A Kingdom Implodes (IC, SC ONLY)

[Iryllia]

While the Iryllian opinion of Covenantian troops had never been particularly high, especially after the events of Red Snow. The Iryllian troops maintained a cordial atmosphere whenever they interacted with the Covenantian troops. These were no conscripts drafted to fight in a pointless war, this was a professional and elite unit, composed entirely of volunteers, or what passed for volunteers in Iryllian society. They understood a certain ethic among soldiers and remained cordial at all times. That being said, heated discussions were raised at multiple points, soldiers with conflicting orders trying to establish who got what. Voices were raised, idle threats passed but so far, it never went beyond this.

The Iryllians quickly made pace towards the south harbor, remaining units rushing to get as much ground over the Covenantians as possible. The flow of traffic began to become more controlled, checkpoints beginning to be established around the southern city limits directed the flow of traffic inwards and south, away from the Covenantian sectors as much as possible. While the soldiers themselves were a measure of respectful, officers were not above a respectable amount of dick waving. The Iryllian flag was raised over l'aéroport national at noon, just as the second load of transports were landing.

Brigadier General von Kolchek sat on the grass towards the edge of the airport, on a small fold out field stool behind a small table that wouldn't look out of place in a cheep garden center or a pub. Lavenhurst stood by his side, looking somewhat perturbed by the whole situation. Kolchek himself sat, with a rather large smile on his face, a steaming cup of tea in his hands as he looked up at the slightly portly diplomat who looked down at him. He squinted slightly as the sun shone into his eyes. His accent was thick, but Kolchek was fluent. Lavenhurst however had no clue what was going on, and whas esasperated at his commanding officers insistence on "Tea for our guest!"

"He sends us his, and the Grand-Dukes regards and thanks in response to this situation. Though he said no to the tea." Kolchek look slightly miffed, but then resumed his happy tirade. "They say that whatever resources we may need, are at our disposal. What a nice gentleman don't you think? He did say something about some Vermandoisien forces arriving from the south. You might have noticed him wringing his hands when he said that? Apparently they're somewhat short staffed. Some Gendarmeries, civil officers who are already trying their best to evacuate all this." He threw his hand around the busy airport. "Apparently they don't trust the Covenantians all that much. Can't blame them really." Lavenhurst nodded. "No sir, not in my experience." Kolchek nodded. His tanned skin glistened with a bead of sweat. It was a warm day today. Green eyes and sandy hair of the southerners. Lavenhurst knew a lot were put off by his friendly demeanor. He trusted the man, and that's all that mattered. "Seems our friends to the north are up to their usual colonial antics. Shame they're just a couple hundred years too late. They're not the only ones who're stuck in the past around here however." The Brigadier General failed to elaborate. Covenantian expansion here halts here with us. The city is still under control of Guillaume, he gets to decide who it goes too. They can go suck a lemon if they don't like it." He smiled warmly at the diplomat, spoke briefly in french and nodded. The man bowed smartly and walked off. Kolchek sipped his tea. "Tell our friends that they're too move no further south, to do so will be interpretated as a deliberate attempt to disturb the peace. Tell them to get these people out before they can start playing colonial again."

"See if you can contact those Vermandoisiens heading up to us from the south. Either way, Second Brigade is just disembarking. Have them set up along the south side of the city, letting first brigade elements already there head inwards and regulate traffic. When third gets here in about three hours, tell them to take up positions facing the Covenantians. We'll have most of the Civilians out who want to leave by then. I don't want to cause a scene you know?" He looked up at Lavenhurst who nodded back. "Next couple of hauls will bring in the 277th Mech and the 9th Engineers. They'll be here by a couple days end. I asked if they could spare more transports but there's a lot of heavy lifting going on up north, this is as much as they could spare right now." Both looked towards the whine of the heavy lift transport struggling its way into the sky, heading north. "I know we're to not try and cause a diplomatic incident, or Llyelin will have my head but don't hesitate to give those jolly bastards to our north a good kicking if they act up okay?"
"Is that an order sir?" Lavenhurst inquired, a glint in his eye. Kolchek just smiled back. "A suggestion. Though the paperwork will say it's an order. If we can wrangle what Llyelin wants down here then we'll receive a nice visit from Marshal Bask. So try not to smash the city up too much."
"I can't promise anything sir." Lavenhurst stared impassively ahead as he said this. Kolchek drained what was left in his cup. "Can't believe he denied the tea." He muttered as he stood. "What kind of Frenchman doesn't accept tea around here?"

[Pontchateau]

"Laurine!," Guillaume bellowed from the next room. "I need you to send an immediate communiqué to Vermandois."

Laurine hurried into the room.

"To whom shall I send it, Sir?"

"Oh, I don't know...their leader...their Grand People's Choice...their God, for all I know....whoever the hell is in charge over there. Don't bother me with trivia."

"I'll check our files, sir..."

"Good, you do that. Now, take this down verbatim:

Dear...whoever...

Greetings in the name of Guillaume, Archduke of the Grand Duchy of Pontchateau.

I'm sure your Excellency is quite aware of the anarchy into which Nouvel Acadie has fallen. I am writing to assure you that Pontchateau has remained an island of stability in the midst of this chaos. As our nearest neighbor, we believe it to be in our mutual interest to establish diplomatic relations and recognition. Many nations are descending on the former duchies of Nouvel Acadie like vultures dividing the spoil, and the security of the region depends on very few of us.

You have probably already noted that the Acadiens have united with Scow Creek, and now occupy both Isle des Feux and the Streion Peninsula to your south. We must admit that we are at a total loss as to the aspirations of this new nation, as they have jettisoned the traditional noble structure that characterized the former Kingdom. It will be important to watch and observe.

I should add that we have noted that Vermandoisean troops have begun marching up the coast towards Maisonneuve. While this is outside the Duchy of Pontchateau, we are watching closely, as we hope that the chaos there doesn't spread to our lands. We were hoping that you might share your plan for restoring order in Maisonneuve, so that we may be of assistance and not an impediment.

Yours,

Guillaume

Now send that immediately. Hopefully, their response will be reveal whether this is truly the Vermandoisean forces, or some rogue militia.

Oh, and Laurine....when you're done with that, send a bottle of our finest wine to the Iryllians in the north.

I can't believe they think we drink tea here...."

[Greater Orleans]

Lejos, St-Denis

The towns people came running as the trucks rolled into the small rural town. they were piled high with loaves of bread, canned goods, medical supplies, water purification tablets, fertilisers, fuel, and clothes. The starving locals rushed up to the trucks and the soldiers on board and walking beside them passed and threw out supplies to the them. It was a scene of cheering and happiness, and one mirrored in many of the small towns largely abandoned by the Duchy of St-Denis' official government when they fled south. But all was not as it seemed.

Captain Xanti Aldana, clad in a plain black bicorne and a flowing black trench coat, strode straight for the centre of the town. He was looking for whoever held authority in this town, and soon found them. Throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the Lejos town hall, he marched in and straight up to the group of four elderly men sitting around a circular table towards the back of the hall. This council of elders had taken over running of their town and the surrounding area after the Duchess Yohanna had left, and they had been excitedly discussing the arrival of aid in the town when the door was thrown open and a black-clad figure approached them.

"I am Captain Aldana, of Distribution Force 14," said the figure, "we are here to save your people at a very reasonable price." The elderly men looked at each other, a little scared. "You will surrender your authourity here to His Regal Lordship, Grand-Regent Dufort, and sign this town and surrounding area over to the Grand Duchy of Orleans." One of the men began to open his mouth to protest, or at least attempt to haggle down, these unreasonable demands, but then Aldana drew a gun. "Or," he continued, "I kill you all."

An accord was signed, the aid distributed, and a small garrison left while Aldana and the bulk of his force continued west. Back on the road, Aldana shuddered. He was not a brutal man, but he had been deemed a "grain-hoarder" by Dufort's men, and the only way he could prevent the starvation of his wife, son, and baby daughter was to prove his loyalty to the new government. And this was the way he had do it.

***

Palace Square, Labroude, Orleans

Most of the rubble had now been cleared from where the Duchess' palace had used to stand. Now that space was a alive with activity: a great project was underway. About a week and a half after taking control of Orleans and evilily bringing ethnic tensions to the surface for his own advantage, Dufort changed his tune and called for unity and peace. The Dictator then announced that a great Statehouse would be built upon the site of the palace, where elected representatives would be sent to debate the great issues at hand, and so prevent such violence. It was ironic and untrue, but Dufort's complete control over the Duchy's media made that an irrelevant titbit.

Devin Varnham, Admiral of the Duchy's small fleet, stood at the side of the square watching the people of Labroude scurry around to build this structure. He was under no illusion to what Dufort's real plans were. To set himself up as the defender of the persecuted minorities, and as the bringer of democracy, despite him being the antithesis of them both. Varnham had come to Orleans along with Dufort and the aid convoy, as the Captain of the OSS Teller. However now, as Admiral, he Captained the flagship of Dufort's new fleet, the OSS Order. Oceani, like him, who had sided with Dufort had been rewarded with swift promotion while those who had refused to betray democracy and their country had received less favourable treatment.

Varnham's mobile buzzed in his pocket and he checked the text. A sly grin spread across his face as he read it, and he strode into the square. "My lord!" he called out, and one of the men laying bricks for the statehouse turned around. It was Dufort. As a part of the Dictator's attempt to present himself as a man of the people, he himself had ditched his naval jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and gotten to work along with the residents of Labroude in building this structure. But now he dusted himself off and strode over to his Admiral, who he met halfway across the square.

"Admiral," the dictator addressed him warmly, "what news do you bring?"

"Only that another town in St-Denis now lies under our control," reported Varnham. "The town of Lejos, about halfway across St-Denis, was been won for us by that talented young Captain Aldana. It's a small town, but sizeable in comparison to many of the small settlements out that far west."

Dufort smiled and nodded. "Very good," he said, "give that man my compliments and see that his family are given the option to be rehoused somewhere more comfortable, should they wish to be. It is important," he continued, "that we are see to reward the faithful as much as we punish the disloyal."

"Well actually that reminds me," started Varnham, "about half an hour ago I received a call saying that they would be running security tests in the detention block, so not to worry if the alarms sound."

Dufort nodded, and returned to work. He and Varnham were both totally unaware that the call had been a sham.....

[Drekhi]

Royal Council Chambers, Gaspé

Torbald Strom looked at the reports one last time. There were still issues plaguing the nation, what with the kidnap of Isabelle, and the sudden influx of other nations picking at the pieces, but all in all, the reports were good. The monarchy was secure, though more devolved, which they could work with, and doubtless their defense of Bourbon-Maine would find favour, even if the citizens of the Duchy would never return to the area. The final skirmishes were just taking place, and it seemed that another set of reinforcements would be arriving in the area, along with some civilians, not just as a defending force now, but as an occupying one. Their scientists' attempts to rectify the radiation problem in Picardie would probably also find them favour in the eyes of the Acadiens. His job was done here. He grabbed the last few things that he'd taken with him, and strode outside, to where a small private jet waited for him. He could do more from Drekhi now than hanging around in a city that seemed soon to be occupied by non-Acadiens. As he climbed the steps to the cabin, he realised he hadn't heard back from the scientists for quite a while. Settling back into his seat, he made a call.

Somewhere in Picardie

A phone rang. Eva picked it up. "Hello?"

"This is Mr Strom, Head of the Civil Service. Do you have anything to report on your progress?"

"We did it. We reversed the radiation problem. All the crops are restored, the area is safe."

"Excellent. Now, the situation has changed. We may end up occupying that land, so would you mind running some final tests, and then sitting tight? Once Bourbon-Maine is sorted, we'll come and pick you up."

"Understood, sir. Wait, what's that?!"

"What's what?"

"Do you hear it? The buzzing? What's that light? Oh, how marvelous!"

"I don't hear any buzzing. What light? What's going on?"

"Oh, it's glorious? I don't know what it is, but it's definitely the best thing I've ever seen. It's a-"

Silence. The phone went gone dead. Torbald frowned. Something had happened in Picardie. He wasn't sure what, but he definitely wasn't going to risk his people occupying it just yet.

Bourbon-Maine

The skirmishes were dying down now. The fresh influx of troops and equipment had created an overwhelming superiority, both on land and on air. The Dualshot DR-440 rifles were completely nullifying all troop armour, sending magnetically-propelled rounds at insane speeds, even punching through tank plates when at the right angle, and the plasma setting, though shorter range, made mincemeat of anything close, armour or no. There were the occasional misfires, notably the time when a two plasma streams collided and showered everyone within ten metres with the stuff, but the more reliable Myraxian armaments took up the slack. In the air, the unwieldy airships were cut to shreds by the fast-paced Wyvern-Class fighter jets, and the Dragon-Class bombers made life on the Shimazu backlines a living hell. So far, the chlorine trifluoride had not been used, but only because it hadn't been necessary.

Sometimes, a group of Shimazu would hole up in a building, barricading the doors, and filling anyone who came close full of lead. But then the Reaper-Class Mechs would come in. More like an armoured and augmented exoskeleton than a true mech, the fast-paced juggernauts would charge into the buildings, sometimes leaping into second-storey windows, sometimes climbing up the sides of the building with their clawed boots and gauntlets, sometimes just smashing through the wall. Invariably, the soldiers had about two minutes to live, and one of two decisions. Either, they could run outside, and get torn to pieces by gunfire from the waiting soldiers, or they could stay indoors, and get ripped to shreds by a thing that seemed more bestial than human, with glowing red eyes set into a faceplate shaped like a skull and blades and claws sprouting from their limbs. Most chose the soldiers as a quicker death.

General Alva oversaw it all, as she created hell for the Shimazu. She felt only satisfaction as she wreaked havok upon them, and had no mercy for captured prisoners, sentencing them to work in the underground farms in Drekhi, where they would never see any light again, except the light from the hazardous lava pools that kept the plants warm and growing. Some she simply executed on the spot. The only thing she had refused to turn her hand to was the chlorine trifluoride, the fires of hell that sat in their tanks, waiting only for the signal, taunting her and tempting her. But she wouldn't use them, not yet.

[North Covenant]

Restin, North Covenant

Sir we have received news about the rumored "Covenetian Fleet" in Acadien waters. Rear Admiral Pierce is on video chat from Prajil.

"Put the Admiral on," Ralston ordered. "Admiral" he continued "report your current situation you've been in the dark for weeks now"

"Sorry sir we've been trying to make contact but have been blocked."

"By who Admiral?"

"The First Fleet under Admiral Maximus sir. We don't know how but they appeared after the storm. The Admiral was completely unaware of recent history and didn't look a year older than his portrait at HQ. Seems the Myraxian expedition has been found in Archon."

"Admiral rumors have spread that a Covenetian fleet has been establishing themselves in Archon we assumed it was you."

"Sir with all due respect we've been stuck on Prajil since the hurricane crippled our fleet. I've sent the video logs of our chat as well. We've got a whole island nation that can vouge for us if need be."

Ralston raised his eyebrow at the comment.

"The Royaume is effectively abandoning their country. The Prajuli don't seem inclined to join them with the recent events they are attempting to establish an independent Prajuhl again. We are attempting to help but some diplomats and aid ships are necessary. Our fleet isn't moving again it's not worth it. The ships are being gutted for much-needed supplies. We need to find Maximus sir I fear he is stuck in the past."

"Thank you, admiral rest easy, Captain Talken will investigate the appearance of the first fleet we will bring what we can to support the Prajuli."

Ralston ended the call. slumping back into his chair his once black hair had grayed significantly in his two terms. He called the departments of state and defence to get things moving.

[Vermandois]

One. South |
Brouge, Mainland Vermandois |
The country recently went many great changes, both political and cultural. To recap the events in short:

1. Fridrcar Son Goad, the former prime minister is gone
2. The Military declared a state of emergency
3. People are angry
4. Angry people cause things to be even worse
5. Things are worse then they were
6. Return to point number three

With no time or willpower to explain, the commander in chief, often referred to as sir, or by his mother as Jason de Galagine was forced to explain the situation in more detail than six recursive points. As he was sitting at the military headquarters, in his humble office when probably the first time someone from the outside world tried to contact the burning hell. It wasn't obvious that someone was still out there as most of the countries around Vermandois simply fell into disarray or disappeared from the face of the earth. Back to Jason, the country is still recovering from the most brutal of crackdowns the military has down so far which is certain to cause more anarchy even though it was an attempt at creating something more centralised than a few soldiers beating on locals. As far as anyone was concerned Jason was the leader of Vermandois, or at least what is left of it. That being said most of the public services are only available at two select areas: The Capital Brouge and the second largest city Maléno, the rest are left to fend for themselves and often fend for themselves against Jason's military force. From the lucky few who were for once protected from the military, by the military, there was one called Arnold Claure his job at the emergency state of Vermandois was simple, manage any foreign contact, which there was none of, which in turn made his job awfully easy and sounded like he was getting paid by the government's corruption as he was Jason's only friend. It wasn't often that Arnold would come to Jason's office as they would usually meet and talk in the afternoons when they finish doing all their work. Today, Arnold went in the office interrupting Jason with a communication link from the outside world. communiqué in the name of one who calls himself Guillaume, Archduke of the Grand Duchy of Pontchateau. in Jason's eyes it was a very long title for such an unknown name. At least now the name is well known as the first contact since the Prime Minister disappeared and the military took over. "What kind of reply should I send the Duchy, sir?" asked Arnold as he sat across from Jason in the offce. Jason raised a brow since he didn't know what kind of reply to send himself. Eventually he decided on a selection of many words arranged like so:

Dearest Guillaume, Archduke of the Grand Duchy of Pontchateau,

I have received your communiqué and am disgraced to see my name written as "whoever" but leaving that debate to be settled later I understand your concerns.

I am quite aware of the recent troubles that have struck our general area and the prevalent lack of law and order in both our own little zones of control. It is the first time I hear of this places called "Pontchateau" and I think you would also like to hear about our own place called "Vermandois" currently consisting of two cities: Brouge the capital and Maléno. Our armed forces have carried out operations outside these two cities to try and restore order and in attempt to establish a new democratic society. It appears that some of these operations managed to expel certain terror organizations once loyal to the former government of Vermandois but now anarchist factions. Said factions are the ones who call themselves the Akataeb led by a person that can be presumed as dead: Abdul Nakhab a very dangerous man who if not already dead, should be eliminated. They hail from a culture not similar to our own and they do not speak the common French language. They speak a foreign language not known to many people that we cannot named. Unfortunately we lack and military power to take care of them and prevent them from approaching Maisonneuve whatever their intent is doing there. I can only keep guessing what they are looking for and I think the decision of what to do with them should be best left to you.

Concerning less important issues. I think it would be best if we establish a good fast communications link to cooperate and further bring order to this troublesome area. I have arranged a committee who will be responsible for any diplomatic efforts between Vermandois and Pontchateau. For any future communications please refer to Arnold Claure who will be heading the committee.

Kindest Regards
Jason de Galagine, Commander in Chief of the Vermandoisien Armed Forces

OOC: Second part including the Akataeb will be posted on Sunday

[Vermandois]

Two. North |
Forward Operations Base Beyyrut|

"Neshaan?" Said the corporal, part of a reconnaissance unit in the Akataeb military. "Please, Come in. Have some coffee" Neshaan offered the corporal a cup gesturing it towards him. It was traditional to offer coffee to guests even though the corporal was one of Neshaan's soldiers they never talked until now. He sipped from the hot coffee and began reciting what he was told to tell the field marshal: "North of us, around 100 kilometres near the coast is the city of Maisonneuve. It appearers to be an anarchy with people relying on other's kindness, no public services no police no nothing." Neshaan listened carefully and though to himself. He kept his thoughts and told the corporal "You've done well, I have another job for you: go to the commanders and tell them that we will be heading there and occupying the city. Approach peacefully and do not disturb the local population. Now go my son." The corporal put the unfinished cup on the desk and went outside.

Neshaan in his mind ran scenarios on how the city will respond to the Akataeb approach, are they living happily? if so they will reject and try to fight back. Are they living in crime ridden hell? They'll happily accept the public services Akataeb can provide. Right now Neshaan needs support from anywhere, and a source of funding for the organization. He needs a place to stay and allies to help him.

In a week time the Akataeb will begin moving north and within hours it will arrive at the city first from the horizon and next near the edge. Neshaan early waiting for someone to represent the city to come towards him.

[Pontchateau]

Laurine had served as Guillaume's Chief of Staff for as long as he had in power as the Duke of Pontchateau. While she had become accustomed to his alternating bouts of petulance and outrage, his descent into madness was even too much for her. From a phone in an government office maintained by Iryllia in Pointe d'Est, where she had sought sanctuary, she called the Acadien Rpyal Palace in tears.

"Hermine, is that you?! Oh, it is so good to hear your voice.!"

Hermine LaGorge, the Queen's Chief of Staff over in the 'new' city of Gaspé, in the new Acadien homeland on the Island of Prajuhl, was widely seen as the key operative in the Royal Palace.

"Hermine, you have no idea what is going on over here. It's hell. Guillaume has truly lost his mind. He is obsessed with the idea that surrounding nations are going to invade Pontchateau. He sits in his castle, murmuring to himself and screaming at everyone. He's accused the entire kitchen staff of being traitors, and had them all shot right there in the kitchen," she added through tears. "I couldn't take it any more. I've fled to Pointe d'Est, and I hope to get over to Gaspé as soon as I can.

Hermine, ever the eyes and ears of the Royaume, pressed for details on the situation on the mainland.

"It's awful," Laurine responded. "Guillaume has deputized roving bands of ruffians to terrorize the population into his submission. He is confiscating homes, businesses, and bank accounts. People are starving and being rounded up with no charges, no trials, and for no crimes. Those who can flee, have. Many are headed inland, where some have been rumored to have been taken as slaves by Erutenia. Some are seeking refuge in the lands held by Drekhi. others are headed towards Vermandois. Thousands of Acadiens who chose not to emigrate are all regretting their decision. It's just awful..."

They spoke a bit more, and Hermine assured her that she would convey this to the Queen. As they hung up, Hermine paused and shook her head, convinced that the chaos on the Archon mainland was not not going to end for quite some time.

[Nouvel Acadie]

The rebuilding process in the Kingdom's new homeland was going well - ahead of schedule even - and the Dukes and Duchesses were summoned to an official Royal Council meeting at the Palace, still under construction, in the new city of Gaspé. Queen Marie-Collette opened with an explanation of events taking place in Pontchateau on the Archon mainland, and awaited the Council's response...

"I had hoped that our involvement on the mainland was now over," said Jean-Michel. "Apparently, it is not."

"But, Jean-Michel, we have so much going on here," responded Henri de Saulteaux. "A massive effort was put into the removal of our people to this Island, and while the mainland remains in chaos, those who remained chose to remain behind. How far can we extend our resources?"

Well, many of them did not have a choice. Guillaume blocked the roads and prevented many from leaving. And don't forget, we created a society that encouraged the people to be loyal to their Dukes. They can't be blamed for being left behind. They are still Acadiens, and they are now under the bootheel of a madman."

André-Deion spoke up. "We would not need a full-scale invasion...but we could make our presence known. We took out Édouard when it was necessary," he added, glancing at Gen. Chausseur - "And it may be necessary to take out Guillaume now. He made himself an adversary by refusing to cooperate with the relocation efforts - and now he is the primary cause of instability. General, do you agree we can do this?"

General Chausseur responded, almost too eagerly for comfort.

"Of course we can. He has no real defense except for a small guard that serves out of sheer terror. There are two, maybe three places where we could land and take him by surprise fairly easily. I would strongly recommend that we contact our allies in Drekhi, Iryllia, and Vermandois and let them know what we decide. It is important that they understand we would not be a threat. If anything, stability in the region might enable a final resolution to international boundaries, creating a win-win situation all around."

As the Council continued to deliberate, it was clear that a consensus was quickly developing that the hasty withdrawal form the mainland left some things unfinished, and an opportunity existed to stabilize the region. Finally, even Henri agreed, although more out of peer pressure and a desire for consensus than out of enthusiasm.

The Queen instructed the General to prepare and execute a plan to neutralize Guillaume, and offered to have the Palace staff notify regional allies of the decision.

[Nouvel Acadie]

CONFIDENTIAL RECONNAISSANCE REPORT

Queen Marie-Collette de Gaspé
Deuxième Royaume de Nouvel Acadie

Your Highness,

Please consider the following report as we mobilize to restore order on Archon. It is submitted with a high degree of confidence.

Current conditions on Archon

In Pontchateau, we confirm the reports that Guillaume's staff member Laurine delivered to the Royal Council. Guillaume is erratic in behavior and has established an authoritarian Police State. Thousands of former Acadiens have fled the former Duchy, and squalid refugee camps have spontaneously developed on the borders of the former Duchy. In these areas - as in most of the 'Disputed" territories, anarchy is the rule. War Lords and bandits are terrorizing the stranded population. An immediate invasion of Pontchateau by Nouvel Acadie is the recommended course of action to restore order and reclaim some of these lands, especially along the coast.

It will be necessary to notify allies and other area nations as to our intentions. An analysis of follows:

Dominion of Drekhi

The Dominion has been a reliable ally, and has established stability on the lands it occupies. By all reports, they have largely restored the fertility and productivity of the lands in the former Duchy of Bourbon-Maine. I strongly recommend that we invite Drekhi to initiate an eastward advance to reclaim anarchic lands immediately on their border, confident that Nouvel Acadie will support their advance and annexation of this area.

Republic of Vermandois

The Republic appears to continue to struggle maintaining control over the whole of their territory. I do not believe they can be relied upon, at this time, to join in any forces. What is particularly troubling is that the advance up the coast does not appear to be government-led, but is instead controlled by the Akataeb, a rebellious group that is fixed on continuing to invade from the south. It will be necessary for Nouvel Acadie to establish a beachhead just north of their current position to prevent further Akataeb territorial expansion.

Stratocrastic Territories of Iryllia

Iryllia has established control over the southern portion of Pointe-d'Est, but the peninsula between their holdings and that of North Covenant remains in dispute. It is strongly recommended that we reiterate our support of Iryllia, and their claim to this area.

Great Kingdom of Frezko Islands

To date, the Frezko Islands have not been an active participant in conflicts in the Archon mainland. However, given our support of Iryllia's claim over Pointe-d'Est, it is possible that North Covenant may engage in aggressive actions. It will be important to draw Frezko Islands into an alliance, especially as it relates to maintaining control over ocean shipping lanes. I would strongly recommend establishing an alliance as soon as possible with the Frezko Islands to avoid our fighting on numerous fronts at once.



Please advise
Général Rémy Chausseur
Commandant of the Armed Forces
Nouvel Acadie

[Pontchateau]

Philippe Cartier was, by most accounts, the wealthiest man in Pontchateau next to the Duke. Of course, the differences between them were many: The Duke amassed his fortune through freezing and confiscating bank accounts of enemies, both real and imagined, and taking lands that suited him. Philippe made his money the old fashioned way: industrial entrepreneurship.

Philippe's home - compound, actually - was named La Ferronnerie - "The Ironworks" - and it had developed into a town unto itself. Cartier's home, a foundry, warehouse, worker's dormitories, markets, a church, and even an elementary school and bank - had transformed his estate into a self-contained society. 20 acres surrounded by a 5-meter-high iron fence kept him relatively safe from the chaos on the outside, yet he always lived in fear that he would be the Duke's next target.

He attempted to keep this threat to a minimum by being of use to the Duke, and weekly deliveries of iron goods, fencing, and weapons to the Duke's Manorhouse, all at severely discounted prices, had so far insured that his complex remained safe.

The relative safety of La Ferronnerie had also made it a magnet for refugees, for those fleeing Guillaumes Secret Police, and for those whose homes and land had been confiscated. Unwilling to say "no" to these unfortunates, his complex was bursting at the seams with terrified locals seeking sanctuary.

On more than one occasion, Philippe had been questioned by the Duke's goons as to the growing population of La Ferronnerie, suspecting he was harboring 'enemies of the State." Each time Philippe had convinced them that the Duke's requests for armaments required more workers, and he was only housing the minimum number of workers necessary to sustain the operation. He had even jokingly suggested that many 'industrial accidents' had forced him to constantly recruit new workers, a condition the Secret Police seemed to buy as legitimate. In reality, Philippe was losing money hand over fist, so when Général Chausseur sought a meeting with him, he welcomed the possibility of political change.

"I will be straightforward with you, Philippe," Chausseur began. "An assault by the Kingdom to take down Guillaume is imminent. We are aware of your delicate situation, and were hoping you could assist us."

"Général, consider me on board. If the Kingdom can re-establish control over Pontchateau, you would see spontaneous celebrations in the streets."

"Excellent. What can you tell me about Guillaume's Manor?"

"His home is strongly fortified. In fact, you saw that iron fence surrounding my own complex here when you arrived? Guillaume had us erect the same barrier around his Manor."

"What is the weakpoint of the fortification?" Chausseur asked.

Philippe walked around to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a ring of keys. Then he said, "I am."

Philippe continued.

"Each week we deliver a tractor-trailer full of material to the Duke. We enter around the back, and of course, we have keys to the rear gate - after all, we designed it. We then pull up to the loading docks in the rear of the Manor House, and his staff unloads the goods into his storage area. On our next delivery, we can load the trailer with your men, and rive right to the Manor House. As we unload, you will be able to infiltrate the Manor House through the basement area. I can show you the layout of the Manor House. Guillaume never leaves, as he is paranoid of the outside. You should be able to make quick work of his staff and capture him."

They continued their conversation, and laid out the plans for the assault on Pontchateau.

The Général left, convinced of the strength of this "Trojan Horse" - musing to himself that he would be calling this "Opération Chévalier."

Philippe Cartier breathed a sigh of relief, believing an end to the hell of Guillaume's reign was in sight.

[Nouvel Acadie]

TO: THE MILITARY COMMAND OF THE DOMINION OF DREKHI
FROM: GÉNÉRAL RÉMY CHAUSSEUR, COMMANDER OF THE ARMED FORCES OF NOUVEL ACADIE

THE ACADIEN MILITARY HAS IDENTIFIED AND WILL BE EXECUTING AN UNDERCOVER OPERATION TO TAKE CONTROL OF THE MANOR HOUSE IN ALLIANCE, PONTCHATEAU. WE MUST TAKE NO OVERT ACTIONS UNTIL THE MANOR HOUSE IS SECURE AND THE COMMUNICATIONS CENTER NEUTRALIZED. UPON SECURING THE MANOR HOUSE, WE WILL SIGNAL YOU THAT A FULL INVASION OF THE DISPUTED TERRITORIES IS READY TO BEGIN.

[Scow Creek]

National Assembly, Er'šu-nedes, Scow Creek

Tunís Qorsa, Leader of the National Assembly, called an unusual Emergency Session of the National Council as a result of the deteriorating situation on the Archon Mainland. Andru Mánle, Commandant of the Coast Guard, began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending this emergency session. We are here because we have been asked to participate in an operation to resolve the chaos that is a growing threat on the Archon mainland.

As you probably know, Guillaume, Duke of Pontchateau, has turned his Duchy into a Police State. There are numerous reports that he has gone insane, and he has begun confiscating lands and randomly jailing - and slaughtering - random residents. Refugee camps have sprung up south and west of Pontchateau, " he added, pointing to the map.

"Nouvel Acadie is working with Drekhi to occupy most of the Disputed Territories. It is not for that operation that our assistance has been requested.

This area along the coast," he added, "is tenuously held by Vermandois. However, we know that the reality is that this strip is held by the Akataeb rebels, who threaten further instability in the area. While Nouvel Acadie will contain them in the north, the refugee camps down here are under a very real an imminent threat by these rebels. We have been asked to send in our Coast Guard to secure the camps, occupy this small area, and provide protection and evacuation for the refugees. We have been requested to sail as soon as Nouvel Acadie takes control of Alliance, at which point the Drekhi and Acadien advances will commence to the north, providing a distraction for our operation to take place."



Mánle finished, and looked to the Council for instructions.

After significant discussion of the risks of the operation to Scow Creek, the National Council unanimously approved the operation.

Mánle returned to the base to prepare.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Manor House Loading Dock, Alliance, Pontchateau

Guy Désours, the regular tractor trailer driver for deliveries from La Ferronnerie to the Manor House, took his usual route, on the regular delivery day, at his usual speed, and pulled up to the iron wall at Guillaume’s compound. As was his customary practice, he jumped out of the truck, opened the gate, and drove the truck through. Once passing through, he threw on the emergency break, and walked back to the gate, pretending to lock it – but leaving it open just in case a quick exit was necessary.

He backed the truck up to the loading dock at the rear of the Manor House, and called inside to let the warehouse workers know he had arrived. Four burly workers, hauling guns over their shoulders, came out to the loading dock, as if by rote, not looking particularly thrilled at the prospect of off-loading another delivery of machinery, steel, and armaments.

Guy jumped onto the back bumper, and unlatched the back door. With one motion he thrust it open and leaped off to the side.

In less than ten seconds, the four workers were mowed down in a hail of bullets. Forty of Chausseur’s soldiers moved quickly out of the trailer, and took up positions on the loading dock and throughout the warehouse facility. Chausseur led his men to the far wall, and checked the crude schematic that Philippe had drawn for him back at La Ferronnerie. Philippe had indicated that a red door would take them directly into the kitchen.

Apparently, it had been a while since Philippe had paid a personal visit to the warehouse area. Three doors led from the far wall, all covered in three fresh coats of red paint. Chausseur quickly split his men up, and all three doors were assaulted.

Chausseur found himself in the Kitchen, and even smiled to himself as the image of a game show crossed his mind. As his team entered, the kitchen workers looked on in fear, believing at first that this was one of Guillaume’s roving bands of secret police thugs. A woman standing before a huge pot of soup on a commercial burner immediately noticed the tell-tale Acadien fleur-de-lis on one of the soldier’s shoulders, and cried out, “Thank God!” In a fleeting moment, the workers realized that this was a rescuing force, and within seconds the invading soldiers and the kitchen staff realized they were on the same side in this operation.

The Head Chef made his way to Chausseur, and in hushed tones and hand signals gave directions to Guillaume’s command center on the third floor of the Manor House. Much to Chausseur’s relief, the Chef’s directions matched the ones Philippe had given him. The Team headed quickly and silently up the stairs.

3rd Floor Command Center, Manor House, Alliance, Pontchateau

After eliminating four palace guards on the way, the Team came to the double-oak doors that lead to Guillaume’s Command center. Even through the closed doors, they could Guillaume shouting, nearly barking, and making no discernible sense. They burst through the doors, to find Guillaume berating some young man working furiously at a communications console. Guillaume and the young man looked up in surprise, and in one swift moment, Guillaume was restrained by three soldiers and deposited in a chair. The rest of the team secured the complex of rooms, and Chausseur began his interrogation.

The young man – who gave his name as Claude – cooperated with Chausseur, shooting nervous glances over at Guillaume as he pulled up the information that Chausseur requested on his systems.

Chausseur poured over a series of emails sent by Guillaume to generals in North Covenant, and another series of emails back and forth with Akataeb rebels. This latter communication worried him.

Claude pointed Chausseur to a microphone, which was used to deliver official propaganda over the radio airwaves. As Claude turned it on, Chausseur took control and announced the overthrow of Guillaume in a radio broadcast to the Duchy. Guillaume began screaming, and as casually as he could, Chasseur lifted his gun, and, with a single bullet, put an end to the outburst.

* * * * *

As Claude continued to print document and copy data onto thumb drives, one of Chausseur’s men came through the door, looking ashen and a bit horrified. He spoke to Chausseur in low tones.

Chausseur commanded some of his men in the command center to assist Claude and wrap up Guillaume’s body in a tarp, and signaled the rest to follow him and the other soldier down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the warehouse. They turned sharply and headed through the “other” red door, down a narrow, wet staircase into the basement where the other team was waiting.

Manor House Dungeon, Alliance, Pontchateau

Chausseur was a man who had seen the horrors of war, and little surprised him…although those who knew him most intimately knew he had a raging intolerance of injustice.

Even in the hell-hole of the slaves quarters of Ahalmaz, he had never seen such conditions.

As he moved through four inches of rancid water that covered the room, more than 200 people – chained, emaciated, half-alive moaned and cried out for help. The soldiers worked feverishly to cut down five men who were hanging from the ceiling from chains attached to their ankles. In the corner, a soldier relying on rudimentary training, was helping a women deliver a baby. One corpse – which had been bloating in the water for at least two weeks – burst open, the stench from which caused one soldier to vomit.

* * * * *

La Ferronnerie, Pontchateau

Throughout the Duchy, church bells were ringing and people were celebrating in the streets in reaction to the news. In one village, pent-up oppression expressed itself in a mob beating of one of Guillaume’s secret police squads.

At La Ferronnerie, the celebration was cut short as residents set to work transforming the school’s gymnasium into a makeshift hospital. Medical professionals – most of whom who had been out of work since Guillaume’s reign of terror – raided the pharmacies of closed hospitals and headed for La Ferronnerie. In the Main House, the Iron Works staff was still coordinating the details of a triage operation as the tractor trailer pulled up, laden with those who had been detained in Guillaume’s dungeon. Armed with the certainty of their liberation and a new hope for their lives, the iron workers set themselves to the task with a vengeance. Victims were gingerly removed, one by one, from the tractor trailer.

Chausseur took Philippe aside, and, in spite of the pressing triage operation, broached a different subject.

“We have learned that the Akataeb rebels are somewhat in disarray, but their plan – coordinated with Guillaume – was to invade and become part of his security forces. It is imperative – once this medical operation is underway – that they be stopped. These iron walls you build – how quickly can you get your men to the northern reaches of the Akataeb and start building?”

“I’m sure we can start tomorrow, Rémy,” Philippe answered. “But I can’t bankroll this myself. And can you provide protection for my men?”

“Don’t worry about the money. We’ve seized Guillaume’s accounts, and can pay you and your men handsomely. And as soon as I get a radio call out, the Acadien navy is ready to land at the precise location where I need you to start building.”

Two minutes later, Chausseur was on his military communications channel.

“Opération Chévalier is complete. Commence Invasion.”

[Scow Creek]

Colonie de l’Anse, Archon

Having been given the signal from Nouvel Acadie to commence the operation, the Scow Creek Navy had proceeded swiftly and unchallenged through the waters into the bay that lay between Vermandois proper and the coastal strip held by the Akataeb rebels. Upon arriving at the mouth of the bay, the sailors were taken by surprise at the vibrant, well-organized refugee camps they encountered.

Disembarking at a makeshift port area, Ándru Mánle, the Commandant did not have to search long to find a de facto leader of the refugees. The arrival of the ships had caused a great deal of excitement and fear, as the residents debated allowed as to whether this was a humanitarian invasion or yet another in the unending military exercises that had been rocking Archon over the years.

“Welcome,” said Jessé de la Montagne, as he extended his hand to Ándru, who appeared to be the obvious leader of this expedition. “Welcome to Colonie de l’Anse – "The Cove Colony."

Sqoáns, almost to a one, were fluent in both Sqoán and French, which made for a smooth conversation.

“I am Ándru Mánle, Commandant of the Navy of Scow Creek. We have been dispatched on this mission at the request of Nouvel Acadie to help restore order to Archon.” He continued to look around, and added, “It appears you have done a fine job creating order yourself here!.”

Jessé took pride in compliment, and offered to show Mánle around.

“We have at least 50,000 souls here, Sir,” he began. "As you can see, most of us have been here a while. We began as refugees from the western reaches of the Old Nouvel Acadie, many of us farmers crushed by the famine, some of us escaping the Shimazu invasion, and many of us, like me, refugees from Pontchateau. I was one of the stubborn ones – I didn’t leave when the nation was evacuated, believing we could make a go of it in Pontchateau. I suppose you’ve heard that Guillaume has turned that duchy into a living hell…”

Mánle stopped him mid-sentance. “Guillaume is dead. The Acadien forces have liberated Pontchateau and re-established some semblance of freedom there.”

“Guillaume is dead?!” de la Montagne responded, clasping his hands out in front of him. “Oh, thank God!”

The two men and their entourages continued to walk through the refugee camp. They passed dozens of tents, neatly arranged, markets where food and household wares were being traded, and then finally, rudimentary small homes constructed of lumber, sheet metal, and any other piece of material the refugees could scrounge up.

Finally, Mánle said, “You have done remarkable work here. To be honest, I expected much more dire circumstances. I expect, though, that you will want assistance moving back to Pontchateau? My understanding is that the Acadiens are planning on maintaining a permanent presence there.”

De la Montagne thought a moment, and answered, “I’m not quite sure of that, Ándru – may I call you Ándru?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You see, Guillaume was only one of our problems. Look over there, near that large tent,” he added, while pointing towards a group of children playing in the dusty road with a make-shift ball made of rolled-up cloth scraps.



“The people over there? They are Tuaregs – and part of our community. French-speakers, even,” he added with a smile. "They are also refugees – traitors in fact – they were part of the Akataeb rebels, and fled from the eastern coast. The Akataeb are our biggest fear now. Many of us who wanted to join the boatllift off of Archon were blocked by the Akataeb who seized the roads to the coast. They are brutal, Ándru, brutal against their own people, and many of them were fleeing at the same time we were. We formed an easy alliance with them, and we have worked together to build this camp. And this is working for us. I’m not sure that anyone wants to pull up and move back into their path.”

Ándru was silent, taking this all in. This was not the mission he expected.

“To be honest, Ándru, what we need more than anything is security here – safety from the daily worry that the Akataeb will begin moving inland, towards us. If you – or the Acadiens – can provide a military presence – at least one impressive enough to dissuade the Akataeb from further advances – that would be the biggest gift you could give us.”

They continued walking through the camp, until they came to a small rise high enough to give them a view of the surrounding landscape. De la Montagne continued to point out the aspects of the camp, and then pointed north and added, “And over there, that’s where the English settlement.”

“The English?”

“Yes, the people who formerly were part of the Sultanate of New Aersquire. They spoke English - Ah! In any event, they have rallied around a man named Thomas Wise, who has maintained much more of a posh settlement than we have here…”

Ándru jumped in.

“Thomas Wise?!”

“Yes – you are familiar with him?”

Ándru laughed.

“Yes – he was the heir to the Sultanate. The Sultanate collapsed when his sister murdered his father, and the nation plunged into a three-way civil war afterwards, causing its collapse. Thomas took refuge in Nouvel Acadie – I haven’t given him a thought since before the boatlift.”

“Well, I guess he decided to stick it out here. Those lands over there are actually a part of the old Sultanate, so I guess when the First Royaume collapsed, he moved back and made an effort to re-establish his own nation again. We have had an active trading relationship with them – I count them, too, as allies, but I also know they live inconstant fear of invasion – from Akataeb, from Guillaume, from Shimazu, even from contrary elements among his own people. If you are amenable to it, we can let him know that you have arrived.”

“Yes, do so, please,” Ándru replied. “Now, let’s get back to the ship, so we can map out the smartest way to secure your position here.”

[Nouvel Acadie]

It had been a long time since Hermine LaGorge was sent on a diplomatic mission. Yes, she was the Chief of Staff, and had acted as the de facto Secretary of State when necessary - but her last mission had shaken her up a bit. In the court of the maniacal Queen of Ahalmaz, she had barely made it out alive. And now, she was being sent as an Ambassador to a nomadic arab sect somewhere back in Archon, to meet with some warlord. As the helicopter touched down, she wondered if she should have worn a head covering, or somehow better prepared to meet with these people.

* * * * *

Dayak Najem was nothing like Hermine expected.

Young, affable, and strikingly handsome, Dayak brought her into a tent and offered her a seat. His bright blue robe was stunning, and he asked a young boy in the tent to bring over some eghajira[/b] for them both to drink. Hermine thanked them both (second-guessing whether she should have spoken to the boy or not), and took a sip of the liquid. Her eyes opened wide, and she coughed a bit, surprised more by the alcohol content than by the taste.

"This is our national drink, Miss LaGorge," Dayak said with a smile. "Fermented goat cheese, dates, sugar, and millet. We won't drink too much, don't worry," he added, his eyes smiling as wide as his mouth.

"I suppose you should know a little about us. We are the Tuareg, which some say means 'abandoned by God.'" He smiled again. "I suppose that is somewhat true. We are a nomadic people, although our wanderings have been curtailed as of late. Nations around us seem to like borders - and that is a concept that has rarely worked for us.

Some people call us the 'blue men,' as the indigo from our robes and veils often tinit our skin a bit. This here - he touched his head veil, which covered the top of his head and wrapped around his neck - is a [i]cheche - I believe that's the word used in French - it is the symbol of our people."

Hermine remarked that it was indeed beautiful, and asked if she had offended by not wearing some sort of head covering. Her trip had been sudden with little time to prepare."

Dayak laughed. "Not at all, Miss...in fact, in our culture, women do not wear veils."

Hermine reacted with surprise.

"In fact, that is just one of the problems we have with the Akataeb rebels in Vermandois. You see, we have always had a fairly egalitarian culture, insofar as the genders are concerned. In fact, our families are matrilineal. The Akataeb don't like that. They also don't like much about our culture - such as that music you hear from the next tent. Or the games our children are playing. Or the jewelry we create."

As he said that last word, he pulled out an ornate, silver zakkat - a stylized cross for which the Tuareg jewelers were famous. "Here, this is for you. And this," he added, as he picked up a meter-long silver sword - "is a takaba, one of our finest, for your Queen."

Hermine looked over the items, thanked him, and commented on the exquisite workmanship.

"So, as you can imagine, Miss LaGorge, we were not the Akataeb's favorites. We made an uncomfortable alliance with them when we thought it would get us a homeland...but that was a mistake. We soon found ourselves not 'pure' enough for them - our women too liberated, our music too pagan, our alcohol too strong, our children too free, our jewelry too similar to the infidels. The fact that we speak French as comfortably as we speak Tamasheq didn't help. And of course, we are not ethnic Arabs - we're Berbers. It didn't take long before they tried to control us - and our people will not be controlled.

We decided to leave the Akataeb - and we moved quickly. As we headed west, we ran into the Acadiens fleeing from Pontchateau, from Bourbon, from Picardie - and we found we had more in common with these French refugees than with the Akataeb. And so, we are making our home here. Now, we understand that Nouvel Acadie is seeking to re-establish some order in this area. If there is a way that we can preserve our way of life - and be assured of a solid defense against the Akataeb, who now see us as enemies - we have something to talk about."

[Nouvel Acadie]

Royal Palace, Gaspé, Nouvel Acadie

Queen Marie-Collette entered the Council Chambers, and the assembled members dutifully rose, as was their custom. The Queen motioned for them to sit, and approached the long table around which they sat. She placed a document before her on the table.

"We have received reports from our operation in Archon, and the reports are consistent - and positive. We have successfully removed Guillaume from power, and have found a strong ally in Philippe Cartier, with whom this operation could not have been successful. This man is not only a successful industrialist, he is a hero with a heart for the people of Pontchateau.

The Akataeb rebels from Vermandois have been halted in their northward march, as our military - working, once again, with Mr. Cartier - has constructed an Iron barrier separating the territory they hold from that which we now occupy.

In a fortunate turn of events, a vast number of Tuareg refugees have fled west from the Akataeb-held area, and met up with our own Acadiens who chose to remain behind during the migration. Many of them have gathered at the port near the Vermandoisean border and have established a market town which they call Colonie de l'Anse. Our allies from Scow Creek have successfully secured the area, and have entered into productive talks with both those in Colonie de l'Anse, and with the Tuaregs. The Tuaregs have expressed an interest in a continued relationship with the Kingdom - and have sent me this cross as a symbol of their good faith."

The Queen took out the silver gift she had received, and passed it around the table.

"I have had extensive conversations with Tunís Qorsa in Scow Creek throughout this process. As you know, they have been indispensible allies over the years. And under our new Constitution, there are very few differences between us. This Royaume has found that it can incorporate disparate peoples and still remain united under one Monarch and one flag.

Accordingly, under Art I Sec 4a of our Constitution, I am declaring the following annexations and additions to the Royaume:

First, the Duchy of Pontchateau is once again incorporated into the Royaume. We will be Knighting Phillipe Cartier as the new Duke of Pontchateau.

Second, The region between Pontchateau and the Akataeb rebels will now be known as Èsquirienne, and Thomas Wise will be Kinghted as the Duke. The Old City of Maisonneuve will be henceforth known as Old House.

Third, the Colonie de l'Anse will be admitted to the Royaume as a Free City. Until such time as they can elect their own Mayor, I am appointing Jessé de la Montagne as their first Mayor.

Fourth, we shall recognize the Azawad Autonomous Region as an integral part of Nouvel Acadie, and appoint Dayak Najem to represent the region on the Royal Council.

Finally, we shall recognize Scow Creek as an Autonomous Region of the Kingdom as well."

She signed the Proclamation and then revealed a new map of the Royaume for all to see.

[The Azawad]

"The deal has been agreed to, and the future is ours." The assembled family leaders whooped and clapped in support.

With these words, Dayak Najem opened the council of Kinship Lords in Azawad. The 'deal' to which he referred was an arrangement that protected Tuareg autonomy while providing military assistance, especially in the East.

"As you know,' he continued, "the Acadiens have proved to be agreeable allies. It was fortunate that as we left the Akataeb, we entered into agreeable arrangements with the Acadien refugees at Colonie de l'Anse. Not only have we benefited from trade through their port, they have vouched for us as a people to the greater Acadien Kingdom. With your support, the deal we proposed to the Acadien Royal Council has been accepted: they have declared The Azawad to be an Autonomous Region within Nouvel Acadie. That means that we have complete control over our internal customs and laws, while they are provising military defense - especially along the eastern border with the Akataeb. As we speak, the Acadien military has established a protective line of forts to our east, which means that we should be insulated from any efforts by the Akataeb to re-establish hegemony over our people.

To the North, Drekhi has proven to be a reliable ally to the Acadiens, and to the south, Vermandois appears to be bogged down in its own internal conflicts.

But to our west - the continent of Archon is wide open. Our scouts tell us that much of the land has been laid waste due to the War of Cold Sands and the invading Shimazu. But it is empty - and that means it is perfect for our flocks, for settlement, and for our nomadic pursuits. For those of you who have wished to expand and explore - our time has come.

I recommend a slow migration west - and as we do so, I implore each of you to integrate any of our brethren we may find there. For the first time in generations, we now have the opportunity to control our own destiny.

In celebration of our nationhood, I am suggesting that we re-institute the Cure Salée this year..."

He had not finished his sentence when the assembled group interrupted with more cheers. The Cure Salée was an ancient Tuareg festival, one which hadn't been celebrated in almost two decades as the Tuareg struggled to find a homeland in Archon. Characterized by games and feasting, it had become a memory from the past - but Najem was restoring that dream. It was more than anyone had expected.

Long torn by familial rivalries, the Tuareg had fallen prey to the Akataeb and other nations who had sought to control them, domesticate them, and use them for their own military campaigns. The breaking of the nation had set aside - at least temporarily - those familial rivalries, as the prospect of having their own nation again gave them a vested interest in cooperation.

The plan was set: a revival of the culture, and westward expansion.