her entourage as they walked towards the gangplank, saluted the king with the Vitzburgian Aquila. The Kaiserness greeted King Vinchero in the proper manner.

"It is good to see there are some in this world who do not care for tyrants parading on the weak." She said quickly as she fell into step beside Vinchero, herding him towards the motorcar. When Vinchero turned his head to get a closer look at the super heavy infantry, he could make out the Vitzburgian Aguila in gleaming brass upon matte grey steel. Before he could make out any of the finer details, a guard stepped between Vinchero and the troops, blocking his view of the super heavy infantry. The dull roar of the protesting crowd could be heard blocks away as Morgen and Vinchero stepped into the motorcar to get away from the cold for their impromptu meeting.

[Pavlostani]

Auren, Voerdeland
"Alright boys, this is our last chance to get Admiral Yales." Bates told the others. "We should have gotten him the first time." Buckley snarled. Clemens said nothing, and went to the telegraph machine.

Code: Select all

From X to Khamul
The Khamul terrorists in Voerdeland are about to hit Auren. They plan to assassinate Admiral Yales, a major insurrectionist leader. I don't know what I can do to stop them. I will not disclose my identity, for safety reasons. Plan air patrols of Auren ASAP, and make sure you get them. I will be with them there.

He typed, and hit send, not noticing Wheaton spying in the corner.

"Right, a toast to our victory, and the death of Admiral Yales!" Bates cried, and they lifted their bottles of ale. Buckley noticed that the ale had gotten a bit salty, this long near the Levidius Sea. "We're going to have to get more ale soon." He observed, never one to go without drink. Clemens and Wheaton both enjoyed their drink thoroughly though. "And now, to make sure we have no objections on the mission..." Bates said, turning to Clemens. His throat tightened up. He'd been caught. "Wheaton saw that telegram you sent to Pavel. A bit squeamish?" Bates asked. Clemens couldn't speak. He shook his head. "No, just thought..." He croaked. "Let me guess. You're a KIF, (Khamul Intelligence Force), sent to inform Pavel of our actions." Bates said. "Pavel... doesn't know..." Clemens said. He suddenly realized that his throat was on fire. "Bastard!" He yelped. Clemens was deathly allergic to peanuts. Bates must have spiked the ale. "Enjoy the afterlife Ben." Buckley laughed. "You guys..." He gasped. "Are assholes." He keeled over, gasping loudly. Wheaton pulled out his pistol. "No." Bates said. "Let him feel the pain." They watched with horrid fascination for three more hours while Private Ben Clemens suffocated and died.

[Gratia Infinita]

Brayburg Militia Headquarters, Voerdeland,

December 23rd, 1890: 2:00 AM

The barracks were relatively quiet. Except for the regularly scheduled patrols on their circuits, nothing stirred. Which was why it was the perfect time for Lieutenant Anselm to finish tidying up the personnel reports in preparation to sending them to Pefalls. The order had gone out from the Provisional Government that all loyal militias report the number of combat effectives, armament, and readiness levels. And that meant paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Anselm leaned back and yawned cavernously, rubbing his bleary eyes with the backs of his hands. The kerosene lamp was bright enough to minimize eyestrain, but the letters on the roster still swam before his eyes. He should probably turn in and complete the roster in the morning, as it was the least important part...

The frenzied knocking on the door shattered Anselm's dreary vigil. He jumped to his feet, the chair clattering to the floor, hand on the grips of his revolver. No one should be barging into the HQ this late. Then again, he realized, an assassin or a group of revolutionaries would hardly knock before breaking through the door. His hand relaxed, and he glanced through the viewing slit. The man wore a Voerdish uniform, mud-spattered. He was unshaven and his face wrinkled with weariness. Anselm spoke through the grate.

"State your name and rank and purpose."

"Corporal Piotr Macawnald. Carrying urgent news to the commander of the garrison."

"The captain is asleep. Come in."

The door swung open silently on well oiled hinges. The Brayburg militia prided itself on keeping their property and gear in excellent working order. The man entered, lamplight heliographing off the cartridges in his bandolier. Some of them were missing, suggesting at least one hurried reload of the filthy carbine that was slung at his back. They exchanged salutes, and Anselm cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Sir, I come from the militia of Hamberden, about forty K's away. We've been overrun by Xecuiians. Regular army. They've got tanks and artillery and the whole caboodle."

Anselm's face blanched. An invasion. He gulped visibly and nodded. "Well done escaping. Get some rest. We might need you tomorrow."

"Yessir."

Anselm personally went in to wake Captain Kittridge. As soon as he came fully awake and grasped the situation, he telegraphed a terse message to Pefalls. Gratian airships were in the region, and would arrive before 9'oclock the following morning. The reply was simply

'Hold the town. STOP. Help is on the way. STOP. Stand for the people of Voerdeland. STOP.'

The garrison labored through the night to reinforce the barricades in the streets. Many civilians joined in, despite the late hours and short notice, some shouldering rifles themselves. By dawn, every street was barricaded, noncombatants were sheltering in basements and bunkers, and every window bristled with rifles. Anselm glanced at the roster on the desk as he buckled into his gunbelt.

Militia Combatants: 850
Artillery (75 mm field guns) 18
Town effectives (volunteer defense forces) 1,200

God help us he thought, then turned to man his post.