The Pivot (Aurora/Cornellia ONLY)

[Norvenia]

Monarch-class Nuclear Guided-Missile Battleship CNS Equity
Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group, Norvenian New Model Army
Southern Afrosian Sea, Rough Weather

Jaw still clenched with silent fury, Lieutenant Commander Cara Brown turned. “Sir, Hawkeyes and networked OTH are showing that the New Edomites just launched a lot of fighters. Looks like they just boosted their CAP.”

Nehemiah Wright nodded slowly. “Damn,” he said quietly, “this bastard has balls, I’ll give him that.” Lucy Okongo’s fists clenched; God damn these fools and their pride. In his folding chair, Wright extended his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “What kind of fighters, and how many?”

“We can see at least a couple dozen Sparrowhawks. There are liable to be some stealth fighters mixed in that we can’t pick up at this range.”

“So he raised the CAP. He’s expecting us to hit him.” Wright nodded again. “Are they headed this way?”

“No,” Brown replied. “But – “

“We’re receiving a lot more radiation all of a sudden.” That was Lieutenant Commander Alex Hawkins, the officer in charge of the Group’s networked ESM and ECM systems. “Computer analysis says that many of these are targeting radars. They’re scanning us for profiles for missile guidance.”

“We’re being targeted.” Wright’s inflection made his remark a question only in the most perfunctory sense.

“Yes, sir,” Hawkins confirmed.

“Well, shit,” Nehemiah Wright announced succinctly. “All right. Commander Knox, get our weapons targeted right back at them and set the fleet up for full-spectrum defense. If worst comes to worst, we are going to get a lot of fighters swarming our asses, and without aircraft of our own, we’re going to need to be able to swat a whole hell of a lot of missiles out of the sky.” Wright slapped the arm of his chair. “So let’s circle the wagons, people. Commander Brown, get me networked radar coverage of every inch of sky in a hundred-kilometer radius. I want to see every goddamn seagull. Commander Hawkins, get ready to feed those Edomite radars all the interference and misinformation we’ve got. Commander Knox, get our weapons ready to hit every radar signature that gets within a hundred klicks of us. Outnumbered and outgunned we may be; outclassed we are not. Are we clear, people?”

A chorus of “Sir!” echoed around the bridge. This was what Norvenian naval forces did: they used the immense power of networked sensor systems and computer-controlled weapons systems to create a bubble around them, in which any enemy aircraft or munitions would be spotted and destroyed as soon as it appeared. It had worked like military magic at Bratvit Bay. No one had any reason to believe that the practice of full-spectrum defense would be any less powerful now, if worst came to worst.

“Lieutenant Okongo!” The communications officer looked up, startled. Admiral Wright raised a bushy grey eyebrow. “Glad to see that I have your attention, Lieutenant. Get me a line to AFROCOM at Port Wessex. If I’m about to fight the first battle of a world war, I’d at least like to tell someone first.”

Okongo nodded silently, and her hands flew over her terminal; then she paused, and glanced meaningfully at the shattered headset that lay at the base of the CIC door. “Do you need another comms headset, Admiral?”

Wright looked at Okongo, then at the door, then at Okongo again. “Careful, Lieutenant,” he hissed.

“Yes, sir,” the communications officer replied, expressionless. And she handed Wright a spare headset.

* * *

Vampier-class Nuclear Hunter-Killer Submarine CNS Glimmer
Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group, Norvenian New Model Army
Southern Afrosian Sea, Rough Weather

Most modern torpedoes had a maximum speed of between forty and sixty knots; the very fastest, like the Spearfish and Charybdis, could make eighty knots. Assuming that the torpedoes launched by the Elijah were in the latter category, they would cover the four hundred meters between the two submarines in slightly under ten seconds.

It wasn’t a lot of time. It was enough.

Mary Lariston sat stiff as a board at her station, hands clasping her headset to her ears. She looked at her display screen, and gave a single nod of understanding. “They’ve launched,” the passive sonar officer announced simply. “I can hear the torps in the water.”

Scott Burleigh nodded in his turn. God forgive me. He pointed to Rob Crawford. “Lieutenant, fire all tubes.” The captain raised his voice to address the conn as a whole. “Ladies and gentlemen: launch decoys, give me a bearing at two-oh-five degrees, start the reactor pumps, bring us to top speed.” The Glimmer was already at its maximum depth of seven hundred meters; now, it was going to run like hell. “Let’s go, people!”

The hymn singing abruptly stopped as the crew bent to their tasks. It was a whiplash mood change, but these were Norvenian sailors: professionals. They used the few remaining seconds well: in ten seconds, the Glimmer fired its six torpedoes, launched three decoys in three different directions, and accelerated to the southwest through the crushing, pitch-black depths. There was a chance – a slim chance, but still a chance – that the combination of depth, the Glimmer’s inherent stealth, the random course alteration, and the sonar decoys would let the Norvenian submarine give its hunters the slip. It wasn’t likely, but it was no less likely than the freakish coincidence that had brought the Elijah within spitting distance of the Glimmer in the first place. You never know, Burleigh thought. It’s in God’s hands now.

Come what might, the Glimmer had already hit back. Its six LY5755s were moving through the water: each propelled by its quiet pump-jet propulsor, each tracking its preprogrammed target via its own autonomous active and passive sonar suite and via its own magnetic anomaly detector. The torpedoes were truly autonomous; each Charybdis’ guidance computer possessed a decision-making suite that chose the torpedo’s approach. Thus, as the torpedoes homed in on the New Edomite supercarrier, amphibious assault ship, and carrier, they varied their speed to throw off sonar detection; they stuck to warm currents to evade thermal detection; they hid in the wake of the other New Edomite ships to camouflage their sonar signature. Initially, most of the torpedoes were using only their passive sonar, and they were moving at less than half of their maximum speed of eighty knots: this, combined with their autonomous decision-making capability, would make them hellishly difficult to detect until it was already too late. At that point, the torpedoes would accelerate to eighty knots to close the last distance to their targets, and use a three-hundred-kilogram dual-tandem warhead to inflict such comprehensive damage on those targets that even a supercarrier would struggle to remain afloat.

Scott Burleigh and his crew had one last chance to escape their fate; if they could vanish from the New Edomite sonar, then they might yet be able to dodge the torpedoes that were using that sonar to seek out their targets. Otherwise, they were dead, and they knew it. And so softly, softly, almost inaudibly, a snatch of music here and there could still be heard floating around the conn like a ghost.

Leaning…leaning…safe and secure…from all harm!
Leaning…leaning…leaning on…the everlasting arms!

[Norvenia]

The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

Cynthia Baker accepted the mint tea, and added a small spoonful of honey. The Norvenian gave a grateful smile and an appreciative nod. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Delicious.”

Then, Cynthia listened attentively as Siri related some of the folklore surrounding the Zoranots’in. A time before good and evil. Cynthia pondered that for a moment. My parents would call that a state of grace. Then again, my parents don’t believe in spirits. But a world at one, a world in balance; that is a classically Nalayan myth. Norvenians didn’t pray for a world in balance; they prayed for a world of perfect justice and ultimate liberty, a world reborn and cleansed. Perhaps that is the greatest difference of all.

Nor did Cynthia miss Siri’s comment about outside invasion. She remembered the refugees during the Intervention – mostly Arusai caught up in the initial coastal invasion. The Mak’ur who ended up in the areas that Civil Affairs managed behind the Norvenain front lines tended to be…reluctant to accept help, to say the least. The Civil Affairs officers had been forced to strap one girl to a hospital gurney for most of a month. Every time they released her, she tried to bolt out of the hospital – despite the fact that she was missing an arm and a leg.

Cynthia blinked slowly. Back in the room, Siri was talking about the birds: nightingales, and how they had to be shooed. The Protector – an easily familiar “Khavar” to Siri, as Cynthia noticed – fed the animals. The special envoy raised her eyebrows at that. Khavar T’avish, animal lover? That I would not have expected. But when Siri remarked as to how everyone needed more peace these days, Cynthia simply nodded. “True enough, Arzhani,” she agreed quietly. Her eyes widened the faintest trace as Siri shrugged off her outer shirt, revealing the Nalayan’s gaunt frame.

"Thank you,” Siri Kalousdian remarked, “for extending me the courtesy of calling me Arzhani, Siruhi Baker. I had expected to become Ms. Kalousdian after your Chancellor's press conference. Your manners speak very well of you. I hope you have enjoyed your stay here in Nalaya, as uncomfortable as it may be at the moment. We are trying to be the best possible hosts—your safety is our main restriction, for which I apologize. I would like to see you able to walk the street without escort, but we cannot allow anything unfortunate to happen to you, Siruhi, and this is not a perfect world."

“Indeed it is not,” Cynthia Baker agreed. She had her doubts as to whether Siri would really like to see the special envoy able to walk the streets unescorted. So useful, to be able to keep an eye on me at the same time as I am protected. But Cynthia also knew enough of Nalayan hospitality to believe that Siri was indeed trying to look after the Norvenian’s best interests – no matter what other motives the Nalayans might also possess.

“My stay has been quite comfortable,” Cynthia continued, “and I have enjoyed it very much. A security detail is a privilege as much as it is a discomfort. A colleague of mine in Constantinople is said to be living in the dark somewhere in the city’s underground cisterns. Your hospitality has been flawless, by contrast - for which I am truly grateful.” Cynthia smiled. “After all: had I not been accompanied these last weeks by your escort, who knows whether I would be able to meet you today? Your care for me has kept me safe, Arzhani – thank you.”

Cynthia paused, and chuckled quietly. “Oh. And regarding your title: my government forbids me from recognizing the legitimacy of this regime’s claim to sovereignty. It does not prevent me from recognizing the personal merits of that regime’s members. You are Arzhani. It is a title you have earned. It would be simply churlish of me to deny it.”

[New Edom]

Fineberg, New Edom

Perrin Pahath-Moab appeared to have every intent of giving his young wife Blanca the child she so badly wanted; he had consulted the best physicians available on the best times for this, on how coitus would ideally produce her readiness, and acted accordingly. Having showered, spent some time in prayer, he had just begun when there was a call on his emergency phone. Still joined but no longer pursuing the matter, he answered. “Yes.”

“Your Excellency, there has been an incident in the South Afroasian Sea.” General Benajah’s voice. “I suggest you come to the DoD at once.”

“Very well.” Perrin withdrew, and touched his wife’s cheek. “Another time. Stay near the phone, my dear. Evraim!” he shouted. “Get my uniform!”

From the Office of the President of the Council of Ministers
To the Right Honourable Lord Tweedsmuir, Prime Minister of Regnum Albion

---

Dear Prime Minister,

We have not been in previous communication, and I realize that your policy has of late been to not recognize my government. I am however offering you an opportunity to change that policy now.

Your government has done what few others have done in your Region—prevent the unnecessary spreading of war. War is inherently damaging to civilization, destroying livelihoods, lives, and futures, often for no real reason. As a career soldier I am all too aware of this.

This is why I am asking for your help.

The Norvenian government sent a carrier group to inhibit the passage of vessels which were being sent to Seahold in response to our alliance with that country. Naturally our admiral did not, as long as his force was not being interfered with directly, protest this as it had happened in international waters. However the Norvenian admiral began to deliberately provoke action including having a submarine act with hostile intent, and raising his level of readiness. While our admiral is a cool headed man I am concerned that this incident could get out of hand.

Our government has no contact with the Norvenian government. Chancellor Griffiths has consistently tried to use various forms of espionage and even assassination to undermine our government including on a provincial level, and I fear that we cannot trust him. However your government has until recently had a better relationship with the Norvenian government.

I am formally requesting your assistance as a mediator to help prevent a violent confrontation which would result in the unnecessary and tragic effusion of blood and terrible loss of lives. I ask that you would request that Mr. Griffiths should command his carrier group to stand down and move away from ours to such a sufficient distance that combat will be far less likely. We have no intention of attacking anyone, merely helping Seahold with her national defense.

I look greatly forward to Your Lordship’s reply.

Carrier Group Teman, South Afrosian Sea, Rough Weather

If the Norvenians thought their system was unique, they were sadly mistaken. The New Edomite Fleet had for the last several years been strongly trained by Estovakivan and Lamonian fleet officers to be able to use the CROMWELL II system, which integrated the battlespace of the fleet so that fire coordination, radar and sonar coordination gave an electronic sphere wrapped around the fleet like reactive armour, the first line of defense. Along with CAP, the cruisers and missile ships, combined with the defenses of the destroyers and frigates,

What the difference was was the Arsenal Ships. The Pijil Class Arsenal ship gave a New Edomite fleet may times its natural strength. It had been proved again and again, in the Former Chyeknovostan Republic, in Hutanjia, in Damoclea, in the Second Civil War, against Nova Samnium: the arsenal wins the day.

A message had come from Fienberg, from Admiral Bezaris: You are to make no aggressive move save in response to an outright attack. Report when the submarine is destroyed what action the Norvenians take.

Admiral Shalmaneser sat quietly, listening to the reports coming in in the CIC, brooding like a sorcerer. Waiting.

"They've launched torpedoes." sonar operator declared.

"At what?" Captain Merari demanded.

"Don't know yet..." muttered the operator.

Sonar tracking on the surface vessels of torpedoes was spotty; they kept blipping in and out of detection, and ASW countermeasures officers were waiting tensely for the right moment to launch. On the Teman and the Sterry they were launched in time.

There was a reverberating boom—heard even in the CIC.

“Ice Maiden has been hit!” exclaimed Commander Bashan. “Hit bad, systems have been overwhelmed she’s flooding her bilges badly.”

“Prepare for Search and Rescue.” Admiral Shalmaneser said calmly. “Captain Oren is a good commander, he will know what to do.”

“Sir, are we at war with Norvenia?” asked Captain Merari.

“We are at war with someone.” Admiral Shalmaneser said. ‘Enough: I want a damage report from her.”

Everyone could imagine the panic and horror on the ship. To serve on a cruiser, officers and petty officers needed to be veterans, needed to have a strong focus, determination and experience, but nevertheless they were in rough high winds seas, far from home, no friendly ports or indeed even neutral pots close. The keel had not been broken or it would already been sinking, but it had been hit badly enough that according to damage reports she was listing badly, which would be very dangerous in this weather. Serious damage to the engine room meant that major power was cut; they couldn’t close off some of the lower hatches. Flooding was bad.


NENS Calafia

When waves were strong enough to crash against the upper decks of a Kaztlan Class Amphibious Helicopter Deck, you knew it was rough seas. It was like a nightmare out there, and even in the radar section Junior Lieutenant Gore felt sick to his stomach; he was chewing ginger like crazy. He was reporting multiple radar contacts and their bearings; he could only imagine what balls the Norvenian and Edomite pilots must have to be up in this dangerous weather. Why didn’t someone call all this off?

Admiral Hanneghan had added a flight of the Terrier complement of the Calafia to the CAP; the tough little VTOL fighters taking off on rocky slick decks into the shadowy sky.

Suddenly Commander Behar was beside him. “Lieutenant, I’m relieving you for fifteen minutes, go to the head, put some water on your face.” She held his eyes. “Go. You’re no good if you’re nauseous, and you’ve been on watch and watch. Go on.”

“Thank you Commander,” he said, lurching to his feet. Why was the deck leaning so? He clenched his teeth and went out through the hatch with as much dignity as he could muster. He hoped the head didn’t smell like vomit…

NENS Elijah

They were crazy. They had to be. The Elijah had them dead bang. As the XO had said, a handkerchief duel; and now the frigate above was hammering down depth charges too—there would be no where to run. The whole fleet knew where the Glimmer was—what could they do, but die?

The XO had given standing orders for reloads following, and for deployment of countermeasure.

The boat shook, the boat leaned as orders for maneuver were given, the XO grabbing onto the map counter for balance along with Gatam. Gatam could see that Blackie Dedan’s lips were moving quietly—they still had the enemy sub pinned down by sonar, she had announced the confirmation of contact again but had standing orders not to keep doing it aloud, just to notify them of any changes.

Lieutenant Gatam had quickly instructed following Weapons: “Reload tubes, one-six. Forward room, make ready the forward tubes. After room, except for opening the outer doors, make ready the after tubes.”

“Aye,” came the voice over the phone in a comment. “Reloading tubes one, two, three..” with After Room confirming their reloads as well.

He checked his watch, sweating. Didn’t want the signals messed up. “Forward room, set depth zero eight feet. After room, open the outer doors on tubes seven and eight.” Tick, tick, tick…”Forward room, stand by. Fire one. Fire two. Fire three…”

Crazy. They didn’t even know if it was a Norvenian sub—it could be a Commoner, a Falkasian, any number of possible enemies—but it was going down for certain. It was probably Norvenian. Why hadn’t they bothered to admit that the jig was up—they’d been actively pinged…

“They sang hymns with us,” muttered Gatam. “Why the hell couldn’t they just identify?”

The XO said, “We are all grass that is put into the oven and baked. Everyone’s got to die sometime, Lieutenant.”

[Nalaya]

The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

"That does take us smoothly to the discussion at hand," Siri said when Cynthia mentioned the legitimacy of the regime. "Though perhaps it will be a little more one-sided than an average conversation. I was hoping you could do most of the talking. I feel there has been something of a misunderstanding, as do the rest of the Avangardn. I have spoken with Ter DeGroot for something of an explanation, but he has been unable to clarify things for us."

She curled her hands around her coffee cup thoughtfully, trying to find a good way to phrase her questions. "I understand what the O'Donnell Doctrine is, Siruhi. I understand what it means to Nalaya. What I do not understand is what it seeks to accomplish," she said after a long pause, turning over everything in her mind. As a doctor, she had a very specific sort of mind. If there was a wound, you treated it. A disease, you cured it. A problem, a solution. That was the lens through which she looked at the world. And above that ruled the Hippocratic Oath, the code that she measured her entire life up to.

Behind the dark eyes focused on Cynthia attentively lay the same drive that possessed her to never leave a patient dying on the table. She always had to do everything in her power to save them, no matter who they were or what they'd done. She didn't believe in good and evil. She followed the guidance of compassion instead of Right. And that meant admitting that one was wrong more often than not. She was the gentling influence to Khavar's unwavering, irresistible force of a personality.

"Could you lay it out for me, Siruhi? What, precisely, is your country aiming to accomplish?" Siri said before sipping from her coffee. She knew that if Norvenia went about this the wrong way, it would be like a bull in a china shop. And with more people dead than in Raith Immel. Even the thought of that whole deployment, but particularly that incident, sent a little rush of adrenaline through her veins. But what really chilled her was thinking of Norvenia disturbing the sleeping dragon. No one in the Avangardn, not even Khavar, wanted a war. But there were people in Nalaya who, if threatened, would stop at nothing short of scorched earth and salted fields. No matter what it cost them. These were the same people who would unleash nuclear fire on the world just to watch it consume their enemies, even if they themselves were hit in the blast.

Like the Quarval-sharess.

That...woman...was responsible for chasing Norvenia out of the Mak'ur Homeland after Dyvynasshar's destruction. For helping the Avangardn rise to power by doing the impossible: getting the Mak'ur to fight as a single, united force. The bridge between the living and the dead, between spirits and mortals, if the faith of the Mak'ur was to be believed. The heart of the Fane. The soul of L'i'dol. The Dread Wolf. With a creature like that at the head of the Yath, it was no wonder their religion was so full of zealots. How fortunate the Quarval-sharess was not in Sevan to catch wind of Norvenian presence of any kind. Only Khavar would have been able to keep her at bay, and Siri wasn't certain if the Protector would be willing to risk civil war over one special envoy's head. But of course it wouldn't be just one head. It never was with Lledrith A'Daragon.

Siri often wondered if people realized just what stirring up Southern Acheron meant.

[Norvenia]

Vampier-class Nuclear Hunter-Killer Submarine CNS Glimmer
Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group, Norvenian New Model Army
Southern Afrosian Sea, Rough Weather

In the end, it was mercifully quick.

Passive sonar picked up the faint noise of the incoming torpedoes and depth charges. Countermeasures managed to lure two torpedoes away, but one still detonated so close by that the shockwave slapped the Glimmer like the hand of God, knocking Scott Burleigh off his feet. Mary Lariston twisted in her chair and reached out a hand toward Burleigh. He took it, feeling her palm warm and dry in his hand, and he felt blood running down the back of his head from where his scalp had split against the deck.

“It’s okay,” Burleigh whispered. He didn’t know whom he was addressing.

Burleigh felt his mind turning fuzzy, his thoughts blurring, the conn’s artificial light shining kaleidoscopically as if it had passed through a prism. He knew that he was concussed. But he also felt clear, somehow; the constrictions of time and place seemed to fall away a little, and Scott Burleigh felt able to see the whole world out beyond the hull of his submarine.

He saw his wife Jessica browsing the piers in Calvin where the fishermen unloaded their catch; she was searching for the freshest clams and lobsters, looking forward to seeing the girls when they visited on Sunday. He saw his daughter Linda coaxing a little bit of applesauce into her daughter’s mouth, and a lot more onto the baby’s bib, and Scott Burleigh’s tiny granddaughter was giving that little, burbling laugh of hers. He saw the sun off Norvenia’s western coast, the sun that Scott Burleigh had watched every morning, and it was shining bright, and sparkling on the endless waves in everlasting beauty.

That was real. It was as real as the cramped conn, and the flashing lights, and the blood, and the fear on Mary Lariston’s face. Maybe it was more real. And it would never die.

Scott Burleigh squeezed Mary Lariston’s hand. “It’s okay,” he whispered again. And he closed his eyes.

A depth charge from the NENS Ranseur struck the Glimmer amidships and blew the submarine almost in half. The blast wave of the explosion ripped through the conn and killed Scott Burleigh, Mary Lariston, and Rob Crawford instantly. Those few crewmembers who survived the explosion succumbed in seconds to the crushing pressure and freezing cold of the pitch-black waters, slipping away into forgiving unconsciousness before they drowned. And like the slain body of some vast whale, the wreckage of the Glimmer vanished into the abyss of the sea.

In the end, it was mercifully quick.

* * *

Monarch-class Nuclear Guided-Missile Battleship CNS Equity
Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group, Norvenian New Model Army
Southern Afrosian Sea, Rough Weather

Cara Brown’s gaze was intent upon the screens surrounding her station, and her fingers danced over her keyboard as she sorted through the combined data of more than a hundred networked radars and sonars and even a few NIS satellites: she was pulling a coherent picture of a fleet that lay more than a hundred kilometers away from the intervening chaos of rain and lightning and surging, crashing waves.

What Cara Brown saw made her grunt softly, as if she had been punched in the gut.

“Admiral,” she said briefly, “I’m pretty sure that they just fired on the Glimmer, and that the Glimmer shot back.”

Wright picked up his thermos as if he were inclined to throw that too, and then he just hissed furiously and slammed the thermos back down on the projector-table. “Dammit. How do you know?”

“Everything I’m seeing – satellite infrared is the most reliable source right now - says that one of the New Edomite cruisers has started to list in a fashion consistent with severe torpedo damage. Scott Burleigh wouldn’t have fired first, so I think the New Edomites must have engaged him and he hit back while he could.”

“Fuck,” Wright whispered, and shook his head in disbelief.

“And,” Cara Brown added tonelessly, “they just launched more fighters. Definitely stealth VTOLs; they got a lot harder to see as soon as they finished take-off. I expect a match on them as Terriers within a few minutes.”

“They killed Burleigh for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, yes?” Wright nodded in answer to his own question, and turned to the networked weapons officer, Lieutenant Commander Ryan Billingsford. “Well. Our fleets are about a hundred klicks apart right now. If any New Edomite aircraft comes within fifty kilometers of us, Commander Billingsford, you are to shoot it down. Is that clear?”

Billingsford stared incredulously for a moment, and then nodded once. “Yes.” He paused. “Sir.”

At her station, Lucy Okongo was speaking quietly into her headset. “Hello, AFROCOM, this is the CNS Equity. I have Rear Admiral Wright on the line for Marshal Sydney Anderson. Priority Alpha.” A pause. “Thank you.” Another, longer pause. “Admiral Wright? The marshal is on the line.”

Wright pulled on his new headset. “Hello?”

“Rear Admiral,” snapped the voice of the New Model Army AFROCOM overall commander, “would you like to tell me what the hell is going on out there?”

“Captain Burleigh, on his own initiative, made a close reconnaissance of Carrier Group Teman. He was spotted, and destroyed.”

“The New Edomites fired first?”

“Yes, Marshal.”

“And they didn’t contact you first?”

A pause. “They did, Marshal.” In the Equity’s CIC, Lucy Okongo hid a bitter smirk.

“And what did they say, Admiral?”

Wright rose abruptly from his chair. “They wanted me to tell them that the Glimmer was one of ours. I told them that the Glimmer might be one of ours, and advised them to hold their fire. They responded by blowing it the hell out of the water. What do you want from me here, ma’am?”

Sydney Anderson’s voice was low and dangerous even over the comm link. “Listen, Nehemiah, I know how much you enjoy your maverick image. You’ve built a whole career on it. But let’s get one thing clear right here and now: your career is over. From what I understand, you just lost a Vampier-class submarine on a routine show-of-force because you wouldn’t admit that you made a mistake. So don’t give me this maverick shit, because there is no longer any reason for me to put up with it. Do you understand?”

Wright shook his head, teeth bared in a feral grimace. “Yes, Marshal.”

“Good. Now, here’s what you are going to do. We’re going to figure out whether you actually just started a war. Keep full-spectrum defense. Inform the New Edomites that you will fire on any forces that breach a fifty-kilometer perimeter. Then pull back another hundred kilometers toward Port Wessex, into combat radius of our land-based aircraft. If the New Edomites pursue or take other aggressive action, we’ll be able to scramble the Eagleborn to support you. That’ll give us two-to-one superiority at sea, and three-to-one superiority in the air. If not, then your XO will take command of the Group and continue the mission. You will return to Port Wessex for debrief.” A pause. “Do you understand, Rear Admiral?”

Nehemiah Wright squared his shoulders. “I have no regrets, ma’am.”

“Tell that to Scott Burleigh’s daughters.” There was a hiss of static. “You have your orders, Wright.” The line went dead.

Wright stood by the Fleet Operations Display for a long moment, quietly clenching and unclenching his fists. Then he slowly removed his headset and tossed it onto the projector table, his shoulders slumped. “Lieutenant Okongo,” the admiral said quietly, “please inform the New Edomite fleet of our new orders. Commander Masters, set a course bearing north forty degrees east toward Port Wessex.”

The fleet navigation officer nodded, as did Lucy Okongo. “Yes, sir.” The communications officer tapped briefly at her keyboard, sending a communication in text form to the Teman.

Code: Select all

 To: N.E.N.S. Teman, New Edomite Navy
From: C.N.S. Equity, Norvenian New Model Army
Encryption: Level VII

In light of recent events, the Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group will be moving 100 kilometers to the northeast of your scheduled route. Any forces that come within fifty kilometers of the Group will be treated as hostile. Thank you.

[Norvenia]

The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

Cynthia Baker smiled briefly when Siri said that she hoped that the special envoy would do most of the talking. Not for the first time, she reflected on the strange nature of Nalayan courtesy. The Avangardn feeling that there must have been something of a misunderstanding is the equivalent of anyone else saying that you have one last chance to explain yourself. It was, however, interesting that Siri had spoken to DeGroot. That’s a diplomatic connection that might prove important.

When Siri had finished asking her questions, Cynthia Baker studied the Virabuyz Yndhanur’s dark eyes. She saw passion there, focus, drive. And exhaustion. Cynthia felt a flicker of confusion. I respect this woman. I admire her. But she is sitting there in a military uniform claiming to represent a legitimate government. She saves lives, and at the same time serves a regime that oppresses millions. The Norvenian felt her stomach twist unhappily. What am I supposed to do here?

And so Cynthia Baker took several long seconds to think before she spoke. And when she did reply, her words were measured, and her tone contemplative.

“The O’Donnell Doctrine,” Cynthia said carefully, “is not an instrumental policy. That, at least, is what I was taught; that is how the Thomas and Griffiths administrations have typically explained it. Norvenia wants to support democracy, but the O’Donnell Doctrine is not intended to spread democracy. Norvenia wants to uphold human rights, but the O’Donnell Doctrine is not intended to defend human rights. It is not a utilitarian policy, aimed at creating good effects. So in material terms, the O’Donnell Doctrine does not seek to accomplish anything.”

Cynthia considered again, then smiled. “Think of the Avangardn’s hospitality toward me, Arzhani. You did not have to extend this hospitality. Nalaya would be no worse off if I had died unexpectedly than if I had lived. Nalaya would certainly be no worse of if I had been housed in a miserable little garret than if I had been accommodated in the lovely room that you have given me.”

“And yet you extend to me the blessings of your hospitality and your protection – because, as I understand it, you feel that this is the right thing to do. No matter how deeply I may offend you, no matter how dangerous my presence may be, to harm a guest would still always be wrong. My experience here suggests that hospitality, for most Nalayans, is a categorical imperative. To violate it, no matter the circumstances, is unthinkable.” Cynthia spread her hands. “I could be wrong, but that is what I have felt during my time here.”

“That’s how most Norvenians feel – or felt – about recognizing dictatorships. No matter what the good effects of doing so might be, recognizing a dictator as a sovereign would still be wrong in some way so profound as to make it unthinkable for us.” Cynthia groped for words. “It would be a…betrayal. A betrayal of something so profound about who we are as Norvenians that no good outcome could justify the moral cost. Calling tyranny out for what it is – to most Norvenians, that is a categorical imperative. It is a moral requirement, no matter the cost and no matter the circumstances. It has nothing to do with effects or consequences, just as hospitality has nothing to do with effects or consequences. It is a pure moral requirement.”

“And Norvenia is a democracy,” Cynthia concluded. “Our government is founded upon the will of the people – their desires, their interests, their moral convictions. So if most Norvenians feel that there is never a moral justification for recognizing dictatorships, regardless of consequences – then the Norvenian government will never recognize dictatorships, regardless of consequences. That’s why the July 15 referendum is so important – it’s a vote that will show whether Norvenians’ most fundamental beliefs about their moral obligations have changed. If so, then Norvenian policy will have to change accordingly. If not, then not.”

“I hope that this explains some of the thinking – and, perhaps more importantly, the feeling – behind the O’Donnell Doctrine. But if I can clarify anything further, well” – Cynthia smiled – “as you know, I have nowhere to be. I am entirely at your disposal.”

[New Edom]

NENS Teman

“Report in from the Ranseur…I think we have a kill on that submarine,” said Bashan alertly.

“Good. I would like the Leopard Seal to provide direct assistance to the Ice Maide.” Admiral Shalmaenser said.

“I think she’s already on her way, sir, she’s closest,” reported Bashan.

“Good. Calafia and this vessel will stand by to receive evacuees, and we will see if they can stabilize the Ice Maiden’s condition. However unlikely that may be….”

“Admiral, message from the Norvenians!” the signals officer said.

Admiral Shalmaneser read it and shook his head. “It took this many casualties for them to take us seriously. Well…so be it. Acknowledge message received and understood. That’s all.” He smiled coldly. “The man did not even have the courtesy to address me himself. Make sure it is acknowledged on my behalf. We will not imitate these barbarians.”

When he was speaking quietly with Merari, Bashan and Heep, Heep said, ‘Admiral with all due respect, is this a victory or a standoff?”

“It is neither. What we have achieved is getting them to take us a little more seriously. I expected more casualties than we received, at their hands or the Valyrians. People may one day learn not to bluff a New Edomite officer. They were foolish. Had they simply acknowledged the presence of the sub, I would have thanked them and sailed on. As it is, they are already threatening us by not acknowledging our government and sailing so close to our force. We acted accordingly. Now, we have a ship to rescue and a mission to carry out. Let us be about it.”

“What if they didn’t sink that sub, or there are others?” asked Captain Merari.

“Then we shall be vigilant, Captain Merari.” Shalmaneser said calmly. He made his way back to his chair, sat down, and said, “Oh…let hymns of thanksgiving be played throughout the fleet on ships not concerned with the rescue. Make sure that the distance required is maintained beyond the requirement. If they wish to follow us again, so be it. By morning we will stand down and maintain regular patrol and readiness levels if the situation has not changed.”

[Nalaya]

Office of Siri Kalousdian
The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

Siri took a long moment to ponder everything that Cynthia had said. She thought of the Mak'ur Crusade and the toll it had taken culturally on that people. Of Raith Immel and her own personal losses there. And more than anything else, of the civil wars that had wracked Nalaya for centuries. That endless cycle of violence that had reached its zenith in the decade of the Nalaya's unification. And she knew that by the standard of the Norvenians, everything that the Avangardn had accomplished meant nothing. They were all evil. Anahid was evil. She was evil, by virtue of the same service for which she was called Arzhani.

The end to all of that suffering was wrong. They should have just let the tribes tear each other apart, because at least then they were free.

"So the O'Donnell Doctrine," she said very carefully, like a woman fishing knives out of a kitchen drawer at midnight, "is, in fact, a condemnation. It does not consider human rights nor seek to protect them. It does not consider history or make allowances for culture. It is simply right and we are wrong. As the Mak'ur were wrong." As my soldiers in Raith Immel were wrong. "It exists solely to turn into political reality a single viewpoint. It does not allow for diplomacy or understanding, nor respect."

Siri sipped her coffee. "Thank you, Siruhi. You have been very helpful in my understanding. I will explain the situation with more clarity to Khavar. She has been very concerned, but now that we understand that it has no purpose, I am certain she will be content to return her attention to domestic matters. We are approaching quickly the anniversary of the destruction of the Fane and the Quarval-sharess has invited the Protector to join her." It was no secret that the Dread Wolf still bore her grudge against the Norvenians, a flame of vengeance like no other. The destruction of the Fane had been a blow to the faith of L'i'dol that would be felt forever. A slap in the face to every Mak'ur soul. Siri didn't blame them for the wounds that had been salted and left raggedly open. Khavar was pushing Lledrith to make her peace, but it was a Sisyphean struggle if ever there was one.

Everything with Norvenia seemed to exist in absolutes. Black and white. Siri was more intimately familiar with the world of grey. How else could one explain a monster in love with the idea of a country finally united and safe? A doctor that had left her people to die chasing peace? The mythic figures of the Dread Wolf and the Anur alike, existing in balance? It was not perfect, because life was messy and confusing and terrifying and wonderful. Siri wished she could put those voters in her shoes, living with her memories, for just a day.

"We are not just hospitable out of imperative, Siruhi," she said softly, finishing off her coffee before pouring herself another cup. "You must understand Nalayans. We also need an excuse to not kill each other. Thus the tradition was born over the course of millennia. There is always a reason for what we do. Nothing in this world exists in a vacuum. Would you care for more tea?"

There was a soft knock at the door and then it opened to reveal a young man in uniform, the emerald, twisted cross on his armband marking him as a medic. "Arzhani, the Dread Wolf is finished speaking to the Protector. You said you wanted a word with her about the Norvenian business?"

Siri glanced over at Cynthia. "Would you mind, Siruhi? Don't worry, the Quarval-sharess is on her best behavior in the Zoranots'in. You have nothing to fear from her. But if you would prefer to leave, I certainly understand. I understand that you may have had some less than pleasant encounters with the Mak'ur. That tends to engender a certain distaste."

Honestly, Siri was quite proud of Lledrith. The woman had been nothing but courtesy itself to the ambassador from Hostillia, even play-fighting with her rather than legitimately inflicting wounds. Her authority had been what stepped the Hostillian envoy from Siruhi to Tiruhi. But the Yndhanur didn't expect that Cynthia or any Norvenian would have forgiven and forgotten. Christian values only went so far and the Mak'ur were fundamentally godless pagans who venerated the primal. There was a definite difference in wavelength there.

---

Office of Khavar T'avish
The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

"So you are going to go?" Hravad said, watching as Khavar poured herself a drink. The door was closing as Lledrith vanished through it and he could see hints of exhaustion creeping into the Protector's posture. She was tired of dealing with all the problems the Norvenians had stirred up with their sudden presence in Cornellia. It was riling up every ethnic group but the Imanalov', probably because the mountain people were so gentle that they couldn't bring themselves to anything more than a deep concern.

"Of course," the Protector said, swirling the brandy around in her glass before taking a sip. "It's an honor to be invited to those ruins, particularly on that day of the year. The memorial is actually quite beautiful, I hear. Nothing like the usual rites."

The smell of incense still lingered from their guest, who had come straight from one of those rites in question, a bittersweet perfume mingling with wood-smoke and a faint coppery tang. It wasn't an unpleasant aroma at all. Just one that spoke of wildness and the religious zeal that belonged to the Yath alone. Hravad sighed a little in relief that the meeting had gone so well. Sometimes it was like an irresistible force meeting an immovable object between the Protector and the Quarval-sharess. "And the Norveni?"

Khavar shrugged a little, turning the conversation over in her mind again. Lledrith's frustrations were not so far removed from her own. The difference came in what they proposed to do about it. The Dread Wolf didn't want to talk things out, not any more. If the Fane were still standing it would be different. But it had been destroyed just like any other building in Dyvynasshar, the invaders ignorant of the significance of what they'd hit. "Perhaps it really is time to remind the world of what was lost. I don't know how much of a difference it will make, but DeGroot is right. There needs to be a reminder of the consequence of crusading."

The tall, grim, scarred Yndhanur studied her for a long moment. He nearly froze when those emerald eyes focused on him, almost looking through him as though he were transparent. There was something about some of her looks that could make someone feel so small so quickly. But this one was more piercing than disapproving or dangerous. "And the Sulhanate?"

"In a year, we'll put it to popular vote," Khavar said as she swept brown hair out of her face. "Not sooner, lest the Norveni feel their O'Donnell Doctrine has been validated. Besides, we need time to clean up the legislation and regulations surrounding it. They made a massive mess of loopholes and corruption. Siri was almost tearing her hair out."

Hravad chuckled. "And now you've left her to tear her hair out over a different matter," he said.

"Siri is a safe woman for them to speak to," the Protector explained. "Besides, she has what you would call a certain level of moral ground. Her whole life has been an example of doing good even at the worst of personal loss. There isn't a thing of her own she wouldn't sacrifice to do her utmost to bring compassion and healing into the world. Heaven knows she has already destroyed her health and peace of mind for that end."

[Regnum Albion]

---

Recipient: General Release - All Relevant Parties
Sender: Ministry of Defence of the Crown Commonwealth of Regnum Albion
Subject: Royal Navy Patrols

Date: June 1, 2014
Encryption: Open

---

To all whom it may concern,

In light of recent events occurring in both Cornellia and Aurora, including actions which may perceived to be warlike in their intent and consequences, the Ministry of Defence is obliged to inform the global community of certain Anglican responses, on behalf of His Majesty's Government. We would ask that you heed the message held within this communiqué.

The primary purpose of this message is to reaffirm the current Anglican stance of neutrality concerning any actions taking place between the nations of Cornellia and the Commonwealth of Norvenia. Though His Majesty's Government has repeatedly called for a reduction in tensions and has attempted to engage many of the involved parties through diplomatic outreach, we have taken no sides in what has escalated into an inter-regional crisis. For the foreseeable future, this policy will remain in force, and Regnum Albion shall continue to pursue armed neutrality as a response to any concerned events.

However, given the dramatic shifts of power within Aurora of late and thanks to a number of treaties and alliances now in force between the Crown Commonwealth and its region-mates, His Majesty's Government is more dedicated than ever in ensuring that conflict does not engulf our region. To that end, the Royal Navy will be deploying dedicated patrols into international waters near Eastern Aurora and the allies of the Crown Commonwealth. Details of the patrols are listed below:

• The 15th Interdiction Group and 16th Littoral Combat Group shall be sailing in rotation from HMNB Shenfei Harbour in order to patrol the waters leading up to the Skorzenian Straits.
• The 11th Interdiction Group shall be sailing to the Quinlay Inlet to the north-east of Lanos in order to patrol the waters leading to the East Auroran Ocean.
• The 18th Littoral Combat Group and 20th Mine Countermeasures, Hydrography and Patrol Group shall be joining the 24th Arctic Patrol Group in the Arctic Ocean north of Bratoslovoukia in order to patrol the waters leading to the East Auroran Ocean.
• The 13th Interdiction Group and 19th Mine Countermeasures, Hydrography and Patrol Group shall be sailing in rotation from HMNB Kanahashi in order to patrol the southern Afrosian Sea near Florys.
• Multiple undisclosed submarines shall continue their usual patrols around the seas and oceans of Aurora.
• The 1st Battle Group, including its carrier flagship, shall be launching a normal patrol around the seas and oceans of Aurora. This patrol shall not deliberately make for or interfere with any known combat locations in the West Auroran Ocean.
• The 25th Intelligence Group shall be deploying one of its intelligence-gathering vessels with a small escort of multipurpose gunboats to patrol the locations listed above.

Please be reassured that these patrols are in normal locations and are simply an extension of the Royal Navy's usual peacetime operations. They do, however, constitute an increase of vessels from the normal patrol groups as a response to unfolding events.

Though you may have surmised already, the point of this message is that Eastern Aurora will not be the site of a conflict that has spilled over from Cornellia and Western Aurora. The Royal Navy, backed by Royal Air Force patrols, shall uphold all of its international agreements to defend its allies - Florys, Seahold, Mizuyuki, Afalia, Blackledge and Aurinsula - from any undue aggression and shall continue its commitment to peace, stability, security, and humanitarian protection for Eastern Aurora.

Normal shipping shall not be prevented from passing through these internationally-open waterways, but combat within East Aurora shall be responded to severely through all possible political routes. We would urge that all nations respect the peace of Eastern Aurora and fully understand the security communities that exist to preserve that pacific state, as well as the consequences from many nations if it is breached.

His Majesty's Government sincerely hopes that this message has made clear the actions and intentions of the Royal Navy, and we once more push for security and stability to be the order of the day when approaching a resolution to this deeply regrettable crisis.

Ministry of Defence,
His Majesty's Government,
The Crown Commonwealth of Regnum Albion

[New Edom]

From the Office of the President of the Council of Ministers
an Open Message
To the Governments of the Regions of the Cornellia Empire and of Aurora

---

This Tue May 27, 2014, a Norvenian Naval Interdiction Group attempted to intercept the New Edomite Fleet led by Carrier Group Teman under the command of Vice-Admiral Prince Elijah Shalmaneser. Ostensibly intending to act as an ‘escort’ this force advised it would be shadowing the New Edomite fleet. However when Admiral Shalmaneser contacted Admiral Nehemiah Wright, commander of the Norvenian force, regarding a submarine tailing them, the Norvenian refused to admit that a submarine had been ordered to closely monitor the New Edomite fleet. When Admiral Shalmaneser advise that due to various international tensions facing New Edom that every effort should be made to contact this submarine, the Norvenian admiral refused. Admiral Shalmaneser advise that he would be obliged to fire upon the submarine (which had been identified as a Vampier Class SSN—a submarine operated by the Norvenian “New Model Army” which comprises the fleet as well). Admiral Wright immediately closed off communications. Following this, the submarine was sunk but not before it had badly damaged a New Edomite cruiser.

It is the habit of Norvenian high commands and politicians to blame particular officers when such incidents take place—other examples being the collateral damage against Nalayan peacekeepers at Ban’s Village in Raith Immel and at 9th Street in Fineberg during the Norvenian peacekeeping tour there. However this is considered by New Edomite political leaders to be the very worst—an attack on a New Edomite fleet in international waters.

In this case however it is abundantly clear that the fault only partly lies with the Norvenian Admiral Wright. The fault truly lies with those who made and perpetuated a policy that condemns negotiation with governments with whom Norvenia disagrees.

Where is the morality of Norvenia? When people in Cornellia have needed food, who came first? Norvenia or Nalaya? When people in Cornellia have needed protection from pirates, who came first? Norvenia or Adiron? When people in Cornellia were plagued by communist terrorists, who stepped in but New Edom and Arbites? A government whose leader has stated categorically that he would not have lifted a finger to save Saint-Severin during the Othmani invasion can claim no moral superiority whatsoever.

In spite of the threats of the Norvenian Commonwealth the Allied States of New Edom will not stand down, and will not quail in the face of their tyranny. It is clear that they only understand one form of reason: that which is done through force.

[Norvenia]

The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

Cynthia Baker could have said many things in response to Siri Kalousdian’s analysis of the O’Donnell Doctrine. She could have said that Siri was right, for in a sense the Nalayan was correct: the Doctrine did exist solely to turn into political reality a single viewpoint. She could have said that Siri was wrong, for the Doctrine was not devoid of purpose; on the contrary, its purpose was to express and serve the moral compass of the Norvenian people. And she could have said that Siri simply didn’t understand – but that seemed so obvious as to go without saying. They do not understand us. We do not understand them. Just as the core of Cynthia’s explanation seemed to fly over Siri’s head, the special envoy felt that she couldn’t quite grasp Siri’s explanation of Nalayan hospitality. Of course nothing exists in a vacuum; of course there are traditional reasons for hospitality. But the hospitality itself remains an imperative – doesn’t it?

So there were many things that Cynthia Baker could have said. She could have asked questions, and offered explanations. But there was a note of finality in Siri Kalousdian’s voice that silenced the Norvenian. It seems that we are done talking. Cynthia nodded at the subtly pointed mention of the Fane’s destruction. A reminder of what Norvenian zeal has already done to Nalaya; it is no coincidence for Siri to mention this now.

As if to confirm that suspicion, a young medic knocked at the door and announced the impending arrival of the Dread Wolf herself: Lledrith A’Daragon dal Drisinil. Siri reassured Cynthia that the Quarval-Sharess would “be on her best behavior,” which Cynthia took to mean that the Dread Wolf wouldn’t rip the special envoy’s head off on general principles. Well, that’s something. Kalousdian seemed to be under the impression that Cynthia might be staying for the meeting with the Quarval-Sharess – and she managed to obliquely reference the Intervention yet again. All right, I get it already! Cynthia thought.

“You’ve clearly read my file,” the Norvenian replied after a moment’s thought. “Yes, I served during the Norvenian campaign here. I lost friends. We all did. But I was in a Civil Affairs unit; my job was helping people in the wake of the advance up-country. All people.” Cynthia shrugged. “I had some less than pleasant encounters with the Mak’ur, yes. They terrified me then, and terrify me still.” The special envoy paused for a moment, and thought of shadows slipping through the field hospital at two o’clock in the morning, blood spraying over newly whitewashed walls like water from a hose. The weak screams of slowly dying men. The blinding flash and thunder of gunfire in a narrow, darkened corridor. The twisted, rubbery, dead faces of children carrying Kalashnikovs.

“But I also had some good encounters with them,” Cynthia concluded. “I brought in industrial equipment to dig a well, once. I helped to build an upcountry clinic. Not much, in the balance of things. But it was better than nothing.” The Norvenian shrugged. “There are good people on both sides of every divide, Arzhani. We both know that. I haven’t met the Quarval-Sharess. In the absence of any personal acquaintance, I’d rather judge her by the best of the Mak’ur whom I’ve known than by the worst.” The special envoys smiled wearily. “So if I would not be intruding upon your meeting, then I would not mind staying. And if I would be a hindrance to you, then I would be happy to go. As I said, Arzhani: I am at your service.”

[Norvenia]

Chancellor House
Astor-of-Stone
Commonwealth of Norvenia

“Remember the Glimmer!”

They were chanting out by the gates to Chancellor House. From the Redwood Office, one could not see the demonstration; one’s view of the gates was blocked by the wild hedges and ancient cedars of Chancellor House’s sprawling gardens. But one could hear the protest loud and clear.

“Remember the Glimmer! Remember the Glimmer! Remember the Glimmer! REMEMBER THE GLIMMER!”

Malcolm Griffiths abruptly closed the window of the Redwood Office, and the sound of the chanting died down to a low murmur. The chancellor turned back to his cabinet. “At last count,” he said carefully, “there are ten thousand angry voters marching around my doorstep. There are five times that number picketing the federal building in Wrenwatch.” The Chancellor sat down behind his massive desk – the Fortitude Desk, a gift from Regnum Albion – and steepled his fingers. “In the opinion of this nation, Norvenia has been attacked by New Edomite forces, and we are now at war.” Griffiths cast a long look around the room. “I should like to know how the public came to this conclusion.”

Maureen McConnell, Griffiths’ chief of staff, sighed. “Mister Chancellor, the New Edomites got out ahead of this story. Most of their message was ranting that nobody really took seriously – on this island, anyway – but they also outlined the bare bones of the encounter between Wright and Shalmaneser. Based on that, a certain reporter from NCB News” – at this the whole room sighed, for no piece of good news ever began with the phrase “a certain reporter from NCB News” – “figured out that if the destroyed submarine was ours, then it had to have been the Glimmer. Then this reporter compared that fact against our casualty reporting procedures, and found that the New Model Army had designated the whole crew MIA.”

Griffiths was shocked. “That information isn’t publically available.”

“No,” Frederick Vandercreuse confirmed, his voice a low growl, “it’s not.”

“But do you really want to start prosecuting reporters?” McConnell sighed. “Look, sir, it got out. That’s the real point now. The country knows that the New Edomites sank a Norvenian military submarine. All that people are waiting on is official confirmation.”

The chancellor pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re certain, then? They definitely sank the Glimmer?”

There was a pained silence. Frederick Vandercreuse shrugged his shoulders slightly. “We won’t be absolutely sure of any of this until we can get a deep-sea submarine to examine the wreckage. But Nehemiah Wright’s debrief at Port Wessex suggests that the Glimmer went deep and went quiet in the exact area in which the New Edomites then destroyed a Vampier-class submarine. And we’ve received a ‘death transmission’ from the Glimmer itself.” The old soldier shrugged a second time. “It would be…irresponsible to ignore the obvious conclusion.”

Griffiths gritted his teeth. “And the rest of the story that’s going around? That the New Edomites fired first, unprovoked?”

Vandercreuse nodded. “When one of our submarines sustains critical damage,” he explained, “it jettisons a tiny one-way comms buoy – the ‘death transmission’ I was talking about. On reaching the surface, that buoy sends a tightbeam encrypted data transmission, containing the submarine’s computer activity for the last thirty minutes, to our CROMWELL satellite network. Then the buoy self-destructs. The idea is that we’ll know how and why our boats went down.” The general sighed. “We’ve gotten such a transmission from the Glimmer. It’s remotely possible that it was a misfire of some kind, but the transmission itself suggests otherwise. It looks like Captain Burleigh just got unlucky. A New Edomite sub passed directly above him, he got spotted, and then the New Edomites torpedoed him. The Glimmer fired only after it had already been fired upon.”

“Shalmaneser checked with Rear Admiral Wright first, though,” Griffiths observed.

“And Wright responded more ambiguously than perhaps he should have,” Vandercreuse agreed, “but Shalmaneser still fired first.”

“Which is the only thing that those people out on the streets care about,” Maureen McConnell concluded.

Griffiths growled softly, deep in his throat. “What’s happening to Wright?”

“He’s being debriefed at Port Wessex,” Vandercreuse replied briefly. “He’s been stripped of command. There may or may not be grounds for a court martial; we’ll know in a few days.”

“Pahath-Moab is expecting us to try to hang all of the blame for this on him,” Amelia O’Donnell noted quietly. “That’s why he was so keen to try to lay responsibility on the whole Norvenian government – he was trying to keep us from wriggling out of the blame.”

Griffiths nodded slowly, absorbing this. Then he straightened as a thought came to him. “Amelia,” the chancellor asked, “what has the international response to this crisis been? Exactly, and especially from our allies.”

The foreign secretary smirked. “I’m sorry, sir, but: what allies?” Frederick Vandercreuse snorted bitterly, and Griffiths cast O’Donnell a cautionary glare. She sighed. “Frankly, sir, there’s been very little response at all. The Avalon Chronicle ran a surprisingly balanced story, and that’s about it. Other than the Anglicans, who have taken the opportunity to use this as a show of force.”

“Typical,” Vandercreuse snarled. “They talk about how they have special interests in Eastern Aurora and then send ships sailing directly into our historic sphere of influence. Tweedsmuir has done nothing but work to undermine Norvenian power since he was elected.”

“But he was elected,” Griffiths said heavily. “And that’s all that counts. It’s Albion’s alliance with Seahold that concerns me more. If a day comes when we have to kick the New Edomites off that island, and if the Grand Duchess refuses to let us, then Tweedsmuir will have to pick a side.” The chancellor shrugged wearily. “That will be a dangerous hour.”

For a moment, there was silence; Griffiths ran his hands over the old ship timbers of the Fortitude desk, his brow furrowed in thought. Finally, the chancellor let out a deep sigh and looked up. “Do you all remember what I said when we began this?”

There was another long moment of silence, and then Amelia O’Donnell caught her breath in understanding. “You said that we had to show Perrin that we are playing for keeps.”

“Exactly. And we are. If we back down now, we lose all credibility, all power to influence proceedings through the threat of our power. We will show the world that we are toothless and uncommitted, just like we’ve always been.” Griffiths shook his head. “We will not do that. I will set this country ablaze before I see it shirk from its mission again.”

Harry Sutherland closed his eyes as if that statement pained him, and Peter Sandberg shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek. But Frederick Vandercreuse took a deep breath and then squared his shoulders, nodding; Amelia O’Donnell nodded too, though she sighed deeply. Rebecca Kaminsky’s face wore a faint, cryptic smile; Maureen McConnell’s eyes blazed with determination.

“All right,” Griffiths said, his voice gaining strength. “Here’s what we’re going to do – today, while popular outrage is still strong and our position with the voters is good. We are going to inform our allies” – Griffiths glanced at O’Donnell – “excuse me, our democratic partners - that in light of New Edomite aggression against Norvenia, hostilities are likely to be immanent. Friendly democracies are advised to recommend all of their shipping to avoid the vicinity of the New Edomite fleet.”

“I’ll have my people send the messages,” O’Donnell agreed quietly.

“Then,” Griffiths continued, “we’re going to get every fleet we can – Sea Combat Element, Naval Interdiction Group, everything – and put them on a course to intercept Shalmaneser while he’s still in international waters. Frederick, can you make that happen?”

The general studied a tablet computer in his lap. “We can get the Central Aurora Naval Interdiction Group, the Rapid Response Naval Interdiction Group, and the Northeast Aurora Naval Interdiction Group on site, plus the Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group. The other Groups are too far away. And we can get the Sea Combat Elements of the Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Joint Task Forces into the fight. That’s” – Vandercreuse tapped at his tablet – “two light carriers, four supercarriers, six battleships, four cruisers, sixteen destroyers, four escort cruisers, eight air defense frigates, four anti-submarine frigates, twenty arsenal ships, and eight attack submarines.” Vandercreuse smiled grimly. “Well. Minus one submarine now. The total is close to half of all our naval strength. We’ll outnumber Shalmaneser by seventy-six warships to seventeen, with three hundred fighters to his seventy or so.”

“Good.” Griffiths nodded. “Get those fleets moving at top speed as soon as they’re fueled, supplied, and manned. I want to be in position to intercept Shalmenser as close to the Afrosian coast as possible. Let’s do the Anglicans a favor and try to keep this out of East Auroran waters.”

“It’ll cost an arm and a leg to keep that kind of a fleet at sea for any length of time,” Vandercreuse warned.

“It’ll cost more to lose a battle in Auroran waters,” Griffiths replied. “But we’ll have to deal with the economics of this too.” The chancellor nodded to himself, then turned back to Vandercreuse. “Frederick, cancel all recreational leave for all New Model Army personnel. Get every unit ready to deploy within forty-eight hours, twenty-four hours for naval units. And call the Reserves to Condition Two.” The general raised his eyebrows, but nodded. The Norvenian Reserves were called upon only when there was a genuine threat of invasion to the Norvenian homeland. Peter Sandberg bit the inside of his cheek again.

Griffiths continued, resolute. “Rebecca, raise the Terror Alert again. Level Four. If we have any assets in New Edom, put them on notice that it’s time to start preparing to raise hell. And tell the Shrailleeni rebels that we may soon be in a position where we have nothing to lose by direct support for their cause.” A rare, genuine smile flickered over Rebecca Kaminsky’s face, and she nodded.

“Amelia, after you send out those warning messages, start getting all Norvenian nationals out of Cornellia, ASAP.” Griffiths’ voice was urgent. “And make it very clear to our fellow democracies that we are responding to an unprovoked act of New Edomite aggression, acting to curtail further threats to Norvenian lives.” O’Donnell smiled thinly, and she inclined her head in assent.

“Now.” Griffiths turned to Harry Sutherland. “I understand that there is preexisting legislation that was written precisely for situations like this.”

Sutherland nodded. “The War Economics Act. It’s been rewritten every ten years to take account of the changing economy; in various forms, the legislature has passed it three times in Norvenian history.” Sutherland didn’t need to refer to his notes; his chirping voice was swift and confident. “In its current format, the Act creates a War Production Board, which has the power to directly and selectively regulate the costs of war-related materials. So the cost of carbon fiber, or of titanium, or of gallium arsenide will be lower for military contractors than for other companies – making sure that key resources get focused toward the war effort.”

“The Act also helps to pay for the cost of a war itself: it boosts the personal income tax rate on citizens making more than half a million talents per year, and increases sales tax rates on goods that are important to the war effort – petroleum is the most important example, but far from the only one. At the same time, the Act cuts corporate taxes on companies that manufacture military goods, and issues wavers on the increased sales taxes to people with jobs directly related to the war effort.”

“And the Act authorizes the sale of special low-interest war bonds.” Sutherland smiled. “Only in Norvenia would that still be an effective way to raise state funds, but we have every reason to believe that we can mobilize all sectors of society behind the bond drive; if the crowd out there is any indication, movie stars and musicians and sports players will be lining up to help us. We can use that money, and some of the funds from the taxes, to subsidize manufacturers’ transition to war-related production, and to support manufacturing workers’ wages in order to prevent labor unrest.”

“And this will work?” Griffiths asked bluntly.

“Mister Chancellor, this is a plan for total war,” Harry Sutherland replied simply. “Every skill, every resource, every man, every woman, every talent of cash will be funneled toward victory. Yes: it will work. We’ll be better organized on the home front than New Edom has ever been in its history.”

“And we can pass it?” Griffiths turned to Maureen McConnell.

The chief of staff laughed. “With those crowds out there on our side? This’ll get through the Commons on popular rage alone, and the Senate will pass it out of fear of the voters. It will pass.”

“Good.” Griffiths turned back to Vandercreuse. “Frederick, how are we doing on manpower?”

“We won’t draft, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vandercreuse replied. “Not if we can avoid it. We shouldn’t need to, either: recruiting stations are already reporting the biggest rush of volunteers since Death Saturday. Besides, Norvenian soldiers are trained for close to two years, and that level of expertise is key to our whole system. I don’t want to cut corners on training just in order to throw more bodies into the field.”

“The New Edomite military meaningfully outnumbers us,” Rebecca Kaminsky observed quietly.

“And half their land forces are semi-trained militia that they’re already trying to get rid of themselves.” Vandercreuse shook his head. “We have naval and air superiority, and we have land parity, in firepower if not in numbers. We’ll be fine, as long as volunteer rates remain high enough for us to replace combat losses.”

At this, Peter Sandberg finally flung up his hands. “Combat losses? I’m sorry, but when did the decision get made that we are going to war with New Edom?”

“When they fired first on a Norvenian military submarine,” Griffiths snapped. “That was an act of war, Peter. If we do nothing, we will never be able to fulfill our responsibilities to the world again.” Sandberg shook his head bitterly, and the chancellor’s eyes flashed with anger. “This is about Norvenia’s place on this Earth!” Griffiths slammed the wood of his desk with the palm of his hand. “I will not be the chancellor under whom this Commonwealth chose to run in fear from tyrants.”

Sandberg shook his head again. “I am not sure that I can follow you in this, Malcolm.”

“That is between you and your conscience,” the chancellor replied briefly. “Whatever your decision, I will respect it.”

“But the man does raise a good point,” Frederick Vandercreuse observed. “How exactly are we planning to fight this war?”

Griffiths nodded. “This is a defensive war,” he explained. “New Edom is the aggressor. They sent a fleet into our region and sank one of our submarines. We are defending ourselves. So we are going to give them twenty-four hours to withdraw their fleet from Aurora, on the grounds that it has already committed an act of war against Norvenia and its continued presence represents a direct threat of further aggression against this Commonwealth. If conflict ensues, then it is on Perrin’s head, not on mine.”

“For our part, we use those twenty-four hours to get our fleets into position.” Vandercreuse nodded, and Griffiths continued: “If the New Edomites don’t withdraw, then we hit them with everything we’ve got, before help can arrive from Cornellia. We win big, and early. Then we fight defensively, in the air and at sea, to keep New Edom out of Aurora. They’re expecting us to launch an expeditionary force, to overextend our supply lines. We are going to disappoint them.”

“They won’t yield just because we keep kicking them out of Aurora,” Vandercreuse growled.

“No,” Griffiths agreed. “But it gives us a sustainable position from which to exploit opportunities as they appear. Like in Shrailleen: we can send an expeditionary force there, to an isolated corner of Cornellia where New Edomite supply lines will be almost as long as our own. We finally give the rebels the support they deserve, rob New Edom of a key ally, and create a friendly democracy in Cornellia at last. And with a full-blown war of their own in Damoclea, I doubt the Edomites will be able to spare the forces to oppose us effectively.”

Vandercreuse shook his head wearily. “Going to war without a clear objective – I’m not sure I like this either, sir.”

“Our objective is to keep New Edomite forces out of this region and unable to do further harm to this Commonwealth.” Griffiths shook his head. “A defensive war, Frederick, like I said.”

“The Mother Empress may not agree,” Rebecca Kaminsky remarked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s between the two of us,” Griffiths replied with a grim smile.

“This could be a long war,” Vandercreuse warned. “Long, and costly, and bloody. Perrin will not yield easily. He expects us to fold in a matter of weeks, like everyone else who has attacked New Edom – but we won’t collapse either. This – this won’t be a limited war, sir, not like Underium. It will be a total war.”

Griffiths nodded. “And that’s what we’re preparing for, Frederick. That’s what we’re reorienting the economy toward, and reshaping our diplomacy to accommodate. We didn’t start this fight, but if Perrin does not back down, then we will pour every life and every talent into ending it.”

“But is it worth it?” Peter Sandberg cried. “For one submarine? Is it really worth it?”

There was a long silence. Every eye in the room was fixed on Griffiths. And finally, the chancellor shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied simply. “But I know that, worth it or not, we don’t have any other options. If we will not fight to defend ourselves, then we might as well sign over our constitution to Perrin and his ilk here and now. If you are hit, you hit back, or the bullies will never stop hitting you.” Griffiths smiled sadly. “True on the playground. True on the battlefield. True here. I don’t know whether it’s worth it, Peter. But it’s what we have to do.”

Peter Sandberg shook his head, and put his face in his hands. Griffiths sighed. From outside the window, the furious chanting could still, just barely, be heard.

“Well,” Malcolm Griffiths said quietly, “thank you all for your time. We all have a lot of work to do, so I won’t keep you further.” The chancellor smiled. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a speech to write.”

[Norvenia]

Capitol Building
Astor-of-Stone
Commonwealth of Norvenia

The chamber that housed the Norvenian Senate was a curiously humble space. It was fairly small; the Senate had only thirty-six members, after all, and so there was no need for a cavernous room. But the Senate chamber was also beautiful. A classic example of Norvenian Romanesque, its walls rose in galleries of thick pillars and squat arches, constructed of gleaming white limestone and deep bronze-colored granite. The floor, beneath the mahogany desks of the senators, was inlaid with a mosaic of marble in black and white and deep blue, the colors of the Norvenian flag, all held in place by filaments of gleaming bronze. And the vaulted ceiling bore a mosaic also: a stylized image of men and women and children, from every race and creed and people and nation, all reaching out toward a torch that burned at the very apex of the vault. Around the perimeter of the vault, in bronze letters, a simple message was embossed: “That Liberty Might Endure.”

It was here that Malcolm Griffiths made his speech. In part, that was because he needed the Senate to pass the War Economics Act, and so it did no harm to butter up the senators. In part, he made his speech in the Senate chamber because it was the traditional place where Norvenia went to war. And in part, he made his speech in the Senate chamber because the Senate represented, more deeply even than Chancellor House, the democratic mission that gave Norvenia its purpose as a nation.

Standing at a lectern at the front of the chamber, flanked by two battle-torn old Norvenian flags, Griffiths took a deep breath. The senators watched him, silently, men and women of all races from four parties; around the legislators, news crews managed their humming cameras. This speech would be watched by a hundred million Norvenians, and who knew how many more souls throughout the world. Griffiths took a deep breath, and cast his eyes up to the vault of the chamber. That Liberty Might Endure. Yes. Yes indeed.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate,” Griffiths began, and his voice was clear and strong. “Honored members. My fellow Norvenians. Citizens of Aurora, and of Cornellia, and of the world. It is my solemn duty to inform you that on May 27, naval and air forces associated with Carrier Group Teman of the New Edomite National Navy fired upon and sank the Norvenian military submarine CNS Glimmer in international waters in the Afrosian Sea.”

“The Glimmer was sailing in close proximity to the New Edomite fleet in international waters, and it had undertaken no aggressive actions. Rear Admiral Nehemiah Wright, our commander, refused either to confirm or to deny the Glimmer’s affiliation, and his actions are currently under review. But the basic fact remains that New Edomite forces chose to fire, unprovoked, upon a Norvenian warship in international waters. And now sixty-two Norvenian sailors, heroes and heroines of this nation, are dead.”

“In the wake of this atrocity, the New Edomite regime has attempted to paint the murder of these men and women as a natural outcome of this government’s policies.” There was a murmur of fury in the chamber, and Griffiths smiled grimly. “But we all know who the aggressor here truly is. It was not this Commonwealth that sent a fleet of warships flying the banners of tyranny into a free region – a fleet bearing a mighty army capable of invading our homes! It was not this Commonwealth that opened fire, unprovoked, on foreign warships in international waters! And it was not this Commonwealth that then tried to lay the blame for its aggression on the victims of that atrocity!”

Griffiths shook his head. ”No – we are not the aggressors here, my friends. But we will not yield to those who are. We will not bow to men who murder our sailors on the high seas. We will not yield to warlords who respect neither law, nor freedom, nor the flag for which the people of this Commonwealth have sacrificed so much. We will not back down in the face of an expansionist tyranny that has come into our region and killed our sons and our daughters. No! We will not yield!”

The chancellor’s gaze swept around the room, and his voice dropped low. “In sinking the CNS Glimmer without provocation and in international waters, the armed forces of Perrin Pahath-Moab’s illegal regime have committed an act of war against this Commonwealth. Under international law, this Commonwealth has been at war with New Edom since May 27, though not by our choice. But because I understand the great love which the Norvenian people bear for peace, I will give General Pahath-Moab twenty-four hours in which to avoid the bloodshed which his actions have caused.”

Griffiths turned his full attention to the cameras and spoke directly to their lenses. “General, withdraw your fleet from Auroran waters immediately. Your forces have demonstrated that they have no compunction about sinking Norvenian warships, and their presence in this region therefore represents a direct act of aggression against this Commonwealth. You have twenty-four hours to cease this aggression by withdrawing your forces from Aurora.”

“If you do not withdraw the fleet, in light of the sinking of the Glimmer, I can only conclude that you intend to continue the war of aggression against Norvenia which you have already begun.” Griffiths’ gaze was unwavering on the cameras. “I will not allow you to threaten this Commonwealth, its soldiers and sailors, or its people. If your fleet does not reverse course and begin to leave Aurora in twenty-four hours, then it will never reach Seahold. It will be destroyed, and so will any other New Edomite forces to enter this region. There will be war to the knife until you accept that the forces of foreign tyranny will never have a place in this region.”

Griffiths turned from the cameras to look directly at the Senators. “My fellow Norvenians, if our foes refuse to leave us in peace, then we will have to fight to stop more acts of aggression like the sinking of the Glimmer. And I must speak truth: this may be a long war. It will be a hard war. There may be many months or even years of fiery trial and sacrifice ahead of us. Our lives will all change.”

“I ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, to pass the War Economics Act; I ask the same of you, my fellow Norvenians, through the Commons. I ask all of you to begin saving your money through the purchase of war bonds. In both of these ways, we must all accept the financial burden of supporting our armed forces in their struggle to defend us against tyrannical aggression.”

“I ask those of you who are of military age and who are able-bodied to serve your country in uniform, for we may soon be forced to buy our freedom with our blood, and we will have no choice but to replace those men and women who will fall beneath God’s battle banner.”

“Above all, I ask you all to understand that if General Pahath-Moab refuses to cease his aggression, then this Commonwealth is in a fight for its very survival, and we must all accept great hardship and sacrifice in order to preserve the liberties which have made this nation great. We will have to learn to go without many comforts, and we will have to bear in mind in our every action that our nation is locked in a desperate struggle for the survival of those values which have made it great.”

Griffiths straightened, and the weariness of months seemed to fall away from him as his eyes, alight with passion, moved over the Senate chamber. “And so it is a sad duty, my friends, which I have performed in thus addressing you. Would that I could spare you the fire and blood into which the aggression of tyrants seems ready to plunge this nation! It is a fearful thing to lead this great peaceful nation into a fierce and terrible war, though I have no doubt that the righteous might of the Norvenian people can and shall win through to absolute victory.”

“But the right is more precious than peace!” Griffiths’ voice rang hard and clear against the marble walls of the Senate chamber. “And so we shall fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts - for democracy, for the rights and liberties which belong by nature to every human being, for the mighty traditions of freedom and justice on which this nation was founded, for a universal dominion of righteousness that shall bring peace to all nations and make the whole world at long last free.”

“To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, all that our fathers have given us and all that we treasure for our sons. We can give it all for our liberty, and for the freedom of the world, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when Norvenia is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and purpose in this world.” Griffiths paused, and the chamber was utterly silent; tears streaked the faces of a dozen Senators, and more than a few cameramen. The chancellor nodded, and spread his hands. “God helping us,” he concluded, “we can do no other.”

[Norvenia]

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF NORVENIA

To: The Government of the Democratic Republic of the Cookish States; the Government of the Celestial Empire of Mizuyuki; the Government of the United Republic of Bratoslovoukia; the Government of the Crown Commonwealth of Regnum Albion; the Government of the Kingdom of Afalia; the Government of the Republic of Lanos; the Government of the Federal Republic of Zanborian; the Government of the Republic of Aurinsula; the Government of the Republic of Adiron; the Government of the Republic of L’Ossienne; the Government of the Voluntary Free Zone of Thesum; the Government of the Republic of Gylias; the Government of the Federal Democratic Republic of United Valik; the Government of the Confederation of Jedoria; the Government of the Democratic Republic of Grossprussia; the Government of the Republic of Dengali; the Government of the Democratic Republic of Dahamy; the Government of the Kingdom of Izzyshipper; the Government of the Grand Duchy of Wielkilas; the Government of the Principality of Lazodiria; the Government of the Kingdom of Cacerta; the Government of the Kingdom of Nordkrusen
From: The Government of the Commonwealth of Norvenia
Re.: Immanent Possible Hostilities between New Edom and Norvenia
Encryption: Level V

This government can now confirm that on Tuesday, 27 May 2014, naval and air forces associated with Carrier Group Teman of the New Edomite National Navy fired upon and sank the Norvenian military submarine CNS Glimmer. The Glimmer was sailing in close proximity to the New Edomite fleet in international waters, and it had undertaken no aggressive actions. Rear Admiral Nehemiah Wright, to whose Afrosia Naval Interdiction Group the Glimmer belonged, refused either to confirm or to deny the Glimmer’s affiliation. His actions are currently under internal review. But the basic fact remains that New Edomite forces chose to fire, unprovoked, upon a Norvenian warship in international waters. Because of that action, sixty-two Norvenian lives have been lost.

The New Edomite attack upon Norvenian naval forces represents a wanton act of aggression against this Commonwealth. It was an act of war. The attack violated the law of the seas, and all conventions of peaceful behavior between nations. It demonstrated a total willingness to kill Norvenian citizens, soldiers, and sailors without the justification of self-defense. That willingness represents a lethal and ongoing threat to the security of the Commonwealth of Norvenia.

In response to this threat, this government has given New Edomite forces twenty-four hours to withdraw from Aurora. If they do so, then we will conclude that New Edom’s act of aggression was an aberration, the error in judgment of a specific commander. If New Edomite forces do not withdraw from Aurora, then we can only conclude that the Fineberg regime intends to continue in the unprovoked murder of Norvenian sailors.

We will not allow that to occur. If General Pahath-Moab refuses to cease his aggression, then Norvenian forces will act to defend this Commonwealth from further unprovoked attacks like the one which destroyed the Glimmer. In twenty-four hours, if New Edomite forces have not begun to leave Aurora, then a state of war will exist between the Commonwealth of Norvenia and the regime of Perrin Pahath-Moab - and the Norvenian armed forces will take immediate action to defend this Commonwealth from New Edomite aggression.

There may be some who say that this war represents a return to Norvenian unilateralism. It does not. This Commonwealth was attacked. When a nation is attacked, it has a right – and, indeed, an obligation – to defend itself. If Norvenia must fight alone, then we will do so. But we hope that our many democratic friends and partners around the world will see that this is not a war of moralizing intervention or of unsolicited meddling. It is a war of self-defense.

If any of you, the elected leaders who read this letter, feel moved to honor us with your support in our effort to defend our country – then your aid would be more than welcome. If you feel that such aid is not within your power to grant – then we understand and respect your decision, and we look forward to consulting with you as to how we can work together in other ways, even as we fight to repel the forces that have already murdered sixty-two young Norvenians. Above all, we welcome your advice, your counsel, and your wisdom in this terrible time. We will never again turn away the guidance of others, even in our hour of uttermost need.

We are obliged to counsel you that all shipping is now advised to avoid New Edomite naval forces in Aurora at all costs; the last thing that this Commonwealth wants is for innocents to be caught in the crossfire if Mr. Pahath-Moab refuses to cease his aggression. Please advise all vessels carrying cargo or persons associated with your nations to maintain at least a five-hundred-kilometer distance from all New Edomite naval vessels in Auroran waters. This government intends to make this warning known on its own initiative, but we also hope that you will all help us in urging civilian ships and aircraft to avoid what may soon be an active area of military operations. If nothing else, I think that we can all agree that the protection of innocent lives should be a priority for all of us.

In this hour of great tension and confusion, this government is ready to respond to any questions or concerns that you may have; equally, we welcome any counsel and guidance that you can give us. There is still some hope that Mr. Pahath-Moab may reject the murderous aggression of his forces in Aurora, and by withdrawing those forces spare us all a cruel and terrible war. I will pray for that; so, I hope, will many of you. But regardless of the outcome of the next twenty-four hours, I have been honored to correspond with so many of you, and I hope that I shall continue to have the opportunity to do so – in peacetime or in wartime – for many years to come.

With highest regards,


The Hon. Amelia O'Donnel
Foreign Secretary of the Commonwealth of Norvenia

COMMUNIQUE ENDS

[Norvenia]

The Commonwealth of Norvenia

Afterwards, everyone remembered how swiftly the Commonwealth mobilized for war. It seemed to happen practically overnight.

* * *

The Senate passed the War Economics Act within hours of Griffiths’ speech. The Christian Socialists joined forces with Prosperity Party moderates to form a majority of almost three-quarters of the Senate. A rump of hard-right Prosperity Party senators formed an alliance of convenience with the hard-left Green Party to put up a token show of opposition, but the outcome of the vote was never in doubt. With footage of Griffiths’ speech still playing on every television screen, the Commons were swamped with online “yea” votes; within six hours, the legislation went to Malcolm Griffiths’ desk and was signed into law. The Norvenian people, certain that they were under immanent attack, chose to make those sacrifices which their government asked of them.

At the same time, hundreds of thousands of New Model Army troopers who were home on leave between tours of duty found themselves called back to the colors. In the small town of Parkford, outside Fastness, Sergeant Anders Bell was playing with his nephews behind their little whitewashed house when the call came. Three days before, he had gotten leave from his long deployment to Fort Unity in the Cookish States. Now, his mother appeared in the back door of his family home with a telephone in her hand and fear in her eyes. Three hours later, Anders Bell was back in NORVPAT and on a specially chartered airliner back to Fort Unity, alongside hundreds of other troopers whose leave had been abruptly cancelled.

The next morning, Anders Bell’s father got a telephone call of his own. The Reserves – Norvenia’s militia – had been called to full alert. Peter Bell got his FN FAL out of the locked gun case in his closet, and headed off to the Parkford town green where about a thousand other men and women – short and tall, black and white, doctors and farmers – were gathering with their own weapons to train to resist an invasion. The old man spent the next four hours firing at rusted pop-up targets, filling sandbags, and practicing house-to-house tactics with the nine other members of his squad. He met three of those men – Jim Mitchell, Saul Everett, and Bob Henderson - every Thursday night anyway, to play poker. Around noon, Peter’s wife and Saul Everett’s sons brought pink lemonade and ham sandwiches out to the hot and tired Reservists.

* * *

Almost two thousand miles away, in the high-tech metropolis of Edwardstown, the First Edwardstown Regiment of Heavy Horse took to the streets for a parade. The First Edwardstown was part of the First Joint Task Force, the “Pioneers”; they were responsible for defending the Norvenian homeland. In battle, they used mighty Panthera Leo main battle tanks and Sorcha heavy infantry fighting vehicles. Today, though, they had left their armored vehicles back at the depot.

For this parade was not about the power of technology; it was about the power of a fighting spirit. The five thousand men and women of the First Edwardstown marched ten abreast town James Edwards Avenue in the center of the city, clad in black dress uniforms trimmed in white and gold. Faded, bullet-torn battle banners led every battalion and every company. Thirty thousand men, women, and children had turned out along the First Edwardstown’s route, and children clung to lampposts or sat upon their parents’ shoulders to catch a glimpse of the troopers. The gleaming skyscrapers of modern Edwardstown, spires of steel and glass, were draped in swathes of gold-trimmed fabric of blue and black and white that stretched for hundreds of feet. Confetti rained from the sky; bagpipes skirled in the morning air. A current of excitement, electric and inexplicable, swept through the thousands of onlookers and brought tears to eyes, and sweat to brows, and passionate pride to hearts. And as the ranks of men and women in uniform, their faces set and stern, filed by in endless sequence, a fierce song arose from the waiting crowds:

We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true, and brave,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
And although they may be poor, not a man shall be a slave,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!

The Dream, friends, forever! The Dream, friends, hurrah!
Unbowed and unbroken, we follow our star!
As we rally round the flag, friends, rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!

* * *

Returning home from a similar parade a thousand miles north of Edwardstown, Abacem real estate agent Nancy Okoro was still humming the verses of “Battle Cry of Freedom” to herself when she got off the streetcar in her neighborhood of neat little stone houses. Nancy had sold many of those houses herself, but there was one lot for which she had never found a buyer; it had never even been built on, that plot of land, and it lay fallow amid the carefully trimmed flowerbeds of the surrounding homes.

Now, dozens of men and women and children were working on that empty lot. Wheelbarrows of earth rolled to and fro; children dragged pails and watering cans to waiting adults; men knelt in the dirt with soil coating their arms to the elbows. Nancy saw one of her neighbors, a law clerk named James Parker. She asked him what was happening, and he pointed with a smile to the sign that now stood at the entrance to the vacant lot. Pierce Avenue Victory Garden, the sign announced, and then, in smaller letters: Courtesy of Cooper & Sons, Real Estate. James Parker chuckled. “Sales tax on vegetables is going to go up because of the War Economics Act,” he explained. “We thought we’d grow our own; save more for the troops, you know?”

“Yeah.” Nancy Okongo nodded. “Yeah, sure. How can I help?”

Parker reached down and grabbed the shoulders of Kelly Shaw’s little boy, steering him toward his mother, who was digging with a trowel. Then he cast an appraising eye at Nancy Okoro. “Do you have any tomato seeds?”

By the end of the day, the vacant lot had been sowed with enough vegetables to feed the neighborhood for a year. James Parker brought out a bottle of hard cider, and the adults sat around and talked about who they knew in the New Model Army, and what they had heard of New Edom, and where you could find heirloom vegetable seeds for the lowest price. And they watched the sun set over the new Victory Garden.

* * *

A few dozen miles southwest of Abacem, in the suburb of Greendale, George Hubert was helping his daughter Jane with her math homework when a knock came at the door. The account manager left Jane struggling with her long division, and headed to the entrance to his home, wondering whether a lawn chair that he had ordered had chanced to arrive early. But instead of the postman, George Hubert found four gangly teenagers on his doorstep, lugging a wheelbarrow filled with shiny metal cans. One of the kids, a pretty lass whom George recognized as the daughter of June Lawrence over on Tulip Circle, smiled brightly. “Hello, Mister Hubert,” she chirped. “We were wondering if you had any spare aluminum that you could spare. For the war effort, you see. Chancellor Griffiths says that every civilian family has to be a ‘fighting unit on the home front.’”

George Hubert looked at the Lawrence girl, at the wheelbarrow, and back into the kitchen where his daughter was still scribbling away at her worksheets. A fighting unit on the home front. Hubert swallowed hard, and nodded. “Let me see what I’ve got. Come on in.”

In the next half hour, George Hubert found that he had almost thirty old beer cans, a few baking trays that he never used anymore, and a bicycle that he was always intending to ride but never did. All were made of aluminum. The teenagers carried it all out and put it in their wheelbarrow, or in the bed of a pickup truck that one of them was driving. “Thank you so much,” said the Lawrence girl, whose name turned out to be Petra. “Our school is having a drive to see who can collect the most. You wouldn’t believe the things that the Army uses aluminum for.”

George Hubert smiled. “Come back tomorrow,” he said, “and I’ll have a lawn chair frame for you, too.”

Petra Lawrence grinned, and trotted back over to the truck. In the end, she and her classmates gathered more than two hundred kilograms of scrap aluminum that day, picking Greendale clean. And they would come back, with their wheelbarrow and their battered old pickup, every Saturday thereafter for a long time to come.

* * *

Far away from suburban Greendale, the windswept coastal city of North Watch at the edge of the Great North Wood saw a bit of excitement that its residents had never expected. The day after Malcolm Griffiths gave his ultimatum to Perrin Pahath-Moab, posters suddenly appeared all over town announcing a same-day concert by none other than the famous Annie Sullivan, one of Norvenia’s best-known folk singers. Better still, the concert was free – though anyone who attended was asked to buy a war bond. “Save your money, save your nation, save your freedom!” announced the posters. North Watchers were a cynical lot by Norvenian standards, hard-bitten fishermen and lumber mill workers, but they strolled down to the open-air concert on the waterfront all the same – because when else were they going to get the opportunity to hear Annie Sullivan live?

Well, it was a bit of a makeshift event: sound systems flung together from whatever was available, the stage raised from rough-hewn lumber straight from the mill two blocks down the street. But close to ten thousand men, women, and children crowded into the big waterfront park all the same, watching from the steps of nearby buildings and from the fishing boats bobbing alongside piers behind the stage. And when Annie Sullivan began to sing, accompanied only by a piano, the audience found itself confronted by a song that they had all heard before, but that it seemed that they had never truly understood until this moment:

All we've been given by those who came before
The dream of a nation where freedom would endure
The work and prayers of centuries have brought us to this day
What shall be our legacy? What will our children say?

Let them say of me I was one who believed
In sharing the blessings I received.
Let me know in my heart when my days are through
Norvenia, Norvenia, I gave my best to you.

That was the concert: one song. And when Annie Sullivan stood up from her piano and bowed to the mill workers and fishermen who filled the twilight park, there was scarcely a dry cheek in all of her audience. That night, the people of North Watch purchased more than a million talents’ worth of war bonds.

* * *

At another seaside community at the other end of Norvenia, Wrenwatch socialite Bronwyn Mallory had a very different experience. Silverrock was a small, expensive, exclusive village on the eastern coast of the island of Caritas, a place where the Wrenwatch elite like the Mallorys owned elegant summer homes beside the rocky beach. But Silverrock’s peace was abruptly shattered when a gruff, middle-aged man in NORVPAT began marching from door to door with a clipboard, demanding to know whether the village’s residents knew where their municipal disaster shelter was located.

“Yes,” Bronwyn Mallory told the soldier, frustrated. “It’s underneath the dance pavilion over at LaRoche’s Brasserie. Gas-proofed and everything. Army engineers came over here and built it after Death Saturday.”

The sergeant nodded approvingly and went on his way. Bronwyn Mallory thought that her village’s part in the preparations for war had ended with his departure.

She was wrong. The next day, a half-dozen military flatbed trucks, loaded with missiles the length of a trailer, rolled into Silverrock. Almost a hundred New Model Army troopers, their uniforms emblazoned with the insignia of the Fourth Coastal Defense Regiment, began using construction equipment to dig trenches in which the trucks would be partially hidden, and then pulled multispectrum camouflage netting over the dug-in vehicles. One of Bronwyn Mallory’s neighbors, a bank president who had spent a few years as a bomber pilot in his youth, told her that the trucks were carrying anti-ship ballistic missiles and Skyguard air defense missiles. Listening to him, Mallory realized for the first time that Silverrock was one of the easternmost points in Norvenia.

“If there is a war,” she asked the knowledgeable neighbor worriedly, “it won’t really come here, will it?”

The neighbor scoffed and shook his head, and Bronwyn Mallory smiled and invited him inside for sherry. But she never forgot the look of fear in that man’s eyes as he turned to look at where the dug-in Skyguard batteries waited, hidden.

* * *

The city of Mercy Beach lay just across the channel of ocean that separated Caritas from mainland Norvenia, but it was as different a place from Silverrock as could be imagined. Poor, overwhelmingly made up of first-generation immigrants, Mercy Beach had become the center of Norvenian industry since the destruction of Zion City during Death Saturday. Every day, Maria Gonzalez showed up to work at the FutureForge Corporation’s gigantic factory complex in Mercy Beach, producing high-performance automobile and aircraft components. The factory used a process called “Resin Transfer Molding,” in which steel vacuum-molds allowed low-pressure injection of polymers, creating larger, stronger products in an inexpensive and easily modified fashion. The whole process was computerized; Maria Gonzales’ job was to supervise the quality control computer that scanned each finished component and compared it against a 3-D model of the mold that had created it. If there was a discrepancy, the computer notified Gonzales, who ran diagnostics and used the irreplaceable problem-solving capacity of the human mind to figure out what had gone wrong.

But when Maria Gonzales arrived at work the morning after Malcolm Griffiths’ speech, she found herself summoned, alongside all of the other factory employees, to a meeting room. There, the factory’s superintendent explained that FutureForge would no longer be manufacturing civilian automobile or aircraft components. Instead, the entire Mercy Beach facility would be repurposed to manufacture the more than 350 Resin Transfer Molded components of the LY910 Shadowhawk air superiority fighter. Not only that, but the factory would be expanding. “We have a government grant with which to fund this transition,” the superintendent explained. “Don’t worry: your jobs will all be safe. But your hours may get longer, and you’ll have to go through some retraining in order to better understand the new products which we’ll be manufacturing.” The slim Anglo nodded to a big Songhian-Norvenian floor chief. “We have discussed this with the union, and they have no objections.”

“Our country needs us,” rumbled the Songhian union representative. “This country has been good to us. We must do what we can to protect it.”

There was nothing much that anyone could say to that, and so the meeting broke up soon afterwards. Maria Gonzalez spent the next few days learning the most common flaws and errors in RTM-manufactured stealth aircraft parts, so that she could run the proper diagnostics and recalibrate the injectors in the shortest possible time. By the time she returned to the factory floor, the new molds for LY910 parts had already been installed, and a whole new set of RTM facilities had been added in a side wing that had been unused since the 1980s. Suddenly there were people everywhere – and the hours were longer, and the work was more complex, and there were days when Maria Gonzalez could curse the new products with their ultrafine tolerances and their ultra-precise curves.

But as the factory buzzed with activity – purposeful, highly-trained, and utterly dedicated – Maria Gonzalez also felt, for the first time, that she was a part of something much larger than herself. Wars Are Won On The Home Front, a banner over the FutureForge factory entrance reminded the corporation’s employees – and for her part, Maria Gonzalez entirely believed it. She knew that if there was war, then it would be won not only on the battlefield, but also in the vast halls of Norvenia’s factories: in the unflinching dedication with which those factories had been repurposed toward war production, and in the devotion and skill of their workers. Maria Gonzalez was a part of that victory – a small part, perhaps, but an important one. And she was proud.

* * *

In the conservative western city of Salem, thousands of Norvenian men and women answered Malcolm Griffiths’ call for young people to enlist in the New Model Army in order to replace the expected Norvenian casualties. Most were shipped off to training centers in the Norvenian mountains as quickly as possible, there to begin their eighteen months of training. In two days, most people between the ages of twenty and twenty-five seemed to vanish from the streets of Salem. The question on everyone’s lips became: “What camp is your son at? Where is your daughter being trained?”

Jennifer Greene, a student at Salem Regional University, was one of the few young people who remained in town. Her poor eyesight disqualified her for military service; instead, she began to volunteer with the Armed Forces Support Service, the nationwide organization that organized programs, services, and entertainment for troopers and their families. The AFSS, too, exploded in size within hours of Griffiths’ speech; at times, it seemed to Jennifer that everyone in Salem was either volunteering for the New Model Army or volunteering for the AFSS.

It was a good thing, too, for the Support Service had plenty to do. Every volunteer heading off to training got a Bible, a prepaid cell phone, and a utility knife hastily engraved with his name. Jennifer Greene found herself down at the train station every morning, handing out those little gift bags, thanking her neighbors and classmates for their service as they set out to a new life. And with every old friend who bade her farewell, Jennifer felt a weight settle a little deeper into her gut.

Eventually, she took her concerns to the Reverend Claudia Hatfield, the Reformed Apostolic priest who had baptized Jennifer twenty-two years before and who had watched over her ever since. The old woman was another AFSS volunteer, a coordinator: she was always on the phone wrangling with satellite telephone companies over reduced rates for New Model Army trainees. Jennifer waited until Claudia had finished her conversation – the priest got her way, as she usually did – and then said: “I should be out there.”

Claudia sighed, and nodded. She laid one hand gently on Jennifer’s. “Maybe,” she agreed, “but you’re not. And remember: our boys and girls still need something to come home too.”

Jennifer took off her thick glasses, and gazed bitterly at them. “It’s not fair.”

“God has put you here for a reason, Jennifer,” the priest said gently. “God put me here for a reason too. God sent your friends off to the Army for a reason as well.” Claudia squeezed Jennifer’s hand. “Trust the plan, dear.”

Jennifer took a deep breath and nodded jerkily. And then she picked up another box of Bibles and cell phones and badly engraved pocket knives, and set off back toward the train station.

* * *

Many thousands of miles away, at Fort Deliverance in the Republic of Aurinsula, tens of thousands of Norvenian soldiers were bidding farewell to their loved ones and families. They knew that they were to sail, some of them within hours. And so the restaurants and bars and nightclubs that surrounded the gigantic Norvenian base were suddenly filled with troopers and their girlfriends and their boyfriends and their wives and their husbands, and softly crooning music filled the darkened streets.

Captain Ben Tanner was an F-29 Warrior pilot on board the CNS Chrysostom, attached to the Fifth Joint Task Force out of Fort Deliverance. He was twenty-nine years old, unmarried, the son of divorced parents from Long Landing. Ben had already been deployed to Aurinsula for almost a year. He liked Fort Deliverance; it was a bizarre and wonderful mix of cultures. You could find Norvenian movie theaters and burger joints next door to Tinchalian opera houses and noodle stands. And, of course, there was Li Mei, a twenty-six year old nurse at a local hospital with whom Ben had been stepping out for the last six months. It had started as a fling; there was something liberating about being able to just see a girl without having the whole neighborhood looking over your shoulder, wondering if she was really wife material. But Mei was beautiful, and brilliant, and Ben had found himself falling for her. He started thinking about a job in Aurinsulan civilian aviation, after his term of service was up.

The order to sail came with twelve hours’ notice. Ben called Mei, and they went out to get noodles at the food stand where they had first met. Then the couple went to a warehouse on the grounds of Fort Deliverance that had been turned into a makeshift music hall by the Watchmen of the Sixth JTF. A bunch of civilian contractors, deployed with the Task Force, had set up a simple bandstand, and they were crooning an old classic: All My Loving.

The dance floor was a sea of NORVPAT: troopers dancing with each other, with Norvenian civilians, with Aurinsulans. Ben took Mei’s small hand in his, and led her out onto the dance floor. She laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes, and their feet moved slowly in unison. And though there were hundreds of other soldiers in that bare warehouse, Ben Tanner could almost imagine that he was alone with the woman whom he now knew that he loved.

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you
Tomorrow I'll miss you
Remember I'll always be true.
And then while I'm away
I'll write home every day
And I'll send all my loving to you.

The voice of the singer, a computer systems engineer with a crystal-clear tenor, floated out across the hall. Ben was certain, for a moment, that Mei was about to say something – but then she just sighed very softly. Ben stroked her hair, and said nothing either. They swayed together to the music, and they kept silence together.

All my loving I will send to you.
All my loving, darling I'll be true.

When the song was over, Ben Tanner said, very quietly, “I have to go.”

Mei nodded and touched his face with a sad smile. “I’ll be waiting,” she told him.

“Then I’ll come back,” Ben said, and kissed her.

Nine hours later, Ben Tanner treasured the memory of that kiss as he watched the sun rise over the Mesaston Sea from the flight deck of the CNS Chrysostom. Twenty Norvenian warships were sailing at top speed out of the massive harbor of Fort Deliverance, and they filled the ocean as far as the eye could see. The fleet was bound for a rendezvous with fifty-six other warships at a point in the middle of the East Auroran Ocean about a thousand kilometers off the coast of Afrosia. That place was marked on Norvenian maps as the Turquoise Deeps. There, the New Model Army would make ready to intercept Carrier Group Teman, if the New Edomites refused to turn around. There, Ben Tanner would face battle. There, unless Perrin Pahath-Moab chose to yield, the war would begin at last.

[The Republic of Lanos]

National Broadcasting System
Lanos National News
Freedom, Democracy, Justice!

BREAKING NEWS
Norvenia goes after New Edom Fleet over submarine
War measures being taken

Live from our Astor-of-Stone news bureau, we have our Norvenia correspondent Alan Lynch. Alan.

Ladies and gentlemen, I and our crew here in Astor are making preparations in the event of conflict as, this just crossing the wires now, that the Norvenians are going after New Edom forces in Aurora, where reportedly a Norvenian submarine CNS Glimmer was sunk shadowing a New Edom fleet in international waters of the Afrosian Sea. From the information we have received, the submarine badly damaged an Edomite cruiser before it was sunk. The Norvenian Senate has voted to pass their War Economics Act and from what we can observe here in Astor is that the populace is taking to a war economy footing with civilians preparing for war in all possible areas. Just to recap, a Norvenian submarine was sunk in the Afrosian Sea while Norvenia has declared its intent to go after the New Edom fleet responsible. Back to Keinsteinem.

This is just crossing the wires in our HQ too. President Aruthyan has issued a recall of all active forces to their bases while ordering reserve force personnel to active duty. All peacekeepers deployed are being recalled home at this time. Reservists across Lanos are being told to maintain a state of readiness in the event hostilities break out against Lanos as it is reported now civil defense measures are being passed out to civilians to carry out in Lanos and war measures are being taken by the government. It is being recommended at this time that Lanosians check their bomb shelters and stockpiles now before it would be too late.

We don't know at this time the expected reactions from those in Cornellia or the rest of the region here in Aurora but political reactions at home are muted, if not spoken at all. We can see from congressional and government officials here in the National Capital District that there was no general comment on the matter until after the President gives a statement on the matter We will present that statement when it comes.

Stay tuned.

[Jedoria]

NORVENIA THREATENS WAR AGAINST NEW EDOM

Speaking from the Capital Building in Astor-of-Stone, Norvenia, Commonwealth Chancellor Griffiths announced that unless the New Edomite Task Force currently sailing through Auroran waters changes course and leaves the region, a state of war will exist between the Commonwealth of Norvenia, and the Allied States of New Edom. This proclamation, just days after it was announced that a Norvenian submarine was sunk in Auroran waters by the Edomite naval force, effectively caps off the rising tension that has been building in both Aurora and Cornellia over these past weeks.

Claiming that "New Edomite forces chose to fire, unprovoked, upon a Norvenian warship in international waters. And now sixty-two Norvenian sailors, heroes and heroines of this nation, are dead.”", Chancellor Griffiths also urged the Norvenian senate to pass the War Economics Act, a piece of legislation that turns the Norvenian economy into a war driven machine. Included in his speech was Griffith's appeal to the Norvenian people to both enlist and purchase war bonds in preparation for the upcoming conflict.

Although separated by vast oceans, the conflict has potential to spread far and wide. As influential as New Edom and Norvenia are in their respective regions, it seems unlikely it will remain a conflict between the two nations alone for long. Duchess Luminita Vianu was unavailable for comment, but a spokesperson for the Jedorian government said "We are monitoring the situation diligently."

"Fucking Christ Almighty," the spokesperson added.

[Nalaya]

The Zoranots'in
Sevan, Nalaya

"I skimmed your file, really. We've been too busy here today for me to actually catch up on my paperwork," Siri said, smoothing her hand over her hair. "You are welcome to stay, and perhaps you should. I am uncertain as to what the Quarval-sharess may add to this dialogue, but her input will likely be...enlightening. As always."

At that, a force of nature came through the door. First a smell, woodsmoke and bittersweet perfume and just a hint of that coppery scent of fresh blood. Then the sound, just a whisper of movement through the air as bare feet brushed against the stone floor before muffling themselves on carpet. Then, finally, the sight. The Dread Wolf stood six feet tall—all lean, iron muscle that imbued her every movement with an effortlessness matched only by its grace. A length of white cotton cloth had been wrapped and draped around her body so that it covered her breasts as well as her hips and upper thighs. Every other inch of bronze skin was left on display. Dark, bold tattoos of a stylized wolf body covered her own, but the centerpiece was the wolf-face superimposed over her own. Framed by a curtain of blonde, silken hair, the lupine tattoos ran along the narrow and unforgiving angles of her face, highlighting cruel lips and heavily-hooded eyes of a color between dark red and violet.

Lledrith smiled at Siri as she stepped in, displaying fangs that had been ground and capped from normal canines and incisors. Even her nails had been carefully cut and filed to even points. Everything about the way she moved and breathed screamed predator. Even the way she looked at people had a certain undefinable hunger to it. After all, she had spent her whole lifetime emulating that side of the primal. She was more than a Mak'ur. She was more than one of the Yath. She was the Dread Wolf, the Heart of the Fane.

"Quarval-sharess, you do me a great honor," Siri said, taking a step back so that her guest could enter while she closed the door. "Has a resolution been reached?"

Lledrith's eyes focused on Cynthia with an unwavering, relentless intensity. They were not questioning or disapproving. Whatever she was thinking remained unreadable behind her tattooed face. "The Arzhani Protector will be joining us in Dyvynasshar for the rites," she said. It was an unheard of level of trust and respect to be given to anyone who wasn't Mak'ur. But only someone well-versed in Nalayan culture would know that. It was enough to give Siri pause for a moment, but she didn't remark on it. The Dread Wolf's attention was focused elsewhere at the moment anyway. "This is the Norveni. The envoy."

"I expect you to extend to her the same courtesy you did to Tiruhi Xin, Hostillia's Ambassador," Siri said before sitting back down at the table. She pulled out a chair for Lledrith, keeping the Dread Wolf on the opposite side of the table from Cynthia. Not because she was worried that there would be violence, either. It was important above everything else that Cynthia and Lledrith have this opportunity to look into each other's eyes.

"Do you dance, Norveni?" Lledrith asked with surprising lack of fury, her claw-like nails resting on the table. When she drummed them, it was with a sharp staccato rhythm of something that was not quite impatience. She might have looked half asleep under those hooded eyes, but her body was alive and alight with energy. It always was.

The quiet little monk from Hostillia had been worthy enough to be vlosus, blooded. Xin had a mark now that would influence the faithful of L'i'dol wherever she went in the country. She had won the Dread Wolf's respect in an arena where even devils feared to tread.

"I don't think she does," Siri said. More firmly, she continued, "We've been discussing the O'Donnell Doctrine and what is happening now with Norvenia. Siruhi Baker was explaining to me the meaning of the doctrine. It is not about what we thought it was. Humanitarianism, for example. And so we find ourselves preparing to deal with the—"

Hooded eyes flickered closed and then opened again in a fraction of a second. It was such a small little expression that it would likely fly by unremarked. It was the face of Lledrith accepting something without a trace of surprise. She understood—the Nalayans had thought this was a human rights issue. But that had been a lie. The Dread Wolf knew well lies from og'elend, within and without Nalaya.

"Consequence," Lledrith finished for her with force, gently accepting a small coffee cup when Siri handed her one silently. Her eyes were fixed on Cynthia's now, measuring for worth. But every fiber of her being vibrated with the hunger to see a world in flames. "Siruhi, your nation has already destroyed something so precious as to be valued above all things. Already slain a soul like unto no other spirit. Will you too demolish the mountain wherein dwelt the gem?"

The Dread Wolf knew how to be rational. It was a power she exercised at times when it was necessary, but it was always colored by her passions. At the moment, she could feel the familiar ache of the spiritual wound that was the destroyed Fane. Where weaker souls might have tried to soothe it or run from it, she tore away the dressing and drove her fingers into her wound herself. She could not allow herself to forget, lest she doom her people to suffer it again.

[Late Roman Empire]

A recording delivered via Imperial Broadcasting Service feed on the floor of the Senate.

Conscript Fathers, Bishops, Presbyters, Members of the Sacred Consistory, Chamberlains of the Imperial Court, public servants and staffers of this, soldiers, and our beloved subjects in this our noble Empire, behold,

We, Publius Marcius Valerianus, Imperator Caesar Divus Augustus Dominus Mundus et Noster Pontifex Maximus et Fidei Defensor, do hereby condemn most vociferously the falsehoods, deceits, and propaganda uttered and spewed forth by the dishonest and aggressive regimes in place in Norvenia and Hostillia. We also wish to question the prudence of the rather negative commentary, perhaps simply misguided by insufficient information or simply influenced by the Shalumite foreign policy doctrines, which seem rather distinct from our own, that have been uttered by the Imperatrix of Shalum, Alison Holland. We also find it odd that no comment has been made by the Imperator himself, who should be weighing in on matters of such weight, we would tend to believe.

We, therefore, naturally wish to correct such fallacies as have been uttered of late by small and peevish critics of our wise and benevolent laws and policies. To begin with, contrary to what has been implied by the Hostillians, we have not severed or permanently terminated our diplomatic relations with them, only suspended the same. This is not the same thing, and certainly not tantamount to war or anything similar to that. It is simply a temporary punitive action taken in response to their betrayal of us in the matter of the admission to the Belisarian League, which was the final straw, given how little actual respect with which we were treated, compared to what we as a great power deserve. We have learned the hard way that they have not the same sense of honor, therefore cannot be trusted to keep faith, nor can we do business with them under present conditions. Trust is missing now from that relationship, and it is very difficult to rebuild it. Nor does this preclude the restoration of relations in time, unless they truly take such umbrage at being expected to honor their commitments as to bar future relations themselves, as one article implied. We trust that they have not gone to that extreme, at least.

That betrayal aside, we are more immediately concerned with the perfidy of Norvenia, and most obviously, its false and disparaging remarks about New Edom, not to mention the outrageous demands pertaining to the freedom of the seas that they themselves purport to champion. Accordingly, let it be clearly known that, should any Norvenian military forces present themselves, in an aggressive and hostile faction, in any matter of action against the governments or armed forces of any Cornellian nations, including those countries with whom we have vast differences, such as Hostillia and Shalum, we will regard it immediately as an act of war against the Late Roman Empire and respond accordingly and appropriately to such a shocking, vicious, and dishonorable violation of the national sovereignty and territorial integrity of said nations. Despite what other nations might think, we do very much, and indeed always, uphold firmly the principles of international law, including the national sovereignty of our neighbors here in Cornellia. While once we dominated or invaded them, now we stand firmly with them in their right to defend their own soil and homeland.

We are even prepared to consider canceling the suspension of relations with Hostillia, but only if it becomes apparent that the Norvenian threat outweighs even a betrayal of that magnitude. If it becomes clear that the severity of the threat is that extreme, we will of necessity be forced to remain in place. Nevertheless, this will not change the fact that we no longer trust them. Time and experience alone can repair that. As many of you know, the edict has not yet been inscribed in bronze. Yet only such dangers and perils can possibly outweigh such a betrayal, and the issue would then have to be revisited in six months.

In this matter, even Romans and Han are perhaps in the same boat, like it as little as we do. Thank you, Conscript Fathers, for listening to us and let the forces of aggression, colonialism, and tyranny in Norvenia understand this. We will not yield one centimeter of sovereign rights to you, nor support your accursed ultimatum, not now, not ever. If we can even consider deferring a righteous penalty for a treacherous former ally, what does that say of our fortitude, our resolve, in opposing Norvenia? Be it not clear that this commitment is absolute and unconditional?

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, we pray all of you, pray for the peace of Cornellia and Aurora, but pray most of all for the fortitude to withstand it all, against the intemperate forces of zealots and fanatics who seek to pull us all down.

Long Live Rome!

[New Edom]

Conclave Tonight: New Edomite News Network Television

We will return to Conclave Tonight in a moment, followed by an aalysis by our political correspondent in Constantinople of the rift between Hostillia and the Late Roman Empire, latest highlights in the engagement of Princess Jocasta to Prince Nicholas of Seahold, and the highlights from the latest match in the Cornellian Cup.

“Hello, and welcome back to Conclave Tonight,” said a smooth voiced Dengali émigré in a nicely painted red suit. “I’m David Berry, and with me tonight are Professor Oren Vulso, the Head of Department of Politics and History at the University of Hillel, Miss Colleen Fish, Undersecertary of Defense, Mr. James Pice of the Peace Party of New Edom and the Reverend Jacob Rehuel of the Haranese Christian Church, author of God is not Mocked.”

“Mr. Pice, we were just asking your opinions on the possibility of impending war.”

James Pice was a distinguished looking man, not an Edenist, wearing a light blazer, trousers and shirt, and he said, “I lost family—more than I can bear to remember—in the First Civil War. My first wife, my brother, and my sister and her family. Not to them having served in uniform. They were what is called collateral damage. Many families in our country know this, have suffered this. Boys as young as 12 have served in militias. I think it is time this ended.”

“I find this unbelievable,” said Professor Vulso, a huge shouldered man with a prophetic graying beard, leaning his head back, “As a man who once ran for the office of President of the Free Congress, you are offering us this, in the face of Norvenian aggression?”

“You know, Mr. Pice, we grieve with you, as we grieve for all who lost loved ones, as I have…” said Colleen Fish, “But this is not some imperialist move on the part of New Edom. This is a foreign nation telling our country who we can align with, where we can move our ships in international waters. We just saw that clip of the Norvenian Chancellor’s words, it is quite intolerable.” She adjusted her round glasses and shook her head. “Where does it end? I’ll tell you—with the end of our government and our way of life.”

“Yes, and this is also a Christian nation, and we are supposed to believe that when we are slapped on one cheek we are to turn the other. I have yet to be convinced that this is not about pride, about being ready with a first strike policy, and with having force projection. Now I am not simply some dewy eyed protestor, I have been in the halls of government, I worked with Mr. Touchstone, I do not need to be lectured about thesafety of our country!” Pice exclaimed.

The reverend said sadly, “Mr. Pice, the Bible says ‘blessed are the peacemakers’ but it also says that Christ did not come to bring peace but a sword. You cannot simply rest upon a few phrases, you must understand the whole of the Gospel.”

Berry said, “If we could just interrupt a moment, Miss Fish, we have not had any official government response yet to the message of the Chancellor of Norvenia—I’m just wondering if you can comment on that.”

“Mr. Berry, the Government stands by what the President of the Council has already said. We have yet to have much in the way of any affirmative response from any other leaders in Cornellia or Aurora, but it’s a lot to take in quickly. However I am advised that I can say: the Norvenian government has made no attempt to negotiate, made no offer to help our damaged ship, which was clearly damaged by a torpedo which if fired by a submarine they are now claiming was theirs was the only visible act of aggression anyone can prove right now. It is also very clear that they are claiming the submarine has been destroyed. Where is their proof, and when can we see it? I think that while Mr. Pice and the people he represents are right to fear the possibility of war—we didn’t start this. The Norvenian Chancellor wants war with us—and if it comes, we have every right to defend ourselves and our allies.”

“Thank you, Miss Fish, and we’ll go to a commercial break right now for Frydad’s Chickenhead Stew—you’ll be slurping up faster than you can chew…”

Carrier Group Teman, South Afrosian Sea

Vice-Admiral Prince Elijah Shalmaneser remembered a game he had played as a boy. They had been playing “Elwe and Soldiers” and he had been one of the last of the soldiers left in the game. The opposing team of boys had ambushed and eliminated the other soldiers. He had found a place to hide, a water drain near a ditch. The problem was that while concealed it was a narrow space, and there were only two ways in or out.

Now he was in the same situation. He had roughly 800 km on eiher side of land as he headed for the end of the continent, but really it was more like six hundred given the ice floes to the south and the Norvenian zone of patrol to the north.

He had never really liked how some of his superiors, in the old days, would hover over screens, over radar, over reports, as though looking to an oracle for more information.

No. He would not let himself be drawn into worry or panic. He had left the CIC, leaning on the rail of the port bridge wing, looking out at the leading lights of the NENS Glaive. Highwinds ruffled his hair and his greatcoat; the waves splashing created a spray that even reahed his height, faintly. Fine spray blew over the broad deck.

The fleet spread out and still alert for possible attack now moved steadily east towards Seahold. Once they had cleared Afrosia they would also be clear to hopefully get some range.

Cloud cover. He prayed for cloud cover. Not out of desperation, but with humility. As it had been with Hezekiah and Elijah, he believed for God to do His will regardless of his own tactics and strategies, and to place himself in humility before that will. In his prayer he acknowledged with all thanksgiving his gratitude for all the prayers answered before.

When he raised his head, his eyes were no less clear, his shoulders no less fixed towards his purpose than they had been before.

What he expected now was for his every move to be under heavy surveillance. By satellite, by drone, by stealth plane. While his fleet was powerful, it was also vulnerable and valuable. Today the carrier was no longer the greatest threat on the sea—it was powerful, but where it had once been a great juggernaut, now it was like a herd bull—powerful, but capable of being brought down by small, cunning predators. But they had predators of their own with the fleet.

He fought a yawn off, and headed back towards the CIC, returning salutes of the watch and going down the companionway. Bashan contacted him via his walkie talkie. “Sir, there is a message waiting for you from Fineberg.”

“I’m on my way.”

Coming in, removing his greatcoat and handing it to the nearest sailor, he received the flimsy. He handed it to Bashan, Merari, to read. “We continue, but there is to be no fanfare about it. No public refusal will take place. For now. Apparently there’s some kind of plan of SATCOM’s to advise us of possible threats. We can hope.” He smiled coldly.

SATCOM, Silver River Air Force Base, New Edom

Lieutenant-General Alarion Vrinn of the Natioal Air Force sat at the watch officer’s desk overlooking a room filled with laptops and desk top computers. The room was temperature and atmosphere controlled with a rubbered floor. It was connected to another room which merely had shelf after shelf of hard drives that had replaced an old clunky mainframe driven system gradually over the years. Now the space age had arrived.

As the highest ranking female officer in the New Edomite military, Vrinn had had to work harder than anyone she knew to reach her position. Not family, not talent alone had been enough, but rather a ruthless attention to detail, to buiding a network of support more intricate that the compuer network around her, until she was a force to be reckoned with. She had been a good pilot and a better senior commander. Now she was here: one of the highest commands in the military itself. She was a neatly built woman, elegant in bone and form, and had the nickname “The Raven”.

Secretly New Edom had been launching micro satellites via the rocket launching pad in the desert near Callaban, and had also the HANNIBAL network it had established in geosynchrinous orbit. Duty officers were constantly checking the orbital paths and making them clear on boards. She received several reports but she was really here to wait for a phone call and put a plan into effect.

For some time she had been quietly waiting in the wings. She had served as a Monarchist entirely because General Achan had been her patron durng her years in the Air Force, and he had become Military Chief of Staff to King Mark. But her true loyalty lay to the uniform itself and to the country. Her phone rang.

“Vrinn here,” she said.

“This is Benajah. The President has approved your plan, Operation Gameboy.”

“Thank you sir,” she replied.

“Go with God, shoot straight as Nimrod.” Benjah said. There was a click She took a deep breath. “Operation Gameboy is a go,” she said loudly. “Let’s get on it right away. I want a box beyond regular cruise range around Shalmaneser’s fleet. We’ll establish a satellite view perimeter and try to give him some range and warning. Let’s move with a purpose people.”

Greenborough,Seahld

To: Her Royal Majesty Grand Duchess Krimhild I
From: Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab, President of the Council of Ministers
Subject: Hostilities
Encryption Delivered personally by the Ambassador, Colonel Simon Daniel

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Grand Duchess,

By this time I am sure you will have become aware of a recent broadcast from the senate of Norvenia delivered by Chancellor Malcom Griffiths stating that he feels that Norvenia has the right to deny New Edom’s fleet the right to travel through international waters to reach Seahold. I fear that there is the possibility of our fleet not making it to Seahold, and that if it does reach there that the Norvenians may attack.
If at any time you would like to remove your country from our alliance, I will not think the worst of you for it. If you wish to stand by us, however, now would be the time to make plans.

I hope you make an answer to this as soon as possible, but I have told my Ambassador to hear your point of view and bring no pressure to bear upon you. I realize that you have trials enough as it is, and so I must again insist that you believe me: there will be no hard feelings if you end this young alliance.

I have the honour to be
Perrin Pahath-Moab

Colonel Simon Daniel waited quietly while the Grand Duchess read the letter (wherever she was when this was possible.) he wore a simple uniform, peaked cap under his arm, and appared to hae a great deal of patience for her response.

He felt compassion for the young ruler. She had been through a great deal, and he felt personally that it as a mistake for her family to be so far away. She needed support. His heart went out to her—she seemed fierce to her own side, but to him she was fierce as aw ounded falcon might be considered to be—both fierce and fragile. The wing bones hollow and while strongly supported when broken bringing the magnificent creature down.

“I am advised to say that I have been briefed on the contents of the letter and vouch for them,” said the Ambassador. “For myself…I can only say that it has been a privilege to be here and will be a privilege to continue. I know that whatever you decide, Ma’am will be with the best for your country in mind. I don’t think anyone could doubt that.”

[Seahold]

Greenborough, Seahold

Her Majesty read Pahath-Moab's letter more than once, a slight smile on her face. "They attacked a fleet bound for Seahold, Colonel" she said, in a calm and reassuring voice; "If Perrin Pahath-Moab thinks the threat of war is enough to scare me out of this alliance, he's wrong. They may have attacked an Edomite fleet but, by doing it, they have also attacked my country; I'm not a coward, and I won't act like one." She was scared, and worried for her mother, brother and even her troublesome sister, but she wouldn't make a fool of herself in front of Daniel anymore.

He already knows you're wearing a mask, there's no point in pretending.

She stood up from the chair she'd been sitting on. Krimhild Erlefrida of Seahold wasn't as good looking as her siblings - in fact, she was an average-looking, and a little heavier than average woman, just like her mother had been until her father's death - but her height and bearing gave her an imposing presence. As she left her private audience room, she put a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"Thank you."

Six hours later, after she'd informed the Ministers about Perrin's letter and what it meant, the state channel SSC One aired a public statement of Her Majesty from the Council Hall. She was dressed just like her father - suit, tie and a blue/white sash; "Recently, Chancellor Malcolm Griffiths of the Commonwealth of Norvenia foolishly claimed to have the right to deny the fleets of other nations the right to travel through international waters to reach Seahold; this statement follows Norvenia's aggression of an allied fleet bound for Seahold. Without explicitly doing it, they have declared war on Seahold - we should act appropriately. As of now, all of Seahold's professional troops are mobilized, and will not shy away from the use of force in case of foreign aggression of Seahold, or nations allied to Seahold. May the Lord protect and defend us."

[Regnum Albion]

[OOC: Sorry for the shoddy quality of this post but I'm rather pressed for time. The point carries across though, and I'll look over it for any mistakes later. Obviously with the rapid pace of unfolding events I couldn't just not post.]

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Conference Room D
The Admiralty
Port Royal, Regnum Albion

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"Sir, the world knows we detest them and their self-righteous bullshit. Declare against them now and we can kick these Norvenian arseholes right back to their Cromwellian dystopia." Peter van der Byl's harsh voice cut across the room, passing over a dozen assembled Secretaries and Under-Secretaries of State as well as a fair few military men. The Admiralty was housed in a grandiose arch that spread across the entrance to The Mall, a great red-tinted road that led from St James' Palace, the monarch's residence in Port Royal, all the way down to Parliament Square. It also happened to be one of the most well-equipped meeting places in the capital that was close enough to the Parliament and the Prime Minister's residence in No. 12 Regulus Street. At the present moment in time, it was the centre of a crisis committee determining how to respond to Griffiths' declaration against the New Edomites. It may not have been an outright declaration of war, but it signalled the start of an inexorable slide into chaos and thus it was being treated much as though it did represent a call to arms between the Commonwealth and New Edom. Around the room television screens mutedly played live coverage from a plethora of news channels - situations such as this one were the holy grail of twenty-four hour news networks and every new detail was picked up on and analysed in such thoroughness that they inevitably ended up flogging a dead horse. Nonetheless, it provided a stream of information that backed up official reports and hinted at public opinion towards any actions. Right now, it was clear that public opinion in Regnum Albion was overwhelmingly anti-Norvenian. There were no rallies or protests, but social media had been going ballistic with put-downs and insults, as though the bottled-up feelings of months of tension had finally burst through the dyke of politeness.

"And the world also supports us, let's not forget." The Secretary of State for Foreign & Commonwealth Affairs joined his colleague in making the case for swift action. Joshua Marlebury, the Lord Northwood, was a kindly man and an eccentric, and many had suspected that he would not have filled his role adequately. As things transpired, he had masterminded a diplomatic coup so large that it had altered the very shape of Auroran relations. Over months of discussions, negotiations and agreements he had created a web of alliances that shored up those countries supportive of Regnum Albion's policies and isolated those that did not. "Aside from the defensive agreement with Seahold, which will likely be the spark for any unwanted conflict with Norvenia, we have allies in the Triple Entente - Blackledge and Afalia possessing some of the most advanced armed forces in Aurora, alongside ours - and can count on support from Mizuyuki, South Arturia and Florys. We also believe that support is highly likely from Aurinsula and Florys, and I'm pleased to inform you that preliminary discussions with Bratoslovoukia have resulted in a highly beneficial agreement. As for the wavering powers - Mediterreania and Lanos - discussions are progressing nicely. In short, we have the will and the power to stand up against Norvenian aggression, and I agree with Peter that we should do so at once."

"But," Tweedsmuir, the man to whom their arguments had been directed, quietly but assuredly responded from the head of a large conference table perched in the centre of the room. "I don't want to invite war with open arms. Stand up to them, yes, but spark a conflict, no. We must strike a middle ground here, for I'm fed up of Griffiths treating Aurora like his playground. That's why we've wrested his 'sphere of influence' away from him across the entire region, and that's why we're going to make sure that the entirety of the blame for this pointless and appalling crisis will fall squarely on his shoulders." The room was still for a moment. Tweedsmuir, despite his gentlemanly upbringing and charming public image, was a Machiavellian politician and had done everything in his power to restore Anglican pride. Some might have called him a Gaullist, a reference to Charles de Gaulle's attempts to preserve French great power status in the wake of the Second World War and further devastating colonial conflicts, but Tweedsmuir would heartedly disagree. The difference between his policies and de Gaulle's was that his had worked, and now he was poised to take down the greatest enemy that the Crown Commonwealth had the pleasure of facing up against, the greatest threat to regional peace, and the greatest source of instability Aurora had known.

"We're going to politely remind Griffiths that if he dares attack Seahold then international treaty law obliges us to come to the Grand Duchy's aid, and that we shall not hesitate to do so, as requires Anglican honour. We'll also remind him of the web of alliances spreading across the majority of Aurora that is likely to become a major factor in any subsequent retaliation, should he fail to heed good counsel, as his habits would suggest. Finally, to show how serious we are about this, we'll be announcing the integration of the Afalian Armed Forces into the Valkyrie battlespace network and the mobilisation of the Joint Naval Task Force, as well as other multilateral measures being taken around Aurora to counter his government's appalling actions. At the same time, we need to prepare domestic forces. Peter, I want you to ready the reserves and place all Anglican troops on high alert."

"Aye, sir. We might want to bolster overseas defences too." Peter replied bluntly. He was well known and much liked for his directness.

"Indeed. I believe you know best as to how that should be achieved. Work with the General Staff to make it so." Tweedsmuir turned to his Secretary of State for Economic Affairs too. He was undoubtedly in control of the situation. Consensus in this case was working a treat - he had listened to every piece of advice given to him, taken from every possible source, and sat quietly, forming a plan. Now it had reached the crucial decision-making time, Tweedsmuir had it all ready in his head and was transferring from his role as decision-maker to leader. "Nathaniel, how's the economic side of this looking?"

"We're in top shape. With the FTAs we hold around the world and a Preferential Trade Agreement with Blackledge we're likely to see high levels of trade being maintained. Most reassuringly for us is that, bar Norvenia, all of our trading partners are also close allies, or at the very least have no stake in this conflict at all. Our agricultural base can cover us for increased food demand should any conflict restrict imports, and the major industry, finance, won't even have to worry about such matters. In the meantime, we can exercise some economic muscle against Norvenia, should you think it right." Nathaniel was a shy man, but when it came to his subject area, he could rattle on like an old professor."Of course, this means that we'll have to implement relatively few legislative reforms, but it might be an idea to prepare contingency plans in case this does turn into a total war. Subsidies and legal protection to certain industries, for example, but there's no need to implement anything yet. We're not at war right now."

"Thank you, Nathaniel. That will do, ladies and gentlemen. Go to your duties for now, and we shall reconvene in thirty minutes."

---

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Recipient(s): The Rt. Hon. Malcolm Griffiths, Chancellor of Norvenia; Her Majesty Krimhild, Grand Duchess of Seahold
Sender: The Lord Tweedsmuir, Prime Minister of Regnum Albion
Subject: Seaholder Sovereignty

Date: June 14, 2014
Encryption: Secret

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Chancellor, Your Majesty,

It is with the deepest regret that I write this message, and with the utmost concern for the future security of Aurora. I shall make my point brief, for none of us needs to waste time reading the unnecessary ramblings of an old eccentric.

Seahold is and shall remain one of the Crown Commonwealth's closest allies, and therefore their defence shall continue to be one of our greatest priorities. Troops already stationed in the Grand Duchy shall be bolstered by reinforcements, as shall Anglican forces stationed worldwide, and all servicemen and women of His Majesty's Armed Forces are to be placed on a status of high alert. We have also received concrete assurances from a great many of our allies concerning their willingness to back His Majesty's Government should a conflict occur, spreading our military, economic and diplomatic strength across almost the entirety of Aurora.

I make this point (rather bluntly, I'm afraid) because I wish to reassure the entirety of the Grand Duchy of Seahold that Regnum Albion, and the wider world, is behind them in preserving their sovereignty, and to deter Chancellor Griffiths from committing his usual habit of rashly acting against the wishes and norms of the international community. We have tried co-operation, Chancellor, and His Majesty's Government has made efforts to readmit your own administration into Auroran affairs, but alas your actions reveal that you have rejected these offerings. Should you continue to make decisions so detrimental to Auroran stability, you risk war with every sovereign nation in this region. I would implore you therefore to remain out of East Aurora and, more specifically, to respect the sovereignty of Seahold. Should they be attacked by your forces, then His Majesty's Government will honour their international commitments. We will not go to war alongside New Edom, but we will go to war against anyone who attacks the Grand Duchy of Seahold.

Yours,

The Lord Tweedsmuir,
Prime Minister,
The Crown Commonwealth of Regnum Albion

[Afalia]

OOC: Please consider this backdated to say, early June, considering the recent events and escalation over the past day. There'll be another letter later actually responding to today's events.

TO: The Honourable Malcolm Griffiths, Chancellor of the Commonwealth of Norvenia, Chancellor House, Astor-of-Stone,
FROM: The Right Honourable Christopher Kelly MP, Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Afalia, Fairfax House, Blackdon
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Consensus and Cooperation

Dear Sir,

I am glad to hear that my last message provided information which have allowed your government to take practical action, which I assure you will be incredibly helpful for this government, something I must thank you for. I share your sentiment with regards to the correspondence we have had so far. Undoubtedly our relationship has been greatly improved upon through these few letters alone and I believe said relationship can only be further improved, both practically and in terms of the sentiment between our two nations.

I must thank you for your support regarding Afalia's territorial integrity and the defence of our sovereign borders. Although our intelligence services do not expect any Valyrian action with regards to their border claims in the near future, the government of Napoleon and his supporters are often unpredictable in their policies. Preparation for any diplomatic, or even the rare possibility of military, action with regards to Valyria's Lake Jacob border claims is thus essential. Therefore I must offer my deepest thanks for the support of your government.

Your proposals for a carrot and stick approach are most interesting and, I agree, could be put to use in a broader context. I would be happy to begin further engagement with the Cornelian regimes of Nalaya and Ossoria, in pursuit of greater human rights for the people of those nations. I would welcome your input on the specific strategy and reforms your government seeks with these nations, as well as any input the Republic of Adiron can provide. This is a strategy which I believe that the Kingdom of Afalia can pursue in partnership with the Commonwealth and other states, like Adiron, to the benefit of both the people of Cornelia and our own governments. With that in mind I will use all of the diplomatic and, potentially economic, tools at Her Majesty's Government's disposal to help this carrot and stick policy.

The same support can be applied towards bridging the gap between Norvenia and Cornelian democracies, through a modified carrot and stick policy, as you previously set out. I will await your ideas on the specific content of these policies but let me be clear that on these policies the Commonwealth of Norvenia has the full support of the Kingdom of Afalia in its goals. Disagreement between democracies, as I believe you set out in a previous letter, is of course natural. Above all however the ties of liberal democracy bind us together and it is important we remain strong and united in the face of expansionist regimes.

I am pleased we are in agreement on both human rights and largely in agreement on our policies regarding military intervention. I should take this opportunity to offer you sir, the basic groundwork of a foreign policy doctrine currently being crafted by the foreign office and senior cabinet ministers including party leadership candidate and Chancellor of the Exchequer Jessica Shaw. We hope that this new doctrine, when it is ready, will clearly show the Afalian policy with regards to non-democratic governments and regimes and when intervention is necessary, though I must stress it is a work in progress. In summary alongside the need for intervention should non-democratic regimes expand into democratic territory it also sets out that intervention is justified:

-If the Afalian government is sure of its case both legally, analytically and morally,
-If all other options have been exhausted and brought no success,
-If military operations can be sensibly and practically undertaken by Her Majesty's Armed Forces,
-If the long-term goals, exit strategies and grand strategy of intervention has been clearly set out and finally
-If there is assurance that intervention is being undertaken not just for Afalian interests but for the interests of the wider international community and democratic world.

Ideally action would also be multilateral in nature. I should stress once again that though we hope to officially announce this policy in the near future, probably I fear after I have left office on the 25th of June, it remains a work in progress and not official government policy. That said I hope it gives your Mr. Chancellor, a clearer idea of Afalian foreign policy in relation to intervention.

With the shared nature of our policies on intervention I would be happy to issue a joint Norvenian-Afalian memorandum on the matter including genocides, ethnic cleansing and non-democratic expansionism into democratic territory. In fact, if other nations also share this viewpoint I would be happy to issue a memorandum with them alongside. Multilateralism is I believe a key and sensible way of gaining credibility both amongst the democratic and non-democratic nations of the region and extra-regional international community. I too fear that the destabilising conflicts we have seen across the region and neighbouring regions may force us into action. I know just as well as any other of the violence taking place within our region. Within our very own country the HFA have attempted to disrupt and destroy democratic processes, an all too common sight and a legacy I would rather leave office without.

As to the practical policies you have set out:

I can indeed confirm that a public denouncement, the official designation of the HFA as a terrorist organisation and encouragement for the moderates in Harling will go a long way to help defeating the HFA and bringing peace to that island. The assistance of the National Intelligence Service in both assisting the AIS, cyber ops and disruption and tracking of arms will also be immensely helpful in defeating the HFA. You have my word that coverage of the NIS activities will remain secret and I will issue a Defence Advisory Notice to all press and media to ask them not to report these activities. The media almost never breaches DA Notices, though they still have the right to do so. Whilst the HFA know they have failed to win the hearts and minds of the Afalian people they believe, encouraged mainly by certain Catholic nations, that they have the support of the international community viewing them as freedom fighters. This is of course not the case. A clear and public denouncement of the HFA from the region's superpower will have both practical and moral results, showing once again that the group cannot continue to try and pursue their goals through violence and terror.

I readily welcome the opportunity to discuss a free trade deal in Astor-of-Stone. At this stage, with the process of leadership undergoing a change and my successor being chosen amidst a leadership election campaign as we speak, perhaps it would be best if we held out on meeting until late June or early July. Then my successor can hit the ground running and hopefully form an even better relationship with your Mr. Chancellor which stands as an example long into the future. Similarly I gratefully welcome a guarantee of our sovereignty. Whilst, as I said, I do not envision any direct threats at this moment since the Titanican War Afalia has lived under the cold spectre of the possibility of attack from an enemy vastly numerically superior. Good training and equipment can go so far. With your permission I will incorporate this guarantee of sovereignty into calculating Afalian military thinking and into our official military doctrine of Flexible Defence, which envisions a nightmare scenario of an invasion of Afalia by a large, non-democratic enemy.

As to your final question, please endeavour to let me explain. Whilst I am most honoured by your offer of a mutual defence pact, the fact remains that Afalia cannot, practically, commit to one. We have neither the military strength nor public support to enter such a defence arrangement. I wish this was not the case. Until 2013 and the onset of the Titanican War Afalia was a solidly pacifist people. That war changed our view of the world and brought us into the 21st century where the threats to our security as just as bad as they were in the middle part of the 20th century. Our people are more open and supporting of intervention, but, at this stage, are not willing to enter a defence pact with your nation. I suppose that is one of the curses of democracy, you cannot fight a war or take controversial decisions without popular support. I hope this situation will change and I believe, given time, it will as the Afalian people become more accustomed to the new role we are crafting for ourselves.

That said I still do wish to support your government and so too do the Afalian people. Whilst things, to us, are rarely black and white the Afalian people hold the tenets of democracy, human rights and freedom dearly. This is unsurprising considering our democratic heritage and that these rights were threatened only a year and a half ago by a fascist power. Things may not be black or white but, in most cases, there are forces of good and forces of evil which operate across the globe. Norvenia is, to all Afalians, clearly the force of good. Our nation is coming of age in a way. For over 60 years we sat quietly on the edge of this region, isolated from the terrors of the modern world. That isolation was, as seemed inevitable, shattered last year. I believe we have responded well, but we are not ready as of yet to support certain policies or enter certain agreements. One day however, I firmly believe, we will be and will be ready to support Norvenia in meaningful, practical terms.

For now however I hope we can be of assistance in other ways, by pursuing, alongside your government, the carrot and stick policy proposals, by strengthening our own relations through free trade, intelligence co-operation, drawing clear lines for non-democracies to see and by using each other's strengths to their benefits and mending each other's weaknesses we can be strong partners in a difficult world. The rhetoric and metaphors I used above are probably of little reassurance to your government when you are seeking solid support at a time of great difficulty. I hope however they go someway to explaining the average Afalian mindset at the present time and how, given time, it will change to become something similar to that of the average Norvenian. I will reiterate my point: Afalia stands with the forces of good, Norvenia, against the forces of evil. I, and my successors, hope to provide more practical support in the future. For now however I hope the suggestions we have already agreed upon or set out can form the foundations for a democratic partnership which in the future can blossom into something greater than you and I, our two nations or our respective interests.

Yours sincerely,

The Right Honourable Christopher Kelly MP
Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Afalia

[Regnum Albion]

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For God, King & Empire: Regnum Albion Prepares for Conflict

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Samantha Cleghorn, June 14, 2014

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_{Soldiers of the Royal Regiment of Rifles (15th Light Infantry Brigade) arrive at HMNB Kanahashi, Mizuyuki, to bolster defences}

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The sinking of a Norvenian submarine by New Edomite forces in the southern Afrosian Sea recently has proved to be the culmination of a tense stand-off between the Commonwealth of Norvenia and New Edom, both countries having tested the very limits of diplomacy in order to pursue their policies. Though details remain unclear, it appears that an Edomite naval force en route to Seahold discovered the Norvenian submarine and fired upon it in the international waters just south of Afrosia. Further damage was caused to an Edomite cruiser in the encounter, but the vessel remained afloat. Both nations have blamed each other for the incident, with Chancellor Griffiths assuring the international community that the CNS Glimmer was fired upon first and only returned fire in self-defence. General Prathan-Moab, however, has countered that the incident was only made possible because of Norvenia's aggression in global affairs, stemming from the Cornellian Crisis, and its opaqueness when dealing with his nation. His Majesty's Government made an official declaration immediately following the news of the Glimmer's sinking, stating that it will not place the blame on any single party, but it shall re-affirm previously-noted plans to secure the waters around East Aurora and prevent such incidents occurring East-of-the-Straits. Actions by the Anglican government have so far pointed to a far more meaningful response, though, involving preparations for armed conflict or, at the very least, attempts to solidly secure the Crown Commonwealth's international position. No official government announcement has yet been made concerning these actions, but the Liberal front-bench did make clear in a Parliamentary session earlier today that Aurora was on the precipice of a global war and that Regnum Albion was doing all it could to defend its people and abide by its international commitments.

The measures undertaken by His Majesty's Government have been swift and dramatic. Approved by the aforementioned Parliamentary session earlier today, they largely cover military measures but also involve significant steps in foreign affairs. Around the country, troops already on a very high readiness setting have been officially mobilised and have begun boarding transports to ferry them to Anglican overseas bases around the world. After the latest phase of the armed force's reforms, overseas basings were reduced slightly depending on the size and nature of the establishments, however the troops that were left behind were designated as 'placeholder battalions'. In short, this means that they have been acting as small garrisons to keep the bases operational and well-defended while soldiers within the Crown Commonwealth were placed on alert ready to supplement them at a moment's notice. In the current situation, this has allowed His Majesty's Armed Forces to realistically increase the size of its overseas postings from, in some cases, battalion level to multiple brigade levels in between two and six days. International military logistical 'hubs' in South Arturia and HMNB Shenfei Harbour, Aurinsula, have been bearing the burden of transporting supplies to these bases, while Anglican-based RAF strategic airlift units have begun the immense task of carrying troops around the world. Luckily for the armed forces, the Joint Occupation Zone in Skorzenia has provided an extremely useful site for the massing of forces and the centralisation of supply distribution in Western Aurora. Though such tasks are indeed separated out between numerous Anglican overseas bases, the JOZ is proving to be a means of housing a large number of temporary troops in addition to its already-large military presence.

As well as mobilising reaction forces, the rest of His Majesty's Armed Forces is being placed on heightened alert, a state of readiness that allows them to respond to an outbreak of conflict at a moment's notice. It is the highest state of readiness available to military forces in the Crown Commonwealth and hasn't yet been ordered since the conception of the preparedness system in the late 1940s. In practical terms, this has involved calling all servicemen and women back from leave, preparing them for rapid reaction in case of an international incident, placing all bases and units on action stations, and scrambling constant patrols in the sea and air around Regnum Albion. Ships have been loaded with supplies for continuous operations and are preparing to leave port en masse to maintain large-scale patrols of Anglican territorial waters and international waters. Aircraft have been scrambled at a continuous rate since midday today, and ground forces have either been shoring up defences at home, or packing up their equipment ready for immediate deployment abroad. The Regnum Albion Police Force (RAP-For) has also been affected by recent measures, with border forces maintaining extreme vigilance and ground patrols being increased by up to twenty percent in some areas. In a country with one of the lowest police ratios in Aurora and renowned for its unarmed and community-oriented policing approach, the presence of additional officers is a sign of rising tensions. Already, two large protests against the government's belligerent actions have been registered and accepted, due to take place throughout the week in Port Royal and St Andrews.

The final military measure put into place by the government was the decision to call up a much larger portion of the reserve forces than is usually mobilised in peacetime. The Anglican reserve forces are technically permanently called up as small units are deployed at all times in order to fulfil a doctrinal obligation to continuous training. This number never exceeds fifteen percent of the total reserve forces at any one time, but notices have been dispatched to up to fifty-five percent of all reservists according to initial official figures. For the Royal Navy this means that the number of branches available to them increases dramatically as their reservists take up liaison positions within the Joint Support Service. For the Army, Royal Air Force and Royal Medical Service, the influx of reservists will be used to form new brigades and wings in order to bolster the number of combat-ready ground forces at HMAF's disposal. With a relatively small armed forces considering its global commitments, Regnum Albion can usually count on 300,000 regular servicemen and women from all services (as a rough estimate). With reservists being called up at the present rate, that could increase to nearer 400,000 troops, and if the reserves are fully mobilised then HMAF will be able to call nearly 500,000 troops to arms. The Ministry of Defence has assured the general public that reservist call-ups are not likely to exceed sixty percent, and that the current surge is merely a result of precautionary measures and the expectation that around five to ten percent of reservists will need to defer their call-ups for personal or work purposes. Rumours of conscription in the event of an outbreak of war were quickly silenced however, as a spokesman confirmed that the Crown Commonwealth would not resort to such measures aside from the most extreme of circumstances.

The economic effects of measures have been fairly muted. Though the stock market fell slightly at the government's actions and the wider concerns for Auroran conflict, there have been very few market reactions so far. The government has re-assured citizens that no economic measures are being taken as they would be "entirely unnecessary. We are not at war, we do not wish to go to war, and we are doing everything we can to prevent a war. Military measures are simply being taken to preserve the sovereignty of Regnum Albion and maintain East Aurora's stability. We will not have Eastern Aurora trampled upon for the sake of some far-off countries. Aside from military reactions, there has been no attempt to alter the Anglican way of life and there shall not be." The government's attempts to play down the likelihood of conflict have caused the markets to rally somewhat, but at any rate, the minute importance of stock exchanges to the Anglican economy makes their changes of less concern to the economic outlook. Secretary of State for Economic Affairs, Nathaniel Benson, further calmed businessmen and consumers alike by making clear that the Crown Commonwealth still enjoyed excellent trade relations across Aurora and further afield, and was eager to point out the Preferential Trading Agreement and Common Market recently signed into effect within the East Auroran Treaty Area (commonly referred to as the Triple Entente).

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_{A C-10 Minotaur takes off from RAF Grantham laden with supplies for Anglican overseas bases along the Straits}

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The true question, however, is the reason for such a large response from His Majesty's Government. The incident in the southern Afrosian Sea did not involve any Anglican vessels, nor did it threaten Anglican interests or those of its allies, yet the military seems to be preparing for conflict, if not against anyone else then at least one between New Edom and Norvenia. The primary reason is due to a complex web of alliances in which the Crown Commonwealth lies. Though defensive agreements exist or are being negotiated with most nations in Aurora, one particular understanding is in place between Regnum Albion and the Grand Duchy of Seahold, just across the waters of the East Auroran Ocean. Regnum Albion operates a military base on the island chain in order to provide a rapid response supplementary to Seaholder forces with the aim of defending the islands from an attack by foreign foes. Originally envisaged to prevent Valerian actions from threatening the unity of East Aurora, the agreement now seems to be a potential spark in the ever-spiralling Cornellian Crisis. With a New Edomite base also due to be established within the Grand Duchy (for similar reasons) many have started to speculate whether Seahold may become a target for one of Norvenia's Joint Task Forces. Though the base is not yet established, the Edomite naval group which was involved in the incident in the southern Afrosian Sea was en route to the location, and with Chancellor Griffiths desiring the removal of all of New Edom's forces from Aurora the area will make a likely target. Of course, this will force the Crown Commonwealth to come to Seahold's aid, though only in the event that Seaholder territory itself is attacked.

Secretary of State for Defence, Peter van der Byl, clarified the position in a statement to one of our reporters earlier today, saying that "we are [stationed] there to defend Seahold against an attack. If the Norvenians attack the Edomites but leave Seahold we needn't get involved. If a single inch of Seaholder territory is violated, then we must fulfil our treaty obligations." Such a role would place the Crown Commonwealth in the peculiar position of being in a conflict alongside Seahold, but not New Edom with which it would maintain a status of neutrality. The position of His Majesty's Government provides hope that conflict is not inevitable, though it does make for a situation where tensions are high. Parliament, which voted for mobilising Anglican troops earlier today, did so allegedly to "show the Norvenian administration that the Crown Commonwealth is serious about upholding its international commitments, and that we will not abide by unwarranted aggression in Aurora. In the end, we want peace, but the only way to convince a man of war such as Chancellor Griffiths to stand down is by standing up to him." These words, courtesy of the Liberal Party's Chief Whip, Sir Zander Hollyoak, were echoed in speeches across the House of Commons, coming from all major parties. The public, too, has supported the actions to a large degree. Despite the protests happening later in the week, preliminary polling has hinted that so long as the Crown Commonwealth acts purely to defend itself and its allies, seventy-eight percent of Anglicans would support them in using military force. Ninety-two percent, however, believe that a peaceful resolution can and should be the main goal of His Majesty's Government.

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[Hostillia]

This is partially to respond to LRE's article above, but really it's more of a tag so I can more easily keep up with this thread.

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A Response to Roman Allegations
A Proclamation to Gentry of Significance

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- A Speech by the Honorable Imperial Viceroy, Servant of the Son of Heaven:-
Published On The Fourteenth Cycle of the Sun of the Sixth Cycle of the Moon of the Fifteenth Dragon Year

“When a tiger attacks a child, should we be angered at the tiger? Of course not, for it is in the tiger’s nature to hunt. No, we cannot blame the tiger for it is acting in accordance with the plan given to it by Creation, and therefore by Heaven. Rather, we should take conflict with the parent who let the child wander too far into the wilderness, beyond the domain of man and into the domain of that which it man should not expect to tame. This, I believe, is the only order of things- all must behave in accordance with the path destiny has provided us. We are Han, and this entails great benefits- culture, history, pride, and honor- but we must not forget the burdens that come in our blood as well. We are tasked with providing rationality to a world desperately in need of it, we are tasked with providing leadership and livelihood to a people, we are tasked with maintaining the history that we have gathered, we are ordained to uphold our culture which sets us apart from the rest of this world. One such burden that it is our destiny to endure is that we are men surrounded in a world of sparrows. Sparrows chirp and tweet and ka, and often they grow violent and take to squabbling with one another- but should we, as men, take conflict with these sparrows for their squabbles and their chirps? Not at all, for they are but birds and it is in their nature.

“Recently, there have been many squabble amongst the birds. And we, have largely permitted these to pass over us, save for the words of some over eager Scholars who felt the need to silence the sparrows. Unfortunately, these sparrows seem instant on squawking and while some men may have acted too soon, I must agree with the more conservative Scholars that there does come a time when the man must dismiss the birds. Recently, I have read that the words of the barbarian who claims leadership in Constantinople and I must confess- I find them precisely as one would imagine a Han would, to be brutish, overly forward, unenlightened, and making effort to do insult. Permit me appease you Han Guo, he has done my no insult in his unsophisticated language, despite that he- without use of a single parable, directly questioned our honor. Dismiss this challenge, we should not hold against him his questioning of that which he does not, and cannot understand. Even if he were not a barbarian of barbarian thinking, never could he begin to comprehend the thousands of years of history and collective experiences which have shaped and perfected our culture. So hold this not against him.

“However, while it is wrong to beat an illiterate man for failing to read a sign, it is foolish to forgive a Scholar who cannot read the same. The Roman barbarians have informed us that we have done them insult- that somehow we have not sufficiently returned the honor they have shown us. This demonstrates that the barbarians have profoundly misunderstood history. When they first arrived here in this region they now claim their own, they encountered the Guan Dynasty- our people, who had already flourished for thousands of years here in our homeland, and without question the Guan could have crushed their colony and destroyed- in recent days I have been asked if it is my opinion that the Guan should have annihilated the barbarians then, but I do not believe this. Rather, I believe that the Guan and even the Roman barbarians, though the latter unwittingly, have followed the path that fate had provided. The Roman barbarians were destined to unite Barbaria just as much as they were destined to lose it, it is not the place of a man to question the will of the Jade Emperor.

“Now they wish to come to us today, crying to the heavens and to their god that we have wronged them, betrayed them, and shown them great dishonor in doing so. A debtor is prone to being forgiven great sums and then he will attempt to viciously collect from those who owe him, and I would suggest that this is what they have done here today. We are under no obligation to entertain foreign envoys, nor are we obligated to hear the words of those who call themselves diplomats of nations located in Barbaria- this is a choice we elect to make, this is our efforts to enlighten them, to bridge the gap between Han and Barbarian and to encourage them to see, be awed, and to be enlightened by true civilization. We extended this great gift to all, from the Roman barbarians who style themselves leaders of the world, to the Deadoran barbarians whose culture is so foreign it is beyond the comprehension of all beings. Yet, even as we offer to them a branch of peace they insulted is, in our nation, in a temple that has for thousands of years stood resolute in declaring that the impossible could be done, that civilization and barbarian could cooperate. We forgave them for this grievance offense because a father must forgive a child who says foolish things. Then, we welcome in their citizens who we welcome to speak for their false-Emperor in the spirit of cooperation against the odds, and they send to us- not a Scholar, but a harlot who is found encouraging criminal enterprises in our very own nation. The penalty for her crimes is rightfully death, and yet- we elected to release her, out of gratitude the Romans extended to us islands and currency which was honorable of them, as we had mercy where there was none deserved. Perhaps the Romans were under the impression that they could, with this tribute donated in gratitude purchase our friendships or perhaps, even, purchase our obedience- but this only makes for a massive misinterpretation on the part of the Romans of our culture and of true honor. If they think that friendship can be purchased with coins rather than consistent fairness and genuine goodwill, then perhaps it is us who cannot work with them.

“Today, they have leveled accusations against us that we have opposed their membership into the continental League; just as one should not ask an old man to tend the crops, for it cannot be done, I should not be asked to answer to these charges- for I sincerely find them baseless. If they speak of the founding conference for the League, then I will say that we did not have a firm position in relation to the Roman barbarians, indeed, the very mention of them threatened to derail the conference before ever it was begun due to extreme prejudice, not by ourselves, but by Ossoria and Thesum. I would remind readers that the Empire did not join the League until after the false-nation Rouka-Sol was permitted, and therefore following our exit. Indeed, the first day upon which the Roman barbarians gave any indication they desired to join the League, the same day they opened their elected Senate and permitted Hostillian students to attend their schools, was in fact after the Divine Empire and Middle Kingdom had exited the League. Indeed, to our knowledge there was not even an application in the works until after we had departed on account of the illegal entrance of the false-nation previously mentioned. Rendering Roman accusation to be petty and nonsensical.

“I do confess that if we had still been members, the Divine Empire would have opposed their membership and rightly so, in our experience the Romans have done nothing short of cause the Middle Kingdom international incidents- which does little to suggest a stable country worthy of membership in any international organization, least of all one calling for mutual defense. Now I am an old man who has been tried by war and politics and I confess I am not wise nor cunning, so allow me be the first confess that in my old age perhaps something has been misinterpreted by myself, in which case I alone will bear the blame. As we speak, I am meeting with a representative of Nalaya to discuss the path our two nations might take together, and even now my comrades in service are speaking to a representative of Shalum to look to the greater security and stability of the southernmost area of the southernmost continent. Right now, our soldiers are deploying abroad because a diplomat came to us and requested our assistance- but we will not be able to speak to Rome privately because they have elected to temporarily end our diplomatic correspondence without bringing any of these, again queer, claims to the attention of myself or my comrades in service to His Divine Majesty.

“When a whisper will not suffice, a yell must do. We find the severing, even with the intent of such actions only being temporary, of diplomatic relations over issues which we have not been provided a clear understanding to be greatly foolish for it prevents understanding from being reached and thus only worsens the situation. This severing, based on faulty accusations no less, is precisely what Norvenia- another squabbling sparrow, has done to the region at large, ended relations temporarily- until a new regime is put into place, on poor logic and incomprehensible reasoning. Furthermore, we resent and detest this unilateral declaration from Constantinople to defend our sovereignty- another action they have clearly mimicked from their supposed enemies abroad. We have not requested, and will not request Roman assistance in any conflict which arises against the Middle Kingdom- perhaps they had intended to ask our opinion on this matter before they, temporarily, severed relations. Still, we find the suggestion that the Most Divine Emperor, the Son of Heaven, and the only True Servant of the Jade Emperor to be incapable of defending his nation and his people to be highly insulting- and I assure everyone that His Majesty is more than capable and prepared to immediately end any actions which threaten the stability of this Dynasty or threaten the wellbeing of His people. We would have preferred discuss these many similarities to Norvenia in private, however, they have eliminated that as a course of action. But be not alarmed for the fact that, despite squabbling, the Roman barbarians and the Norvenian barbarians are much the same in action and in nature- sparrows are sparrows called by any name. Still- a child should not be punished for going astray if it means he returns with knowledge greater than before, and it is for that reason we are willing to accept a return to diplomatic normalcy if the Romans are willing to do the following; apologize for questioning the ability of the Son of Heaven to defend His people, swear to never again make a unilateral declaration concerning Hostillia, to retract all statements questioning the honor of the Han as a people, and agreeing to discuss their grievances in a mature setting.”