The Brothers War | IC (Closed)

by **The Shrailleeni Empire** » Sun Mar 19, 2017 2:24 am

The Eagle's Cry

Shrailleeni News Unbiased
Serving the Children of the Mother Goddess and the Region

Statement of Purpose: Founded on the principles of liberty, morality, and matriatism, the staff of the Eagle's Cry are dedicated to the principles of free speech and accessibility of information, except where this information could endanger the well-being of the Shrailleeni people. This news source will report to the Shrailleeni people and the region the true goings-on within the Shrailleeni Empire through foreign electronic and domestic printed mediums.

March, 1293 (2017)

Mother Empress Voices Support for Emperor Constantine of Latium

Imperial City - In the Shrailleeni Empire's first official stance on the Latium civil conflict, Her Enlightened Majesty the Mother Empress Chella Resyanna fe Shrailleen has declared political support for Emperor Constantine XX of Latium against the contesting claim of Michael, now known as The Pretender.

Since the two competing claimants declared their almost simultaneous candidacy for the throne of the Cornellian splinter-state, the Shrailleeni Empire has maintained a completely neutral stance in the ensuing conflict, even as various Cornellian nations including Shrailleeni allies the Allied States of New Edom and the Empire of Ghant began to both politically and militarily back one side or the other in the increasingly hostile situation. The two Shrailleeni allies placed the Empire in a difficult position by openly backing opposing sides of the conflict, New Edom for Michael and Ghant for Constantine.

Additionally, Latium's position as an important agricultural trading partner for the Shrailleeni Empire has until recently fostered a policy of cautious neutrality in the Empire. Previously, Foreign Minister Zattem Rebruck had declared "Whichever side emerges victorious from this unfortunate and unnecessary conflict will enjoy full recognition from Shrailleen, the concerns of Latium are not the concerns of Shrailleen and Her Enlightened Majesty shall refrain from judgement until the Mother Goddess, in Her infinite wisdom, determines the most just and competent victor."

This status quo was terminally upset with the entry of the Cornellian Peacekeeping Organization into the conflict. The Shrailleeni delegation supported CPO mediation in the conflict in the interest of protecting the rights and liberties of the Latin people, and the Empire lent its full support to offers of mediation. However, recently, Michael of Latium soundly rejected CPO mediation stating that "I have decided that it is not in the best interest of the Latin State to participate in any discussions, talks or arbitration of any kind with the Cornellian Peace Organization."

The decision of Michael to reject wise and Enlightened mediation marked the clear line for the Shrailleeni government in its stance toward the Latium civil conflict. With Michael's response to the CPO, the Shrailleeni government still represented by Her Enlightened Majesty Chella Resyanna fe Shrailleen was forced to offer an official response. In an extraordinary statement to the regional press, Her Enlightened Majesty stated:

"Although the ways of Latium are not the ways of Shrailleen, and we must as always respect the customs and traditions of cultures not our own, the clear and obvious rejection of peaceful mediation to a conflict which directly endangers the lives of millions of innocents cannot be ignored. Not only is this a violation of the Enlightened Path of the Mother Goddess, but it is also a direct violation of the peace and security of the people of Latium. Michael has proven himself unworthy of Shrailleeni considerations or acknowledgment of his legitimacy for rule. The Enlightened Matriarchy therefore and hereby stands beside its New Edomite and Ghantish allies in withdrawing political and financial support for the government of Michael the Pretender. From this point onward, the Shrailleeni Empire offers its full support to the government of Constantine XX politically, financially, and if necessary militarily in order to ensure the peace and prosperity of Latium and its people."

The Eagle's Cry reports that the Shrailleeni ambassador to Latium, previously stationed in Castellum, has been ordered to close the Shrailleeni embassy and return to the Home Islands. The Shrailleeni government has offered a warning to Michael to allow this exit to take place peacefully, or to incur Shrailleeni military intervention against him. It is expected that Constantine XX shall be sent a Shrailleeni ambassador sometime within the following weeks, in order to cement Shrailleeni support for his government.

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Sun Mar 19, 2017 4:27 pm

“Wine Country”
The Vannoisian Coast
Levallon-Auricourt, Vannois
(Co-written with Lacus Magni and Leasath)

As the sun rose over the Tempesta Ocean, so too did the sea give way to the land of the Belisarian coast. Nathan noticed it in his sorely hungover state, finding that he had been cleaned up and his clothes had been changed. Captain Rosa Sharon slept next to him, and despite his severe headache and throbbing eyes, he realized that she was there after all the night before, and that she took care of. That’s a good woman no doubt...better than I deserve.

The Emperor did his best to compose himself, standing up straight from the bed in his cabin and stretching with a relaxed yawn. I’m too hungover for too much formal shit, he thought as he decided that he would venture out in the moth-greyish brown tunic he slept in. I doubt the Vannoisians would mind...it’s not like I they’d think any less of me than they already do...

Of course, he was referring to his liaison with Princess Dominqiue of Vannois, who despite her Vannoisian upbringing found herself in the companionship of the Emperor of Ghant following the Midsummer Ball in Ghish. Her decision to remain in Ghish as the Emperor’s Ohaide was a source of great controversy, embarrassment and shame for the Vannoisian Imperial Family, and as such she wasn’t welcome back to her homeland on account of being disowned and striken. Not that she cared, though Nathan and her great-grandmother Teresa labored on her behalf.

In fact, if it wasn’t for Teresa, Ghanto-Vannoisian relations would be far worse than they were at present, which was to say that they were good, Dominique aside. Teresa was the reason these plans were coming to fruition now, and for that he was grateful to still be able to count Vannois as a friend, though such a condition was tenuous at best. And soon, the true test shall begin...

ooooooo

As it often did, the sun shined brightly on the so-called ‘Fields of Salvation’ that covered the rolling hills to the south of Libéliard. Situated close to the Vannoisian coast, the fields were the site of vast medieval battles between the forces of Niort and the city of Belzieu. It was here that a great ancestor of Louis XIX and his siblings struck down the rebellious lordlings who refused to swear their fealty to the rightful Lord of Vannois; it was here that the nation moved ever closer to unity under Rome and, eventually, freedom.

Personally, of course, the Prince Jean-Marc of Vannois was quite the history buff; whether or not those around him really cared for the history behind the Fields didn’t especially concern the Prince, although he was of a mind to guess that the beaches just to their west were the preferred destination of all of these young men and women. Those young men and women, it had to be said, certainly didn’t seem to want to be where they were just now.

“Your Highness.” A voice interrupted the Prince’s thoughts, and he turned to its source to find the commanding officer of the local Libéliard garrison standing straight nearby.

"Commandant,” Jean-Marc nodded his acknowledgement, turning back to look over the mostly empty land. There was a force gathering at his back, preparing to assist the nearing Ghantish in their trip to get a taste of all the best Vannoisian wines, but ahead of him was emptiness. It was all too easy to imagine the clashes of battle occurring here, and the grand success of his own ancestor in throwing down those that would challenge his rule... “Do you have an update for me, then?” The Prince shook himself, turning his head to direct the question at the officer behind him.

“Yes, sir. The Ghantish will be arriving soon. As was agreed upon, their arrival at the southern airport in Libéliard will be met with further transportation to take them to this location as quickly as possible.” The plan, enacted with the consent and input of his nephew and grandmother respectively, would see the Ghantish contingent flying through the sleepy south of Libéliard, avoiding the worst of the ever present rush to the coast to enjoy the nice weather. Once out of the city, it would take little time for the force to reach the location at which Jean-Marc had been sent to gather the local soldiers and, more importantly, the supplies of military bases and supply warehouses in Libéliard and Belzieu in order to outfit the foreigners with as much equipment as needed.

Of course, Jean-Marc was almost loathe to see the fields before him filled with soldiery, though he knew that what lay behind him - similarly a part of the Fields of Salvation and the battlefield on which the Niort-Parthenays forged a part of their crown - was already covered in volunteer forces and soldiers who would travel with himself and the Ghantish until they could reach the second half of his nephew’s main force. Sighing, the Prince nodded to himself.

“Very well, then. Alert me when they have landed, and again when they have arrived here. We will use the land here to outfit and prepare them.”

“Very good, my Lord.” He knew the commander was bowing behind him, and backing off quickly to get back to work, not turning away from the royal until he was a decent distance away.

It wasn’t long thereafter that the first plane came into view, making its descent from the horizon. The Dowager Empress Teresa of Vannois watched it carefully, attended by her most recent charge, Constantia, Countess Vinovium, daughter of Marchioness of Espo and sister to the murdered bastard princes George and Alexander. Also with her was her great-granddaughter Catherine, George’s widow.

Originally, Constantia was being held with her mother and other guests of George's court at a residence in the east of Vannois, but Teresa requested her presence personally. The girl looks like she could be Jason’s bastard as well, she thought as she glanced at the girl. And if she is, then Audric might try to kill her too. Constantia stood a better chance as long as was under the Empress’s personal protection, and similarly, Catherine was in a sorry state along with Constantia, and Teresa felt as though their misery would be mitigated by each other’s company.

Teresa patted down her long white dress as she watched the first of many Ghantish planes make it’s final descent down unto the tarmac. She signaled for the Vannoisian soldiers to assume their positions as she herself walked carefully out to greet her kin and countrymen. If Teresa was a betting woman, she’d have bet the farm that her great-great-nephew the Emperor of Ghant was drunk, knowing full well that he didn’t do well on plane flights.

When the plane came to a stop, the stair ramp was pushed out, and soon thereafter the first of the Ghantish guards emerged, clad in black and armed with rifles and swords, that she could discern. Next came the heralds, with their staves and trumpets to announce their liege. Then came the Emperor himself, staggering down the steps with disheveled hair and large black sunglasses covering his eyes and wearing a large brown-grey tunic. Following him were some Kings and Princes that Teresa knew of, followed by a few of their lords, knights and retainers.

The Imperial herald announced the Ghantish once they had all made their way down the steps, and lined up horizontally to the side of the plane. “By the Grace of the Gods both Old and New, may I present his Imperial Majesty Nathan, the Fourth of His Name, Emperor of All Ghant, High King of the Ghantar, King of Baxughant, King of Gholghant, King of Dienghant, Overlord of Zahaghant, Lord of Gholgoth, Lord of Ghish, Lord of Gaztelua, Lord of Degusa and Protector of the Realm. Joined by His Imperial Highness Paul, Prince of Ghant, His Majesty Taboro, King of Arrautsa and Lord of Arragara, His Majesty Gadiel, King of Gaemar and Lord of Gaemarlen, His Majesty Jori, King of Jehenna, His Highness Martin, Crown Prince of Dakmoor, Dame-Captain Rosa Sharon, and their assembled lords, knights and retainers.”

Teresa came prepared for the traditional greeting, as she had a herald announce her as well. “May I present By the Grace of God, Her Imperial Majesty Teresa, Dowager Empress of Vannois and Princess Imperial of Ghant, joined by Her Imperial Highness Catherine, Princess of Vannois and Lady Constantia, Countess Vinovium.”

No stranger to expectation, Teresa nodded towards a servant, who brought her a plate of bread with a small bowl of salt in the middle. “My honored guests,” Teresa began as she took the plate and extended it outward towards the Emperor of Ghant, “be welcome with this fair country, blessed it be in the eyes of God. I extend to you my hospitality and protection with God as my witness.”

The Emperor of Ghant nodded as he took a step forward and took a pinch of salt and a piece of bread, and ate them both. “Thank you, Aunt Teresa,” he mumbled. Then the rest came and did the same, one after the other, giving their thanks and expressing their gratitude for such generous hospitality. Further along, the second plane made its descent, presumably the one that accommodated additional Imperial personnel.

Jean-Marc stood a ways back from Teresa and the arriving contingent, content to watch his grandmother greet their relatives. Though he had questioned his Imperial nephew on letting Catherine and Constantia travel with Teresa, and further to greet Nathan and the visitors upon arrival, the only response he had received was curt and to the point: “What great-grandmother wants, she shall have. What Catherine wants, she shall have ten times over. Do as you are instructed, uncle.” As such, the Prince of Vannois held himself away from proceedings for now, ensuring that further supplies and equipment were being arranged as needed nearby.

Once the second plane came to a rest and they’d been given the all clear, Princess Maria of Latium went to exit the plane. She came to a brief stop at the top of the ramp, holding a hand up to block the sun as she squinted. When the glare was gone, Maria, in a white and gold sun dress, proceed gracefully down the stairs to join the other members of the large and diverse party. She was followed by Princess Anastasia of Ghant, wearing a polka-dot spring dress, white parasol and same colored sunglasses, with guards in tow. As they too were coming from Ghant, a herald announced them. “May I present Maria, Princess of Latium, and Anastasia, Princess of Ghant.” Similarly, Teresa offered them bread and salt, of which Anastasia partook per Ghantish custom.

“Well, we certainly have an exquisite collection of highborn persons for a wine tasting campaign into the east,” Teresa said with a smile. “We have Emperors, Empresses, Kings and Princes and Princesses, and great lords and ladies alike. Oh, this is terribly exciting, isn’t it Jean-Marc?” she asked her grandson. “I am so very eager to begin! Aren’t you?”

“Most certainly, grandmother,” the Niort-Parthenay smiled, taking a few steps forward and nodding his head to the foreigners present. “I am sure it will be a wonderful occasion with the conversations guaranteed by such a diverse group.” He glanced at his niece, standing with the sister of the dead Latin princes, and his smile took on a more fixed appearance. The ever bright and slightly excitable Catherine had suffered a great injustice, and that was one of the reasons that Jean-Marc had agreed to Audric’s request for leadership; Rémy would not be allowed near Nathan of Ghant, and his other brothers were either too invested in themselves or untrusted as yet by their nephew.

Whether I trust Audric, of course, remains to be seen, the Prince thought to himself, keeping his eyes away from Catherine for the time being.

“We shouldn’t idle for too long,” Teresa observed to those present. “There are many more planes coming, and many miles to go.” She nodded in the direction of the field, where there many vehicles present, consisting of sedans, jeeps and trucks. “Shall we?”

“Yes, of course.” The Emperor and his companions followed the venerable Vannoisian Dowager Empress away from the planes while servants unloaded supplies, luggage and personal effects. “I take it our plans are still in motion?”

“Of course,” Teresa said with confidence. “Everyone is so excited to get things moving. And we won’t have to worry about being bothered by pests...except from eager countryfolk and the occasional refugee, of course.” With a casual glance, Teresa addressed Maria and Anastasia. “Your Highnesses, if you would be so kind as to attend me, I’m afraid my legs are not so spry as they once were.”

Anastasia nodded and waltzed over towards her elder kinswoman. “Yes, Great-Aunt?”

“If it’s not too much to ask, it would be my hope that you and Maria could keep Catherine and Constantia company. They are troubled young women that could benefit from friends of appropriate rank and vigor to lift their spirits.”

The Ghantish Princess did think about that for a moment, before replying, “yes, I think I can do that. What about you, Maria? You know Lady Constantia don’t you?”

“Of course,” Maria offered a smile as she followed the Empress’ orders and joined Anastasia. “I think we may have met at the last Hippodromus festival. I know I met her mother at least. She was very sweet as I recall”

Nathan’s curiosity got the better of him. “Aunt Teresa...what’s going on with Catherine and this...Constantia? Why are they here...what’s the deal with that?”

Teresa pinched her lips tight and closed her eyes with a sigh, then shook her head. “I will not speak it from mine lips. If anyone wants to know, they can talk to them about it. I would have my hands clean of it.”

Behind Nathan, his cousin Prince Paul scowled. “If some grave injustice had been done to fair Princess Catherine, then I shall take it upon myself to rectify it posthaste.”

The Emperor had to remind his cousin that “And perhaps we shall, should circumstances permit. For now, let’s get this caravan loaded up and set out into the country. I’m eager for some fine Vannoisian vintage.”

Almost as the Ghantish Emperor spoke, the Vannoisian soldiers around them hopped into the many vehicles around them, ready to get moving. Once the royals and nobles were safely ensconced in their own air conditioned vehicles or, for some, open air jeeps, the convoy took off at some speed. They moved directly due east, as the plan called for, and in that travel they passed through arguably the most beautiful land Vannois had to offer.

The road they used was not part of the national highway system, nor any other major thoroughfare; in fact, until recently some parts of it had fallen into some disrepair due to lack of travel. After reconstruction and repairs had taken place, however, it offered a comfortable and enjoyable ride through the countryside. Flanked by immense vineyards and rolling green hills, the road itself traveled almost parallel to a small stream, bridging over it at a handful of points. The rare large tree towered over the road, vestiges of what was perhaps once a forest before it became the heartland of Vannoisian wine industry.

The convoy, as hoped, encountered little on their way to slow them; in fact, one might have thought that there was nobody on the road at all, and of course many entrances to this road were in fact blocked or well hidden for the purposes of this mission. The only witnesses to the passing of the Vannoisian-Ghantish force were the random few workers within the vineyards, checking the vines and performing other maintenance as needed. With the pleasant weather, smooth ride, and pleasant scenery, some -- like Jean-Marc himself -- might have even forgotten the purpose of their wine tasting party altogether.

Indeed, Teresa was looking over a map in her tarped jeep and some schematics with the Emperor and his closest companions, chief among them Martin of Dakmoor, Gadiel of Gaemar, Jori of Jehenna and Taboro of Arrautsa, who were joined by Lords John Tograma and Michael Kedarra from the Edomite Expeditionary Force, as well as Prince Jean-Marc. “This force of men that we are bringing into the heart of Vannois are not unlike the Edomite or Delvian Expeditionary Forces,” Taboro explained in his gruff Arrautsan accent. “As such they are not a proper military unit, though they’ve received some training in the arts of modern combat, the Nathians especially. They were on the ready once Hector Atmos informed Lord Lianu of the developments in Latium. They truly hunger for vengeance.”

“Aye, and like in New Edom,” Lord Kedarra clarified, “they are organized on the battalion level, under such and such a lord as before.”

Lord Tograma nodded in his usually curt manner, and seconded this. “Thankfully we have a blueprint provided from the Edomite campaign. It worked there...no reason why it wouldn’t work here especially considering we have the benefit of Vannoisian oversight and assistance.”

King Gadiel point out that “but unlike the Edomite Expeditionary Force, these men at least have some training in modern standards and doctrine. The southerners pride themselves on modernity, which makes them more willing to handle modern weaponry than the northern rabble that went to New Edom.” King Jori scowled briefly at this, before shrugging and looking out at the Vannoisian countryside.

“Though of course, training not as robust as any formal military unit,” the Emperor observed with a casual scratch of his scalp. “So we have uniforms, boots, helmets, combat webbing, radios, pistols and stuff like that in the crates coming in the cargo holds right?”

“That’s correct,” Lord Kedarra answered, then looking to Teresa and adding “and thanks to our Vannoisian friends, that’s the extent of what we needed, since they’re providing additional supplies, rations, and vehicles.” With a hefty tap of his boot upon the floor of the jeep, he got his last point across.

Teresa twirled her grey hair around her index finger and mused that “...basically you have a mob of household guards and militia masquerading as a light infantry division.”

“Not quite.” Stroking the light stubble on his chin, Nathan responded with, “technically, it's a mob of household guards and militia masquerading as a light infantry division masquerading as a wine tasting party.” Martin, though he had been quiet up to that point, spared a laugh, as did the others.

“Whatever it is, it will have to do,” laughed Teresa as she focused back on her schematics. God help us…

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Mon Mar 20, 2017 7:59 pm

“Wine Country Part II”
The Vannoisian Wine Country
Romorantin-Lanthenay, Vannois
(Co-written with Lacus Magni and Leasath)

The pleasant weather that the Vannoisians and Ghantish had been experiencing along the coast continued as the convoy traveled further into the countryside. The kind conditions were both assisting and halting the convoy’s travel; with the vineyards and scenery all around the group, stopping to take in the land -- and a touch of wine, of course -- was a frequent occurrence.

The Vannoisian soldiers certainly didn’t mind the stopping; not especially used to combat, this sort of introduction to military maneuvers in a genuine war setting was quite an enjoyable experience. The just as green Prince Jean-Marc, older than his men yet just as inexperienced in matters of war, had decided that joining in the more agreeable pursuits of his fellow royalty and noblemen was preferable to attempting to continue to lead the convoy himself. Passing off de-facto command to a solid underling, he too was taking part in the wine and cheese that Vannois was so well known for.

Because of this penchant for wine, the convoy had stopped at a nearby vineyard house, greeting the owners of the location with smiles and assurances of payment from the Niort-Parthenay trusts before setting out onto the grassy hill that lay beyond the home; refreshments and the like were, of course, provided by the excitable owners who, to be fair, had not expected to see the Dowager herself in person -- let alone the rest of her party -- ever in their lives.

Indeed, Teresa went amongst them, and greeted them personally with all the humility that she had demonstrated as Empress. “Thank your for your generosity, my friends. Let it not be said that the good people of Vannois are not hospitable.” Unfortunately, such hospitality wasn’t above being taken advantage of, especially by the Ghantish...the northerners especially.

The Emperor of Ghant dressed in a rich white cloth toga and wore a green wreath crown atop his head with clusters of purple grapes dangling from it, while he reclined on a low sitting, open carriage full of fluffy pillows. Pretty young Ghantish women fanned him and provided shade with large fans in the style of leafs, while he drank copious amounts of wine from a gaudy gold goblet and ate purple and green grapes from a platter in front of him. It is as though he fancies himself Dionysus, Teresa thought.

During these particular spells of stopping to enjoy the fruits of the country, many of the men trained and ran drills, though those were mostly southerners. The northerners on the other hand took to foraging the countryside for food, some more discreet and deliberate than others, while their commanding officers tried to corral them like shepherds did sheep.

Eyeing the gaudiness of the Ghantish Emperor and the clean, simple dress of her uncle Jean-Marc in turn -- who wore what was admittedly likely an expensive though plain collared white shirt and grey pants -- Princess Catherine scowled, turning her face from the display and instead watching the drills that the soldiers were partaking in. She observed the Vannoisian soldiers, many of them near to her age, watching the Ghantish themselves; wondering at whether any of them had been present at Espo, her mood took a further turn for the worse, and she clutched an intricate glass filled with red wine tighter before taking a long sip.

Sticking close to Princess Catherine and the young Latin noblewoman Lady Constantia, Princess Maria of Latium took a light sip of her wine as she tried to enjoy the fine weather. She found the surroundings enjoyable enough, though was growing increasingly frustrated at the repeated stops and even moreso at Nathan’s own actions - especially now. Since they landed in Vannois it was clear to her what this ‘wine tasting’ trip was, though now she had been beginning to wonder if maybe she should have remained in Atmos with her siblings and remainder of her guard.

“He looks like a fool,” Lady Constantia muttered about Emperor Nathan, just loud enough for the few around her to hear.

“It’s amazing what being drunk off your ass will do to you eh?” Anastasia asked her female companions, herself dressed in an elegant beige sundress and drinking generous amounts of wine from a tall and wide wineglass. “At least he’s having fun...he really did need a vacation. Though I think we all did.”

“I suppose,” Catherine sighed, eyeing her glass as she spoke. “I am sure that this… vacation… will lead to many visiting these vineyards in the future, should he remember his experience at the end of it all.”

“What’s wrong with you two anyway?” Anastasia asked casually. “Ever since we met at the coast it’s been all doom and gloom...did some bad shit go down in Latium or whatever? Or is it boy drama? Girls, I know plenty about that, lemme tell ya. One minute you think you got a chance, the next some bitch shows up and pulls the carpet out from under your feet.” she eyed her glass carefully and threw it back, emptying it before getting more. “You know about that, don’t you Maria?”

Catherine’s expression of surprise betrayed her for a moment, before it morphed into one of distinct anger. The forwardness of this woman was initially surprising, though as a Princess of Vannois Catherine was used to foreigners antics; this, however, was touching an exceedingly bruised nerve. Taking a breath to calm herself before speaking, Catherine turned her face to Anastasia. “If you do not know, I am not to say,” she said, her voice forcibly even as her eyes danced with anger and some level of sadness.

“Yeah yeah, it’s top secret,” Anastasia shrugged her shoulders. “Aliens stuck a probe up your ass, I get it. What about you, Constantia?”

Constantia frowned, pushing her cup of wine aside. “I don’t want to talk about it,” the young noble looked like she was fighting back tears.

Maria nodded at Anastasia’s comments then turned to Constantia. “Well, what do you want to talk about?” Maria offered a smile to the tearful girl. “We can talk about anything. I’ve heard that Anastasia often has entertaining stories.”

“I got a few,” Anastasia said facetiously. “Here’s one...a couple of years ago I went to a house party with some girls. Party was bumpin, there was a DJ in the backyard by the pool, beer pong, jello shots, people banging in the bathroom, you name it. Well about an hour into it I noticed a toddler running around in the house and I’m like, ‘wtf.’ So I asked around and the guy throwing the party was supposed to be babysitting his nephew. About an hour after that the guy’s sister comes home early, busting through the door with some grocery bags or whatever...apparently she was doing a spa treatment and got back early, something like that.

“Next thing you know the bitch starts screaming and picks up a baseball bat near the door. She started swinging for the fences at people’s heads and missing, putting holes in the drywall and shattering pictures and shit. I was thinking ‘fuck this’ and I had to juke this bitch to make it out of the house. Everyone in the house scattered, dodging swings and flying debris. Once most of the people were outside she blocked the street and started swinging at people’s cars as they left. I remember her taking out a side mirror on a dude’s truck, and she broke a few car windows, some tail and headlights and put some dents in some car doors. I even heard later that she destroyed the DJ’s shit and threw it in the pool. Some crazy shit right?”

Catherine turned her eyes skyward for a moment, and muttered to herself, “Dieu au-dessus…” Taking a moment to blink slowly, the Vannoisian Princess looked back to Anastasia, eyes flickering between her and the two Latins. “It’s… It’s something else, that is certain,” she said, tone guarded. “Imperial court in Vannois -- that is, really, anything out of my late grandfather’s purview -- could often have some more rowdy elements to it but that is on an entirely different level.” She looked at her hands thoughtfully, before taking another long draw from her glass of wine and raising the glass to signal for another pour.

Anastasia looked on at her Vannoisian counterpart with keen interest in hearing what she had to say. “Oh, and what’s your craziest story, hmm?”

Looking around, Catherine noted the positions of her uncle and great-grandmother away from their small group before turning back to the girls around her. “Well, when father was alive -- that is, my father, Alexandre -- he often would host gatherings at our residence in Saint-Lô, inviting what seemed like half the realm when we were children,” she began, smiling slightly as she recalled the castle set upon an island just off the Vannoisian coast. “Of course, my father being who he was, he was able to get just about anything as entertainment for his parties; he hired famous singers, dancing troupes, and once -- near the end, I think -- he hired an entire casino out of eastern Vannois to provide people and games for a themed event. That wasn’t the most interesting, though, I suppose.

“The most scandalous event would probably be the time that the Duchess of Saint-Sernin, who’s daughter is married to my uncle Jean-Marc, and the old Marquis de Cinquième-Rivière were caught out in the front gardens doing -- well, doing one another, I suppose. Considering the Duchess was nearing 70 at the time it was really rather impressive but I don’t know that she’s recovered from the shame yet, though the marquis touting his conquest like an old gladiator is likely… unhelpful…” Catherine blushed, thankful for a slight distraction as her glass of wine was finally refilled. “Yes, that -- that is most certainly the most scandalous thing I have seen at court.”

“Maybe they should have gone to a covered garden instead,” Maria added with a laugh after Catherine’s story. She looked to Constantia, hoping one of the stories would have brought her a smile, but the girl still frowned and only looked disinterested.

Anastasia tapped her chin with the rim of her wineglass, and said “You know Maria, Nathan commissioned a sculptor to make a likeness of your head, like in that music video with the blind chick. It turned out great, and he keeps it in his closet with some candles and lube.”

Maria had been taking a sip of wine when she heard that, causing her to nearly spit some out in surprise. “Jesus, he what?” the Latin princess looked as furious as she was confused. Though of all the things recently said, Anastasia’s recent comments made Constantia laugh finally. Catherine, too, cracked, giggling and blushing madly as she looked at Maria.

The Ghantish princess started laughing too, and said through her laughter “oh I was just kidding, but that would be funny wouldn’t it?” After a minute, she said more softly, “you’d like that wouldn’t ya?”

With the other girls all laughing, eventually Maria joined in. “With how he’s been acting lately I wouldn’t put it past him,” Maria said with a smile, before adding some sarcasm and continuing. “Oh absolutely, what girl wouldn’t love a creepy shrine of herself kept in man’s closet to play with?”

It was roughly at that time that Teresa made her approach, gawking at her grandson Jean-Marc at the same time. “We need this many tonnes of bread and cheese,” she insisted to him, pointing at a parchment in her hand. “Lords Kedarra and Tograma insist that this is necessary in order to sustain a fighting force with a limited supply chain. Just take it out of the Imperial treasure. God knows we have the money to spare.”

“I would never say otherwise, grandmother -- but I wouldn’t like to be the one to explain to Audric all the costs incurred,” the Prince replied, gesturing to the parchment himself. “I’m sure they’ll want only the best of our cheeses, and shipping it down from Saint-Nazaire and Gressy will be costly as well… Though, I can’t really disparage their taste. It is all rather excellent.”

“I’ll be the one to tell him myself then,” Teresa insisted. “I’ll see to the matter personally, considering how increasingly apparent it is that I’m the only one with the spine to tell Audric something he doesn’t want to hear.”

“The only one with the influence to challenge him and his in court, perhaps. I, like many others, look to you for leadership there. It would be unfortunate to undermine your leadership and,” the Prince shrugged, “it’s really just a fact that he would only listen to you outside of his cadre, anyway. Myself and my brothers have little sway with him, for good reason in some respects.”

Teresa batted at the air with an old hand. “Nonsense...I won’t live forever, despite what some of you might think. Eventually I’ll be dead, and then what? Will the lot of you be running around frantically like a pack of headless chickens? Remy is ill-suited to the task surely, but then there’s you. I don’t think you’ve ever given yourself enough credit, Jean-Marc, always dwelling in the small shadows that your elder brothers cast.”

The Prince chuckled, shaking his head. “The shadows of Rémy and poor Alexandre are -- were -- something of a comfort, for a time. To be the boring one meant to stay out of the spotlight, though…” Jean-Marc paused. “There were rumblings amongst some of the more, shall we say, liberalizing of the court in anticipation of Audric’s reign. It seems that most of them would prefer one of my nieces, Catherine preferably, to take up the mantle themselves. They always seemed close, Cath and Audric, though now I cannot be sure.” At this, the Vannoisian looked to the smiling Catherine, a rare sight since her sudden arrival from the campaign in Latium alongside her great-grandmother. He remained unsure as to what exactly had transpired between Catherine and her elder brother, but he was certain that he noticed her minute flinches and other reactions when the boy’s name was mentioned in conversation. A worrying sign regarding their relationship, indeed.

“And how are my dearies?” Teresa asked the four young women. “Are you enjoying wine country?”

“Mhmm,” Maria smiled to Teresa. “The wine is lovely, as are the weather and company.”

“Quite so,” Anastasia answered exuberantly. “Quite slow...though it’s hard to get some keef around here, apparently…”

“Quite right, it’s illegal unless you’ve the right documentation,” Jean-Marc said, cocking his head in mock contemplation. “Though, now I think about it, I can recall a few who stumbled their way into less than legal supplies of such material. Perhaps I am even related to some…”

A sudden roar came from the vineyard where the Emperor was reclining with his wine and grapes. “Oh...oh...Aunt Teresa! Jean-Marc! Maria!” he cried out as he stumbled down from his pillows and came running barefoot through the vineyard. “This is big...this is very big!”

“...I wonder what he’s on about,” remarked Anastasia as she scratched her nose and looked on. “I wonder if he found a grape with the face of Jesus on it or something.”

“Oh God,” Maria said in Greek, pulling her sunglasses down to cover her eyes when she heard Nathan’s drunken shouting. “Either that or a tree talked to him again.”

“Perhaps it was a mixture of both your theories; a grape spoke to him with the voice of God,” Catherine murmured, placing her hand on her chin and leaning onto the arm of her chair. “He would likely not be the first to think this place some caricature of heaven while well intoxicated, I am sure.”

“Talking trees?” Constantia whispered to Catherine in complete confusion.

“Oh, it’s a part of one of their religions up in Ghant. I’m not especially certain what it’s really all about.” Catherine whispered as well, shrugging slightly.

Nathan came running towards Teresa, Jean-Marc and the girls were gathered, with guards running after him trying to keep up. The Emperor held up his wine glass with one hand, and in his other clutched a letter against his toga in order to keep it from catching on anything. When he finally caught up to them, he was panting and covered in sweat, beads of it streaming down his fair, flat chest. It was Maria he addressed first, panting. “Maria...read this…”

Princess Maria sighed when Nathan arrived, though took the letter all the same and gave it a quick read. When she was finished reading she put it down and rose from her seat. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty,” she felt unsettled by not only the message, but everything that’s happened and even what the message meant for both her brothers.

Catherine let out a harsh breath, feeling some modicum of relief for the first time in a while when she thought of the Latin conflict. Perhaps, soon, it would all be over; things could return to some semblance of normal, and she could… Well, she could find a residence far away from that of her brother before she was inevitably married off once again to the highest bidder. Perhaps.. Perhaps not, she thought, the relief at good news dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.

Teresa read the message as well, and nodded solemnly as she finished it. “We need to get to Castellum as quickly as possible,” she pointed out to her companions, though her gaze was upon Jean-Marc.

The Emperor’s cadre of guards caught up to him, with Prince Paul in tow, wearing a light Imperial uniform. He took a deep breath and exhaled “We must make with great haste...but shall we bring the Princesses?” he asked Nathan.

“...That’s not for me to decide,” the Emperor answered. “That’s up to Teresa, though naturally Maria and Anastasia ought to come with.”

“And I cannot make such a decision for them,” replied the Dowager Empress. “That is for them.”

Catherine looked rather stricken at the idea of being left away from her great-grandmother, and looked at Constantia before answering hurriedly, “Of course I would wish to attend, great-grandmother, Your Majesty. It will be a once in a lifetime chance to, ah, witness the end of such a destructive conflict.” She didn’t notice her uncle’s uncomfortable expression, though it did not remain for long as he was off already, corralling the Vannoisian troops and sending them to fetch transports.

“If Catherine’s going, then I’ll go as well,” Constantia replied, thinking of what a joy it would be to finally see one of the men who ordered her brothers’ death be brutally killed. The thought of seeing the other usurpers suffer was only trumped by seeing that fate happen to the Emperor of Vannois in her mind.

Nathan asked for a map that was subsequently handed to him. It was a map of Latium featuring the network of highways that transected the country. He pointed at one of the green lines and asked, “this one here, that passes through Leucarum and goes down to Castellum. How far away are we from that?” he asked, showing the map to the others.

“If we are where I think we are,” Catherine spoke up, poring over the map for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that should be directly east of here, the border is only a few hours away -- though if we can pick up our pace, we could probably halve that time, really.”

“Good, because we’re speeding.” the Emperor of Ghant wheeled on the balls of his feet and bellowed, “time to go, great haste people, great haste. Party time is over, move your asses! Emperor’s orders Damnit!” all around horns began to blow and the Ghantar stopped their exercises, their drills and their foraging (some of them anyway) and began hustling towards their encampments.

Paul looked at his Imperial cousin and asked, “what about the foragers?”

“...If they’re not ready to go when we are, then they’ll get left behind and they’ll be at the mercy of the Vannoisians. We don’t have time to go chase them all down.” Another look at Paul and Nathan added, “oh, and see to it that the Princesses are properly loaded into the appropriate vehicle.”

“Yes of course, Your Majesty.” Paul waved his hand at the group of young women, all the while saying, “with me, your Highnesses...time is of the essence.” the Emperor for his part went running towards his covered jeep and climbed into the backseat, only resuming his drinking once he was properly strapped in.

Catherine was quick to move alongside the man she had fancied not so long ago; though, the wedding she had attended alongside her family before all of the events of the Brothers War felt a true lifetime ago in reality. “Of course, Prince Paul,” she said, rather excited that they would finally be going into Latium.

Paul helped the Princesses get strapped into their seats, before he himself climbed into it as well. “I hope you don’t mind your Highnesses,” he said confidently though not without a hint of shyness. “I shall do what I can to protect you...Latium is dangerous of late, after all.”

“You have our thanks, Paul. I am sure you will be more than sufficient to protect us from whatever awaits this convoy in Latium,” Catherine said, nodding to the Ghantish royal as she settled into her seat.

Once everyone was seated and strapped into the seats of their vehicles, the caravan began to take off in the direction of the Leucarum highway, while the rest of the equipment, weapons and goods was likewise loaded up with expediency given the nature of the mission now at hand. Horns continued to sound into the air to signify that they were departing with swiftness, and those good men of Ghant and Vannois answered the call. So it was that they began to hasten themselves towards Castellum, where the end of the Brother’s War seemed within sight.

by **New Edom** » Mon Mar 20, 2017 9:58 pm

The Vannoisian Wine Country
Romorantin-Lanthenay, Vannois

Rosa Sharon looked if anything better in a stola than in uniform. It perfectly suited her light olive complexion, her voluptuous hourglass figure and made her feel lovely as she languished with Nathan tasting wine. She got pleasantly buzzed but knew her limits well and strayed clear of them. Among so many persons of high rank she was cautious about talking much.

Princess Anastasia filled her with envy. Her casual air of zest for life mixed with a subtle yet constant awareness of rank was a feature of the Ghantish ladies, who expected to be able to mouth off about anything at will. The ladies of Vannois' court were more traditional yet very northern and stuffy to her and she felt it wise to keep a low profile around them.

When she had arrived she had as usual reported as though she were talking to a friend, her mother or sister on her phone. All this was code and was intercepted by the Ministry. When she did report on it the concerned ambassadodrs and their respective cultural attaches--Prince Amenmar, Count Theodore Urban and Admiral Randronoth, were each in their way amused. The last ambassador was a bit too busy to think about it much though. News of the arrival of a Ghantish force, however chaotic, was good but he had to focus on the work of stripping his embassy of any intelligence that might help MIchael.

Meanwhile, Rosa was glad to see Nathan back in good spirits.

However she was dismayed to find that the party had had no time to change or have much notice, they were suddenly on the move again, she was bundled into a vehicle and if she was to change would change there. Which, if permitted, she would do, having typical Edomite lack of self consciousness. However her intention was to change into battle dress--trousers bloused over combat boots, a jacket over an undershirt and a field kevlar helmet. She would also if possible get her binoculars, assemble her carbine and be as ready as she could be for what lay ahead. Using her satellite phone she attempted to get encrypted information about the status of the situation, but it appeared very fluid. So all she did tell Nathan and his staff was: "Just to confirm with you, my government has turned against Michael for his refusal to make use of CPO mediation when he promised to before. Chacano and Edomite forces are in the lead in their approach to Castellum. Prince Leo's forces are not far behind..."

She was all but interrupted by a cacophony of horns being sounded, vehicle noises and by what appeared to be more of a vacation exodus than a series of convoys. The idea of organizing this mob was hopeless; she anticipated traffic jams, snarls and even accidents on their way there. She wondered if the Vannoisians had even anticipated their refueling..

by **Lacus Magni** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 10:08 am

Leo
West of Pola

What a damned fool, Leo thought when Legate Fontieus told him the news of Michael outright rejecting CPO mediation and then again when he was informed of the Edomites shifting loyalties just as quickly. Based on the information he received at their last stop just after Pola, the Edomites even had a force in or near the city already. That wasn’t so surprising to him, as based on his last conversation with Constantine it was clear the Edomites were acting on Michael’s behalf. What was surprising was that they were willing to actively join the fight against Michael after turning sides.

The thought bothered Leo, following him as they picked up back on the road to Castellum, followed and surrounded by his army. Constantine won’t be the first into the city now, the thought continued to pester him. They need to see their Emperor first, not a bunch of foreigners running through the streets. A Latin entrance will be far more welcome.

“Your Highness,” Legate Fontieus tapped Leo on the shoulder as the land rover pushed along the Raedavea west towards Castellum. In the vehicle with Leo was Fontieus and their driver, who Leo had recently told to pick up the pace when he knew for sure there would be nothing getting in their way on their path to Castellum. They were hoping to keep pace with their allies from Chaco. Keeping pace with Leo’s ride were a series of humvees and troop transport trucks, with APCs and others moving behind them along the road. All in all, Leo was leading his three regiments of heavy infantry, and regiment of light infantry with his armored support keeping pace as best they could, though lagging behind some.

Fontieus handed Leo a map, which the Prince unfolded on his lap. They weren’t long off from the capital, but no matter how much they rushed he wouldn’t be the first into the city or even at the palace. At best, his hopes were that the joint Latin-Chacano air assault team could reach the important bridges straddling the Angustiae River, especially those nearest to the palace. At the most recent reports, defenses in the capital were minimal and appeared unprepared for the onslaught that would soon be brought on them.

“The rumors of protests appear to be growing, your Highness,” Fontieus mentioned to Leo. “Thats a good as news as any. They’ll be distracted while we move into the city.”

“Let’s hope they don’t do anything foolish,” Leo nodded, pondering on the fate of the protesters, the battle and even his cousin Michael. “Take a message, Legate.”

Mons Ottavia, Castellum

In the borough of Mons Ottavia in the city of Castellum, the remaining forces of Emperor Michael considered their situation at the news of His Majesty’s foolish decision to reject CPO mediation. As things stood, they had hardly eleven thousand soldiers, mostly Scholarians, some heavy infantry and few armored units, available to them. The forces retreating from Kallipolis were not expected to relieve them before they were confronted with any potential assault from any side, and even if they did, those few northern forces would soon be caught in the rear by more forces of the Emperor in Adrianople.

“The boy’s a fool,” one of the highest ranking members of Michael’s military staff in the capital, though only a Legate, said aloud to the others around him. “He fucked us and the Vindobona bitch was more concerned with keeping the appearance of a functioning city. We can’t repel them for long, possibly not even at all.”

“Runner,” another legate shouted for a nearby private. A soldier entered the room and took the message. “See Legate Calidius, let him know that the Emperor, in all his wisdom, wishes that six groups fall back to the Palatine.”

“Aye, sir,” the private stated before preparing to leave the room.

“Wait,” the oldest of the Legates shouted at the private.

Before he could speak his words to the private, another Legate interrupted and began discussing the defenses of the city. “That fucking Vindobona, I swear. She left all the bridges for us to deal with now, did a piss poor job of bottling up the main streets. And the boy...he left us out the dry. At least those fucking leaflets from other Emperor’s supporters managed to get most of the civilians out of the immediate path...mostly.”

The oldest of the Legates spoke up again to the nervous private taking the message. “Just tell Legate Calidius to come here,” he shook his head and threw his hands in the air. He looked at the roughly drawn map of the capital city with marking of their various defenses in the city. There were a handful of bunkers hastily thrown up along major intersections, manned with a handful of men and possibly a machine gun if they were lucky. In other portions of the map, towards the north, there were marking of fences and barbed wire they had used to close off parts of roads, though those would serve as nothing more than extremely minor delays and likely only hinder civilians attempting to flee. The greatest possible outcome was that they would be able to funnel enemies into certain choke points towards machine gun nests, tanks or ambushes, but even then the city was far too large to defend from all sides. Though he was uncertain if his men would even put up a fight just to lose in the end. He and his fellow commanders did not want to die for a lost cause.

“His defenses are in just as sorry a state as the rest of ours,” the older Legate offered up when the runner had finally left.

“I don’t know boys,” the second Legate spoke up again. “Might be we just surrender ourselves and let the other Emperor have the boy and whatever followers he has left. The fuck does he care about us anyway. My wife said we haven’t even been getting paid. The people don't want him, that's clear too. What the point left in fighting when you ain’t getting paid and have no chance of surviving? I certainly don’t see one, do you?”

“I seen pictures of the Emperor in Adrianople visiting some of his camps, making regular public appearances,” another Legate added. “Our’s ain’t done that since well before Vindobona arrived.”

“We’ll acquiesce to the boy’s request for a little more support at the Palatine with those protesters. But past that I don’t want to lift another finger for him.”

“Sir,” another private entered with a salute and delivered a message to the lead legate.

“We have some more protesters just to the northwest of the river right now, it seems. Some appear to be armed. No shots fired at our men as of yet,” the lead legate stated.

“You,” the second legate pointed at the newly arrived private. “Send word to the Palatine that the defenses in…” he looked at the map of Castellum “...Rubra, just west of the river, were overrun by a mob of protesters.”

The oldest of the legates waited until the private left the room. “You lied.”

“ Let the Emperor sweat it out. He’s already done as is. But our boys, they don’t need to die pointlessly. We need to figure out our own survival plan now. Get someone in here to take down a message.”

Michael
Palace of Augustus

“They fucking what?” Michael shouted, throwing a book at the guard who had the misfortune of delivering the most recent spell of bad news to him. Protesters had begun to gather at the base of the Palatine Hill. This had been happening more frequently lately, though the crowds quickly dissipated when directed or when guards were sent out of the palace. Though now, they refused to back down and remained at the base of the palace, pressing against the gates and walls of the estate.

“Sir, I apologize but we did have some soldiers and Scholarians pull back as requested. It’s only that the defenses of the city...” the guard tried to explain but was cut off by more of Michael’s shouting.

“Get out! Get out of here before I cut your fucking tongue out and feed it to you, you fucking twat,” Michael shouted at the guard and made a move towards the door, prompting the guard to quickly duck out of the room as requested. He looked to his hand once he was alone with Antonia, finding it to be shaking uncontrollably. He brought it up to his forehead and breathed rapidly due to nerves.

“They’re coming,” Michael muttered, Antonia perking up though barely able to hear him. “They’re coming and we can’t stop them. And if not them first, the fucking plebs will beat them to it.”

“Then we’ll run,” Antonia grabbed his hand in the hopes of easing him some.

“And where the fuck are we going to run to, Antonia?” Michael rose his voice again and pushed her aside.

“I...I don’t know, Michael,” Antonia lacked a response for the failing Emperor. “If we...we can get out of the palace at least...we’d have a chance.”

“Oh yes, grab all the jewels and valuables. Stuff them in your bags and pockets and we’ll sneak out the back door just before we’re surrounded. Then what? Instead of being torn apart by a mob in the palace myself and you being raped then torn apart in the palace it happens outside these walls,” Michael moved away from her, pacing across the room, looking up at her periodically. “People know what I look like, Antonia. I can’t just disappear or move around freely for fuck’s sake.”

“Why not? There are plenty of other exits, you’ve told me so yourself. We can dress down like a pair of commoners and make the rest of our plans from there.”

“Your Majesty,” Deputy Prefect Laetorius rushed into the room, interrupting any planning of Michael and Antonia.

“What the fuck do you want?” Michael shouted, growing more and more upset.

“It’s the protesters, they’ve attacked some of our defenses west of the river. Some have weapons, some don’t...but they've been overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” Michael said in Greek.

“Thats not all, Caesar,” Laetorius took a deep breath. “More are massing at the base of the Palatine now. I’ve put more guards at the gates in case they break through.”

“Well fucking kill them if you have to. Don’t hesitate.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Laetorius saluted Michael and rushed away.

“Gather your things, anything you can carry on your person. We don’t have much time,” Michael turned to Antonia before leaving the room.

Adrian
Imperial Crypt
Castellum

The Latin capital had become a much busier place recently, making Adrian and his companions stay in the Palatine House most problematic. The night of the first, small protest outside of the Palace of Augustus, Adrian and his few men decided that it was time to move on to a different location closer to the Imperial Crypts. Their destination was only a few blocks away from their previous location, and the city was nearly empty with curfew strictly enforced in locations so near the Palace. As his luck would have it, Michael was foolish enough to hardly, if at all, alter the patrol paths of the city, allowing Adrian Ulpius and his companions a clear path to a vacant home they discovered across the street from the crypt.

The home was small, making their short stay cramped and uncomfortable, but the home had some food in the fridge that wasn't rotten, however if slim in its pickings. They remained there one day, to at least observe the entrance to the crypt for one night before they’d make their entrance into the structure.

That night, Adrian asked his new friends to pack only what they could carry on their person for the light walk across the empty street to the crypt. They knew they needed to be quick, what with the growing protests in certain areas of the capital and even the occasional citizen walking down their street past the crypt. They went one at a time, with the only interruption coming just before Adrian went to cross the street. It turned out to be a stray dog, and Adrian continued across the street and into the Imperial crypt with the rest of his small force.

Inside the crypt was near pitch black, with only pockets of moonlight piercing through the miniscule windows of the old structure. It had been the first time since the “funeral” of Emperor Jason that Adrian had stepped foot inside the building. The late Emperor’s casket had finally been moved from its place of show in the middle of the main room on the first floor to the floor below.

Adrian flicked on the flashlight attached to his rifle to light their way down a flight of stairs. The men were totally silent, with the only sounds being that of mice or other small creatures lurking in the crypt. Reaching the level beneath, they found the tomb of Emperor Jason, next to him that of his first wife, Lady Stephanie Pinaria. Adrian recalled the time he had snuck through the very same tunnels he was now looking for when he was a small child.

The memory was a faint one, and one of the few times he could ever recall seeing Emperor Jason cry. The only other memory from that day was being dragged away by his eldest brother Justin and Prince Leo of Ghant when Constantine decided they didn’t belong there and should leave Emperor Jason alone. Adrian had been fascinated with the tunnels beneath the palace ever since, and he rarely told others of them, though he was sure that others recalled at least their existence.

Even Michael had seemingly forgotten about the existence of the tunnels and passageways that could lead into the palace from elsewhere in the city. “How the fuck did they get out?” Adrian recalled Michael’s explosion when he was told of Princess Selene’s escape from the palace with Count Leon Palaiologi. Though Michael’s brief anger on that front was quickly shifted to the escape of Princess Theodora of Ghant later that night and then again a few days later after the blunder that was the assault on the Ghantish Embassy. The perfect set of distractions. Jumping from one fire to the next, Adrian thought as he found another set of stairs to take his men deeper into the crypts.

On this next level, one of his men spoke up for the first time since leaving the small home. “We going the right way, milord?” Pilatos whispered to Adrian and the others, but his voice carried through the halls.

Adrian, while leading the group, turned back and tried to silence them before pointing to what looked like an ornate grate just above the floor, reaching nearly three feet up. After a kick, the patterned grate was removed and allowed for their entrance into the first set of tunnels. “Quiet and follow me.”

by **New Edom** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 12:20 pm

Approaching Castellum

Mars, the Bringer of War

Admiral Amalek and the Chiefs of Staff back in Fineberg had expressed the hope that the forces in Castellum would simply surrender. However Colonel Zelek not only didn’t think this was likely at the start, he hoped it was not. He wanted to make it clear what would happen if they did not.

“Colonel, air cover from the Chacanos is available, but we have six Terriers over our position now prepared to cover us. We do not anticipate air attacks so they are armed for ground support with only one armed for air to air combat,” reported Major Kazour, the air liaison officer. Both were riding in a boxy command vehicle modeled after the M20 but roomier and a bit taller. Screens flashed and glowed around them. A constant steady buzz of radio, computer and signals filled the air. It was more lightly armed than the other vehicles too. It rolled along the main road with other command unit vehicles including a security platoon.

Earlier, they had had information about Michael’s defenses, and the change had not happened long enough to give the fake emperor time to change anything. Zelek had a rather simple plan: pin down the bunkers and simply roll into the city. The Chacanos would probably take the air assault route. Zelek requested that Admiral Amalek formally send their plan to them. They would advance through the city’s defenses and roll on towards the palace. Now it was a race.

“Let’s have a little music to soothe the savage breast,” said Zelek. “Major Manasseh, you may fire when ready.”

The artillery commander hardly had a huge force like the Chacanos, Jedorians and Leo’s people. But he had 3 self propelled 155mm Panzerhaubite guns and 3 ASTROS II 300 multiple rocket launch systems, as well as an air defense battery. These last were simply on standby in case the unsteady political waters grew rough again. His target was the last known locations of fixed defenses—bunkers and entrenchments—around the city. Hitting those would ideally pin them down and enable the armoured vehicles to advance in.

In addition to this, radio messages were being sent to the city by Task Force Boa which said the following:

CITIZENS OF CASTELLUM! YOUR FALSE EMPEROR, MICHAEL, HAS BETRAYED YOU! HE HAS REFUSED COUNTLESS OFFERS OF PEACE AND RECONCILIATION, MEDIATION AND FAIR TREATMENT OF THE LATE EMNPEROR’S WILL THROUGH THE CPO. HE HAS HAD EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO HAVE PEACE AND REJECECTED THEM ALL. HE ACCUSED SUCH LATIN PATRIOTS AS STRATEGOS ICIUS OF TREASON MERELY FOR DOING THEIR DUTY TO THEIR COUNTRY AND PEOPLE. EMPEROR CONSTANTINE WILL TREAT ALL CITIZENS WELL. THERE WILL BE NO ROBBERY OR MOLESTATION OF CITIZENS. REMAIN CALMLY IN YOUR HOMES AND PUT WHITE CLOTH OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOWS. WHEN WE ENGAGE THE REMAINING SOLDIERS DEFENDING MICHAEL WE EXPECT THEIR SURRENDER SHORTLY AFTER. THEY WILL BE TREATED WITH KINDNESS AND RESPECT. DO NOT RESIST THE ADVANCE OF FRIENDLY EDOMITE, CHACANO, IMPERIAL LATIN, VANNOISIAN OR GHANTISH FORCES.

The great gun barrels were elevated. The artillery had stenciled on them words such as GLORY OF THE LORD, SERAPH, DEATH TO BABYLON. The ASTROS II vehicles raised the great boxes from their carriages and swung them out and towards the enemy position. The gunnery officers checked their field laptops for the coordination of fire from the S-100 drones they were connected to.

One of the Damoclean gunners wiped sweat from his brow inside the vehicle called Seraph remarked, “it’s going to be like we’re breaking in a virgin, shooting up this city’s bunkers. She’s gonna be begging for us to move deep into her.”

“Knock if off, gunner,” snapped the bombardier sergeant in command. He heard the major’s voice in his ear. Make ready. “Make ready!” he responded. At that all the joking stopped. The city was a grey blur on the horizon with the bumps and spikes of taller buildings to the bombardier.

Major Manasseh, crouched in a field trench comvered by camouflage with his staff, earplugs in, sunglasses on. He sipped some milk that they had bought from a nearby dairy. He said “All guns, commence firing! I say again, commence firing!”

The air shook suddenly, dust seemed to hang stunned, as the artillery guns roared their huge shells towards the bunkers and rockets howled from their boxes like streaks of fire from heaven. Beneath their terrible trails three main convoys of armoured vehicles moved forward. One was mostly of the LT-10 Phorusrhacos light tanks, the others mostly vehicle mounted infantry. Commanders and drivers were alertly looking through periscopes and watching their screens for alarm warnings or proximity warnings of enemy missiles, rockets or other attacks. Captain Lucas’ D Company was instructed to be ready to take cover and dismount troops to deal with any feisty enemies still in well defended positions.

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 8:20 pm

“Festina Lente”
Turiaso-Histria county border, Latium
(Co-written with Lacus Magni and Leasath)

The deeper the Ghantish-Vannoisian wine tasting party moved into Latium, the more landscape began to differ. Certain towns along or nearest to the border were overflowing with those fleeing from the area surrounding Espo. Thankfully, the party traveled along the Latin highway system while managing to avoid circling through the despair of Espo and the mighty Frusina river.

Along the road, the party would see the occasional traveller or even a tent or makeshift shelter. Though in traveling down the highway straddling the Turiaso-Histria county border the surroundings appeared more or less normal as this highway was largely remote to begin with and no major settlements until the road reach Vindóbona and split with a road towards Pola and another towards Castellum.

In the heart of the country and winter in Latium, the weather usually hovered near fifty degrees or so, though on this day the heat was pushing seventy with the beating sun making it feel even hotter. The usual look of the countryside in this region of the country consisted of green rolling hills, only now holding a more yellow or brownish shade due to the time of season.

The party had taken a few stops in order to get a few moments of rest or to use the bathroom, which many did compliments of Vannoisian portable “chamber pots” as the Ghantish called them. Many of the northern Ghantar with them on the other hand, used small shovels to dig holes to relieve themselves in, and then promptly covered them back up after they were finished. Nathan and the rest who had dressed a certain way for the wine tasting tour changed into more appropriate clothes at the first convenient stop, and whenever they made others, he took advantage of the opportunity to piss on the side of the road, be it against a tree, in a bush or tall grass.

“As much as I think porta-potties are a good idea,” he commented to Maria after returning to their big tarped-top truck, “I do fancy pissing on the side of the road.” After he got seated once again in the back of the truck, he leaned his head back and tugged at his brown tunic. “You know, we always talked about taking a road trip...funny how that finally came to fruition eh?”

“I suppose that's pretty funny. Though I would have preferred an entirely different set of circumstances,” Maria forced out a smile while cooling herself with a small handfan.

“To hell with circumstances,” Nathan laughed in response to Maria’s observation. “I create opportunities.” he got a glass of wine from his cousin Anastasia and raised it, before taking a deep gulp. Not long after that their truck was back on the highway again, and it didn’t go unnoticed that there were far more vehicles going in the opposite direction.

Catherine turned her nose up at both the portable restrooms and the antics of the northern Ghantar, repeating that she would in fact be, “Absolutely fine for as long as it takes,” in a strained tone. Jean-Marc, on the other hand, had no issue with using the facilities brought along by the host and was quite content on their ride overall.

“You know, Catherine,” Anastasia observed as she poured herself a glass of wine from one of the barrels that they took with them, “eventually you’re either going to piss or shit yourself. Your clothes will be ruined and everyone will laugh at you and mock you as ‘Princess Pissy Pants’ or ‘Princess Poopy Pants.’ Might as well swallow your pride and use one of them, or wait until we get to the nearest Burger Dux or whatever’s out here.”

“I assure you, if ever I earn a nickname for my actions it will not be so funny as either of those,” the Vannoisian Princess muttered darkly, looking out at the countryside and away from her companions. Her mood had seemed to take a turn for the worse as they moved through Latium, near Espo where the worst night of her life thus far had occurred. She was troubled by the reminders, and took to simply gazing out the window of their vehicle rather than interacting with the others during the ride.

Prince Paul sat beside his cousin the Emperor, though he himself didn’t drink, preferring to keep sober. “I believe the proper name is Burgense Dux.”

“...That makes it sound like they’re duck burgers,” Anastasia commented as she shifted to sitting with folded legs on the floor of the truck.

Rather than respond to his cousin, Paul looked towards Catherine and said “with all due respect, my princess, I would hate to see your dignity besmirched,” the prince lamented. “It pains me to see you so discomforted. Were you to see to your...personal effects, I would be greatly relieved.”

Anastasia nodded, and raised her glass. “You see? Paul here know’s what’s up.” Afterward, she turned to Constantia and offered her a full wine glass. “You know what they say...the closer you are to home, the more drunk you ought to be...well, when I say ‘they’ what I really mean is ‘me,’” she smiled.

Catherine smiled hollowly at Paul, ignoring Anastasia’s comments for the moment. “Perhaps, if we come upon one of these Burgense Dux places. You have my thanks for your concern, though I surely can handle myself,” she said, before turning away once more. “A woman grown, I think I know my own limits.”

Constantia offered Anastasia a faint smile in return for the full glass of wine, taking a slow and light sup at the glass. “Home sounds nice,” the young noble thought before quickly recalling that her home was probably little more than a ruin at this point.

“...What’s it like?” Anastasia asked her curiously.

“It’s off in the hills, further north of here… just before the Frusina converges into a single river. It was...it’s peaceful when you go down through the gardens down to the water. My brothers took me fishing there when we were little,” Constantia’s voice began to trail off until she just stopped speaking entirely and took a heavy drink from her glass.

Anastasia looked at her wine glass and twirled it around. “...I think the one time I went fishing, my older brothers threw me into the water to try to use me as bait for sea monsters,” she finished with a laugh.

“I remember that,” the Emperor chuckled into his glass. “Your mother was furious. Cassandra though, she laughed hysterically. You’re too young to remember, but when we were little, she used to push me into the water and then yell at the servants to dive in after me.”

“...I don’t find that surprising at all,” she replied with a sarcastic smirk.

Nathan scooted over to Maria and sat down beside her. “You want some of this?” he asked her as he offered her his glass of black Vannoisian wine.

“Why not,” Maria smiled, though tried to discreetly put a little more distance between her and Nathan as he offered her wine. After taking a sip she handed it back, hoping the glass wouldn’t spill once the truck began to move again, “Mhm, that’s lovely. What year is it?”

“...2017,” Nathan answered. “I’ll be 29 in a few weeks, and Emperor for twenty years for twenty years come May, if you can believe that.” he noticed when scooted away from him, and asked for another glass. “Unless you meant the year of the vintage, in which case my answer would be ‘fuck if I know.’”

“No, of course I meant the wine, Nathan,” Maria laughed at him. “You don’t remember what the bottle said...or I guess barrel in this case?”

Nathan laughed and lightly banged the back of his head against the inside wall of the truck. “Maria, if you had to read as many communiques as I do, you wouldn’t be voluntarily reading anything if you didn’t have to.”

“Perhaps not,” she gave him what might have been her first genuine smile of the trip. “But it is only four numbers and maybe three words tops. Surely that wouldn’t be a burden for you.”

“If you want to know so bad, go see for yourself,” he pointed at the wine barrel. “I’m just going to sit here and think.”

“I probably shouldn’t be walking around while we’re moving,” Maria told him after looking towards the barrel. “That’s just asking to get hurt or worse with my luck.”

“Last I checked, your luck has been pretty good,” the Emperor laughed off her observation. “Compare to those two over there...and my sister…”

“I was only kidding, Nathan,” Maria’s smile quickly disappeared, her face now showing a hint of anger. “But leave it to you to turn it something else entirely.”

Catherine, catching the last words of the Ghantish Emperor, turned her face toward him. A sneer marred it, and she shook her head. “I wonder each day what cousin Dom sees in a man such as yourself, Emperor Nathan. Perhaps there is yet still something myself and my brother agree upon.”

The Emperor swirled the wine around in his glass, and thought about what was just said by Maria and Catherine. Anastasia and Paul looked at each other with looks of interest to hear what their cousin might say. “I wonder too, Catherine. I wonder everyday why she threw her life away to be with me, and I equally wonder why I succumbed to her advances. I never went out of my way to stray from Sophia...other women kept coming around and tangling their bait, so to speak, and eventually I bit. I’m a weak man, my princess, prone to passion. I won’t deny that.”

Draining his glass, he got some more and spoke after some additional thought. “I’ve spent a good amount of my life trying to be someone I’m not, because I didn’t have a choice. I have the scars on my back, arms and legs to show for it. I decided long ago then I’m not going to live my life pretending to be something I’m not...I’m going to do what I think is right. Dominique and I were together under less than ideal circumstances, and she took with child. I wasn’t going to throw her out and our child into a world of shame and bastardy. I took her in and took responsibility for that child, because that was the right thing to do.”

Nathan closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall of the truck. “I gave refuge to Jason’s children, because that was the right thing to do. I did everything within reason to try to intervene by force of arms for Constantine...because that was the right thing to do. And, when we get to Castellum, I will do whatever I can to save your brother Michael, because he is your brother and that’s the right thing to do. I’ve wanted to hurt him, kill him even, but I won’t, for that very reason. I couldn’t save your father’s opinion of me, I couldn’t save you and me,” he said to Maria, “but I will try to save your brother. And like all those other things, I will expect nothing in return.”

As the other Ghantish royals amongst them looked on, Nathan added to those present, “We all know what my ancestors would do. William the Golden Knight would gallop up to the gates of Castellum alone, vanquish his enemies with his sword, and ride through the rubble to slay Michael with his left hand and his champion with his right. I am not the Golden Knight. But we will press on, and we will free Castellum…or I shall die in the attempt. Perhaps then, people will see something more in me than what you lot do."

Catherine huffed, scowling still. “As intriguing as the justifications for your actions are, Emperor Nathan, you’ll find that little will change my opinion of you. Then again, I am Vannoisian, and a Niort-Parthenay atop that; perhaps that is expected. For every thoughtless Dominique we have produced, there is yet a fair few who are not seduced by the simplest of words.” The Princess shook her head. “However this war may end, I would never think of it again beyond this campaign. Heroism and horrors together can rot for all I care.”

“...This world needs more heroes,” Paul countered somberly. “If only because people need something...someone, to believe in.”

“There’s no such thing as heroes,” Constantia mumbled in Greek.

“...Tell us how you really feel, bro,” Anastasia yawned as she poured herself another drink.

Maria listened quietly throughout Nathan’s outburst, hardly feeling sorry for him by the time he reached the end. That’s what your brother would do...that’s what he is doing, the Latin Princess thought when he finally turned and addressed the others in the truck. She thought about saying that or saying any number of possibly harsh words to him, but no matter how upset she had been with him recently he had always been a close friend. Instead she kept them all to herself, only sighing as reached over for another glass of wine. “Maybe it’s time we stopped again?”

The Emperor nodded, and said “we probably should.” Anastasia knocked on the window separating the cab from the back of the truck, and they slowed down and pulled over. Nathan got out of the truck expediently, and went to sit on the side of the road while Paul stood beside him, and another truck pulled over to let some guard-soldiers stream out.

Lady Constantia remained near Princess Catherine, still not overly comfortable or trusting with the others in the traveling party. But Princess Maria would exit the truck after some others had shuffled off. When she reached the ground, she looked over towards Nathan sitting on the side of the road before turning to walk the other way for the portable restrooms.

“...What should he do?” Anastasia asked Maria after the former caught up to her. “I mean, he’s been really bent out of shape lately...probably why he’s been drinking in excess. Everyone’s so hard on him...all the damn time, you know?”

“I don’t know…” Maria spoke to Anastasia quietly in case others were listening. “He has so many people pulling him in different directions and for so long too. The same thing’s probably happening to Constantine, and I can’t even imagine what it’s like for him.”

“Probably not that different, really.” Anastasia had a Vannoisian potty with her, and looked for a discreet place to use it. “It’s obvious that you two care about each other, and if things would have worked out differently, you’d be in Ghish wearing Paulina’s crown,” she observed as she found some tall grass and made herself comfortable. “But alas, we are where we are. Castellum is going to be a shitshow no matter what happens, and if we’re going to get anything done we have to stick together. With him especially, fool that he may be.”

“Maybe once upon a time that was a possibility. Too many things got in the way of that,” Maria sighed, looking for a place in the tall grass for herself to claim. “Oh, there’s a shitshow here too - a lesser one, but a mess all the same. For our sake let’s just hope everyone is more sober when we finally arrive.”

Not too far off, Teresa was in the grass as well...though she didn’t seem to be using a potty. When she noticed Anastasia glancing in her direction, Teresa shrugged and said, “when you’re as old as me, how you pee doesn’t matter. I could quite literally pee myself, and people would think that’s normal because I’m old,” she explained before she finished and patted herself down. “And for the record, the only things that get in the way are the things that you let get in the way. That’s why I’m not dead yet…” she smiled before walking away.

“Fuck,” Maria jumped up and yelped in Greek, completely surprised by Teresa. “Was she there the whole time?”

“Probably,” Anastasia shrugged casually as she finished her business. “You startle easily. Anyway we should probably head back...we’ve got a ways to go, and some drinking to do as well. You’re a cool cat, Maria...I can see why Nathan likes you.” the Ghantish Princess straightened out the skirt of her dress and started walking back slowly, so Maria could catch up easily.

“I do not startle easily,” Maria finished and quickly caught up to Anastasia. When she reached the Ghantish princess, Maria was speaking softly to herself, “He still likes me?” Then she spoke more directly to Anastasia. “I didn’t want to come on this trip, but I’m glad someone interesting was around for once.”

Anastasia threw her head back in laughter. “We shall see about that. And still likes you? Shit...let me tell you something. If Sophia dropped dead tomorrow, who do you think he’d want to remarry?” Once she got back to road, she nodded her head towards the truck. “Everyone’s more interesting when they’re intoxicated...that’s why I drink and recommend drinking,” she laughed some more, as soldiers brushed by doing patrols while the front of the caravan was stopped. She could see cars stretching back for some time.

Maria let Anastasia’s words linger in her mind as the pair walked back to the trucks. “I suppose so,” she said as she hopped up into the truck and then went for some wine. “Hopefully there won’t be many more stops, we need to get going.”

After the girls climbed back in, the Emperor and his cousin Paul did too, and once they were all strapped in, they began to get going once again, further down the country highway that was sparse of traffic. The Ghantish were generally quiet, though Anastasia made smalltalk and Paul inquired as to the ladies’ comfort and needs, without seeming too pushy or eager to please. Nathan and Anastasia both drank to pass the time.

Once everyone has back aboard and ready to move out, the Ghantish-Vannoisian caravan proceeded south along the national highway towards Vindóbona. The current state of the surrounding traffic remained nearly the same for a number of miles, though gradually there were cars passing by heading in the opposite direction. Soon, even the rolling hills began to shift to flatter fields as they fully entered the county of Histria and were nearing on Vindóbona. From Vindóbona, the highway would fork towards Pola or Cularo. And finally after taking the highway to Cularo, the convoy would soon be in the Latin capital itself.

And come what may of that…

by **Lacus Magni** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 8:41 pm

Adrian
Imperial Crypts - Underneath the Palace of Augustus
Castellum

“You sure this is the right way, milord?” a soldier groaned to Adrian as they crawled through one of the tighter passageways under the Latin capital. “I swear I almost was stuck here once before.”

Adrian would have shaken his head if the space they occupied weren’t so cramped. “Don’t worry, we haven’t been through this way before before.”

“How you so sure you know where we’re going?”

“Because I’ve been through these tunnels and inlets dozens of times,” Adrian said, finally reaching the end of the tight passageway. He crawled a ways further before standing and dusting himself off and raising his rifle fitted with a flashlight to take in his surroundings. On the ground he could still see some of the footprints and tracks from his last move through the tunnels with Selene and Leon. He wondered where she was, what had happened to her, but neither his mother nor Master of Soldiers Caelius knew where she was being held or at least they claimed. That left it with Michael. God knows he wouldn’t harm his own sister, he thought as the others behind him shuffled out of the small passageway, I’ll beat it out of him if I have too. “Lucky for us that’s the tightest one.”

“Oh, thank God,” a soldier moaned after he stood, stretching out his stiff limbs. This one was from county Karchidonia, the one who held the knife to his throat that first night. He wasn’t overly intelligent, but he had proved to so far be Adrian’s most trusted of the small band of soldiers. “I didn’t think we’s going to get outta there.”

“How much further, milord?” another asked as they began to congregate in the opening that lead to a selection of two further tunnels or outlets to explore.

Adrian shined his light down each tunnel and then down to the ground, spotting more footprints from his travel with Selene. “This way, to the right,” he trekked onward and the men followed.

The men walked behind him in groups of either two or three, room permitting. With Adrian in the lead and focused on not getting them lost, the men spoke amongst themselves now that they had the freedom to move on their feet instead of their hands and knees. “I wonder how many men they have up in there?” he heard one say of the palace.

“I heard some woman say that the boy had killed near everyone in there. Says she used to work in the offices, near empty ‘cept the boy and a guard or two,” another mentioned. “Says place was covered in blood when everyone ran out.”

“Quiet,” Maurice Pilatos, the large Karchidonian man declared once he’d heard enough. “It don’t matter whats up there. All that matters is that we’re going to kill it if it gets in our way.” The rest of the men let out a proud “Huah.”

Adrian peeked back over his shoulder before placing his attention back to the footing ahead, using the light on his weapon to guide them. He led them through the tunnel to the right, watching the footsteps from his last walkthrough. It kept his thoughts focused on Selene, Leon and Theodora, though as he came to the end of the tunnel and faced to last obstacle between them and their entrance to the palace, his thoughts shifted to his mother and brother George…if either of them are still alive.

He wanted nothing more than to find out by barging his way into the medieval dungeons and help them escape, but there was something else that needed to be done first. “Not much further,” he declared as they came to the end of the last, and tighter tunnel, coming upon a small steel ladder in a far off corner of the tunnels exit. “This should take us to the apartments,” he said, though that confused some of the soldiers with him, “...the residence.”

He climbed the ladder first, opening up into a small broom closet. He told his men to wait below while he took a look through the slightly ajar door, finding the hallway to be totally void of all staff, patrols or people. Adrian motioned down to Pilatos for others to begin moving up to meet in the cramped closet. “We’ll be on the first floor now, to reach the grand apartment we need to reach the second floor at least to gain entrance. It will probably be the heaviest guarded place in the building.”

“Nothing we can’t handle, milord,” Pilatos nodded along with the others.

“Good. We’ll stick in a single group, harder to break up that way and harder to get ambushed,” Adrian added, though he was skeptical on just how difficult it would be to get ambushed. The walls were as wide as any in this palace, but if they ended up trapped in certain corridors, who knew what could happen. He also doubted the patrols differed much from before he left, if anything they’d be lighter if the rumors of Michael’s madness were true.

Finally he took a deep breath and carefully moved out into the hall, followed by Pilatos and the rest of their group. They moved swiftly through the first floor of the Palace of Augustus, coming upon no resistance reaching a hidden flight of stairs in a seemingly random doorway. Pilatos was the first one through, and Adrian heard an unfamiliar voice say “Hey” before being silenced by a knife, the guard’s body falling to the floor grasping at their bleeding throat.

They kept on moving up the narrow, winding staircase, exiting at the first doorway. It was Adrian’s turn to go first this time, catching a quick look at the surroundings outside. He noticed a single guard just turning a corner, causing Adrian to lurk back as he waited for him to pass by. Once he had, Adrian slowly crept along, pulling a concealed dagger from the sleeve of his jacket. He grabbed the patroller by the shoulder, ramming the dagger into his back, covering the guard’s mouth with his hand in the hopes of keeping things as silent as possible. The body struggled for a time, though went limp and Adrian dragged the lifeless body back to the hidden doorway where Pilatos and the others began to funnel out.

“One right and then the third door on the left,” Adrian whispered as Pilatos rose his rifle down the hall Adrian has just been. He fired his suppressed weapon, though it still resonated off the walls of the Palace. Adrian looked around worriedly. The palace appeared empty as he could ever remember it at such late hours of the night, but with cameras placed throughout the building and the sound of the gunshot, how long could they have to achieve their goal? “We need to move fast.”

And that they did, turning down the first right, finding no sign of other guards down the hallway leading to the lower levels of the grand apartments. He’s not here, Adrian thought, otherwise we’d be in a fight right now. The level of resistance was also queer to Pilatos and the others, Adrian hearing murmurs of conversation of the like behind him.

Now it was Pilatos’ turn to enter first when the group came upon the entranceway to the grand apartment. Adrian entered after him, finding the first room to be bare of any persons or staff. By now he was sure Michael would know of the invasion of the palace by Adrian’s small force. His men moved throughout the grand apartments, eventually realizing the only other person in the area was a single woman in Imperial bedchambers.

Adrian was the first to discover her, finding her as she rapidly stuffed a large bag with some belongings placed next to it on the large bed. She jumped back when she heard the door break open, causing her to mumble to herself quickly with her eyes closed and then took a deep breath. Praying it seemed. “Adrian...I thought you were dead?” the woman turned out to be Michael’s lover Antonia Frontalia. She looked concerned, and much larger than the slender woman she was when Emperor Jason died.

“Not yet, my Lady,” Adrian said politely as he lowered his rifle and entered the room. “Where is he? It’s important I reach him quickly.”

She looked skeptical. “Why? What are you going to do?”

Adrian lowered his rifle and looked to the ground. “What should have been done a long time ago. Now, where is he?” Adrian in a severe tone, approaching the bed slowly, causing her to move back towards the headboard. I don’t want to hurt her, but if she doesn’t say She tried to hop off the other side of the bed when he was close enough, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back. “Antonia I need to know.”

She screeched when she felt his pull and tight grip, falling into nervous, rapid breathing. “The...throne room. He’s in the throne room…”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his family’s coat of arms on a piece of paper near the nightstand. Another slip of paper underneath it was scribbled in Greek print, he picked the paper up, reading his mother’s and Emperor Jason’s names at the top of the sheet. Below were a handful of unintelligible scribbles with lines drawn to where he read ‘Adrian’ with a thick circle drawn around it. Next to his own name were those of three of his siblings, Justin, George and Helena. He took another look at the paper and then to Antonia before throwing it down.

With one last look around the room before leaving, his eye landed on the ancestral sword of the Claudii, Lokatz. Foolish name for such a beautiful weapon. Lokatz was of Arragaran steel, said to be the sword of Felix Claudius, the first King of Latium. It sat above the mantle of a fireplace unsheathed, allowing him to see its hints of red through the dark grey blade. He had only seen it once before, never having the chance to hold it. When he took it by the hilt and brought it off the mantle, he was surprised at just how light the bastard sword was.

The young lord couldn’t figure out why, but something was telling him to take the sword. Take it. Take it, he heard his inner thoughts. He quickly sheathed the weapon and secured it to his back. “Don’t leave this room, no matter what you hear,” Adrian told her after he released her and stood at the doors. She heard him say it at least, whether or not she would listen was another. He left her alone in the Imperial bedchamber, locking the door from the inside, closing it and jamming the door to keep her from escaping.

“Couldn’t find him, milord,” Pilatos reported to Adrian with two other flanking him. From the looks of it they turned the rooms inside out looking for him. Before Adrian had the chance to respond, he heard a ruckus from outside the room.

“He’s in the throne room,” Adrian replied without missing a beat. Pilatos and the others beginning for form up near the door. As quickly as they entered and searched, Adrian and his men began to move through the halls towards the flight of stairs closest to the throne room. But before they could reach it, they were ran into trouble.

“Lord Adrian,” a voice said with a warm sarcasm. It sounded like, Peter Laetorius, one of Michael’s few remaining guards. Adrian was never quite sure why all the lowborn men of Michael’s guard thought it entertaining to use the lord moniker as a mocking one. But it was certainly one of their favorites. “This your work?” he pointed to one of the dead guards they encountered previously.

“Get out of my way,” Adrian drew his weapon, along with Pilatos and his band of soldiers.

“I think it’s time you surrender. You can’t win, we have hundreds of soldiers in the palace and thousands more at our disposal,” Alexius Sedatius, another of Michael’s guard added. “Surrender now and the Emperor shall be more merciful than an oathbreaker like you deserves.

The two of Michael’s guard stood with fewer soldiers or guards behind them than Adrian. He expected that they wouldn’t be caught in the rear, impossible to get that many around without noticing. Adrian and his near twenty men all drew their weapons, Pilatos inching up as much he could, ready to take the shot. “Yet we have more men here...now,” Pilatos spoke with his noticeable accent.

Michael’s two guards laughed. “Have you seen your mother yet?” Laetorius sniggered and looked towards Sedatius. “I expect not, otherwise you wouldn’t have engaged in this discussion. You’re a smart boy though, you know what the Emperor does to traitors...especially one’s that happen to be whores.”

Adrian had enough and was the first to fire his weapon, catching Laetorius in the right shoulder - the man immediately falling to the floor with a scream. After that it was chaos. Gunfire and bullets crossed the hallway, striking a number of soldiers on either side of the stalemate. Adrian quickly moved to cover, along with Piltaos as the standoff began. He fired another shot from around the pillar without looking so to remain in cover.

The largest numbers of those lost would fall within the onset of the exchange of gunfire, with the altercation drawing to a stalemate and occasional movement to search for a clear shot. However, after some time of random gunfire in either direction, more fire began to come from the side of Michael supporters, but it wasn’t in their support. Whatever men from Michael’s supporters were present were now all slain.

“Lord Adrian,” a voice rang out. It sounds like Vespillio. “It’s Theodosius Vespillio, you can come out now. No foul play, you have my word.”

Adrian looked to Pilatos, the man who had quickly become his greatest ally among the small band of soldiers sat on the ground with his back to the pillar marked with blood and bullet holes. Pilatos shook his head no, so Adrian didn’t move and remained silent.

“I know why you’re here. Why you’re doing what you’re doing,” Vespillio began to speak again. Adrian could hear the man mumble and then the sound of a weapon being placed on the floor. “I’m sorry, for everything. They tried to make me do things...terrible things to your mother and brother.”

And that was what caused Adrian to break from his cover. He didn’t bother simply peaking his head out ever-so-slightly, instead he fully exposed himself, finding Vespillio standing with his arms in the air and three other soldiers standing behind him totally still, though not appearing ready to shoot at him. “What did you do to her?” Adrian’s hand shook as he drew his weapon and looked down at Vespillio. “I swear to God if you…”

“I swear, I didn’t do what they wanted me too,” Vespillio’s voice appeared genuine to Adrian, and the man had never had the ability to act other than what he wore on his face by Adrian’s previous experience. “But...but they did those things anyway.”

“And you did nothing!?” Adrian now stood right in front of Vespillio with the barrel of his gun no more than a foot away from the soldier. “You let her die, you’re just as bad as them. I should fucking kill you right here and now.”

“I deserve it, I don’t deny,” Vespillio sounded apologetic enough, but Adrian was fuming. He had tears running down his face, his hands shaking so much he could hardly hold still. “I won’t blame you, I was awful to you and it took me until what I saw they did to your mother to realize it. I’m so sorry it took that long.”

Pilatos moaned and labored to lift himself off the palace floor, walking towards Adrian. But before he could reach Adrian lowered his rifle and dropped it to the floor. “Is she…?”

Vespillio dipped his head and slowly put a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Last night...I’m so…”

Adrian forcefully shook Vespillio’s hand away from him and quickly stomped down the hall to face Michael. “Pilatos, with me,” Adrian ordered, hardly missing a beat as he quickly paced down the hall.

Vespillio and his soldiers followed along with the few remaining of Adrians. “What are you doing? Adrian, stop. Don’t do anything rash!”

His walk down the hall felt like a complete blur due to his rage. He could hear footsteps from his followers to his rear and the continued pleas from Vespillio to not do anything he would regret. I only regret not being here sooner, he thought rounding one last hallway to find Michael standing there with the his large enforcer Ajax Ischyrós and few other men. If not for Pilatos, Adrian would have kept on walking until he had run a sword through Michael. “Wait, milord,” Pilatos stammered out while there remained some distance between Adrian and his goal.

“I have your brother right here, Adrian,” Michael said in his prideful voice. Adrian peered around Pilatos’ to see that his brother George, The Duke of Lomvardía, chained up and by indication was propped up in an attempt to give the appearance of life. From where Adrian stood, it appeared his brother wasn’t even breathing. “Turn around, drop your weapons and I’ll let you leave with your brother.”

No you won’t. Pilatos stepped out of Adrian’s way, though tried to pull him back for whatever cover they could find before the guns began to fire. “Get off me!” Adrian said to Pilatos, though offered no reply, causing Ajax to yank at the young Duke’s chains, causing the limp body to fall to the ground. I was too late again. “Kill them all,” Adrian could hear Michael speak to Ajax.

Seconds later the next battle in the palace hallways began when the three soldiers with Michael began firing their weapons. Adrian was spared from harm by Pilatos stepping in front of him as a shield, though slipped away to the floor lifelessly after pushing the young lord aside. The gun fire wouldn’t last long however, with Vespillio, his own and what few remained of Adrian’s initial force following behind him.

“Arrest that traitor, Centurion! Arrest them all now. Do it, I am the Emperor!” Michael shouted from behind Ajax once there was a silence. “I told you, Adrian, I have the upper hand. You can’t run to your dead mother now.”

Adrian was pressed against a wall, only provided with very little cover from Michael if he remained still. He looked to Vespillio nervously and ready to fire his rifle if need be. Vespillio looked to the ground and the dead body of Pilatos, before exchanging a glare with Adrian with a nod.

“Prince Michael, you are hereby under arrest for high treason to the Imperial Crown of this realm,” Vespillio roared out, perhaps thinking if he said it with force Michael would be more likely to be intimidated and submit. Adrian stepped out from the wall, looking to Pilatos and doing a quick sign of the cross, then picked up the man’s sidearm pistol. He looked to Michael, the prince had never looked so surprised at any point Adrian could remember. Michael’s lips quivered, he looked to the ground and at Ajax in confusion.

“Kill them! Kill them all,” Michael finally shouted as he cautiously began stepping backwards. A guard was standing just behind him, Michael stumbling into him as he made an attempt to flee. “Get out of my way,” he yelled at the man, throwing him forward as the Emperor began to run down the hall.

Most of the men that had been surrounding Michael looked on in confusion, halfheartedly pointing their weapons towards Adrian and his new allies. One appeared to nearly pull the trigger but slowly took a hand off the the weapon and raised his arms in the air, slowly placing the weapon on the ground. Adrian was relieved, until the lumbering Ajax Ischyrós threw a quick punch into the man’s face, causing him to fall to the ground.

The others surrounding the 6’9,” monstrously strong leader of Michael’s guard either tried to point their weapon at Ischyrós or run. Those that ran were the luckiest, though one that remained behind was able to get a shot off, striking the giant in his thigh. He screeched, before shoving the man to the ground and driving the end of his rifle into the man’s head.

Meanwhile, Adrian was rushing towards Ischyrós in the hopes of maneuvering past him somehow in order to reach Michael. He was unable to get around the large man, catching Ischyrós’ stare just after he crushed the poor soldier’s head. Adrian panicked, trying to fire his sidearm at the man, though to his surprise the gun was empty and fired no shots. He gulped as Ischyrós took the first swing at him. Adrian only managed to evade the full force of the punch my jumping to his side, though Ischyrós was still able to hit Adrian, causing him to wince and fall to the ground in pain.

On the ground, Adrian could hear the footsteps of what he hoped were Vespillo and their men. He fumbled over his back as he reached for Lokatz. It was a foolish mistake. He was able to finally grip the weapon’s hilt, though was unable to unsheath it in time to avoid the grip of the massive Greek. Ischyrós lifted him up off the marble floor of the palace hallway. He struggled to breath as the Greek worked to strangle the life out of him as his feet were lifted off the floor. He tried to swing at the Greek’s arms to attempt and break free from his grip. He tried to reach for the concealed knife in his sleeve, but couldn’t feel for it. His vision was fading, turning black. This is it, he thought one last time as his eyes closed.

And then he hit the floor, gasping for air as he lay on his side coughing. Then he heard a thud, Ischyrós falling to his knees with blood spewing from his neck. Adrian labored to stand on his feet, using a gun of a fallen soldier as a crutch to help him stand. Behind Ajax Ischyrós stood a small woman dressed in pant suit, she must have been no more than an unfortunate lowly Imperial Offices employee. She held a blood covered knife in her hand, dropping it once she realized what she did and now breathing heavily.

One of Vespillo’s men rushed to the woman and attempted to calm her. Adrian reached his hand over his back to feel for the hilt of Lokatz. In the commotion it fell from its sheath, shimmering from the ground below. Vespillo handed the hand-and-a-half sword to Adrian, who promptly took a swift swing at Ischyrós, Michael’s most imposing bodyguard falling to the ground more quickly than anyone could have imagined.

Adrian quickly sheathed the sword and grabbed the nearest gun he could find before taking off down the long hallway in the direction Michael had run. He knew where the would-be emperor had run. The throne room, it was the place Michael coveted more than anything else in the world. That’s where he’ll be, Adrian thought as he reached the door, finding a single man standing guard outside of the large double doors.

The man was shaking, and no enemy of Adrian. He meekly raised his weapon at Adrian as the young lord approached and slowed down his sprint. He can’t do it. He doesn’t want to, just like the other, he thought just before the man lowered his weapon and spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“Get to the roof. Lower the Standard, and have Vespillo issue a surrender” Adrian said without looking at the man who nodded at him. “And don’t come in, no matter what you hear.” The man nodded and ran off towards Vespillo and the other soldiers.

Adrian found the door unlocked yet, barricaded enough to slow his entrance. Soon enough though, he was through the double doors with his pistol drawn and fired at the first person he saw, only expecting to see one man in the room. But he didn’t shoot Michael, instead it was Flavius Gavius, the one remaining Privy Councillor of the would-be emperor. Michael was near laughing when Adrian stared at Gavius below him on the floor. He felt terrible, it was an accident, he thought. But he lifted his head and fired what would be the only remaining bullet in the gun at Michael.

Michael fell to the floor after being hit, but he wasn’t done yet. He still tried to climb the small steps up to the throne. Adrian made sure to lock the doors before unsheathing Lokatz from it’s position on his back and throwing the gun to the side of the room. Michael struggled up the steps, finally reaching the foot of the fine, ornate chair of the Latin Emperors before Adrian placed one foot on the back of Michael’s knee. His second cousin gulped, rolling over to face Adrian as best he could under those circumstances, and said only one word while taking a spit at Adrian. “Brother.”

Adrian gripped Lokatz tight and drove the sword through Michael’s heart. The young lord watched the life escape from the would-be emperor’s eyes until there was nothing left. Now there can be peace. He thought to wipe the sword clean and meet up with his new compatriots. Instead, he climbed the steps and sat atop the Latin throne, his sword dripping in the blood of the last man who tried to claim it, waiting to see who would be the first to enter the throne room.

Code: Select all: To the Forces of Emperor Constantine, His Allies and the people of Latium: The usurper is dead. Slain in the throne room. The Imperial Standard has been lowered. Replaced with a flag of surrender. To those forces remaining loyal to the usurper - the fight is done. We now offer the Palatine to Emperor Constantine.

by **Republica De Gran Chaco** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 9:14 pm

2nd Battalion, CLI

All the regiment’s battalion commanders and their staff and the company commanders and their first sergeants, were crowded in the large command tent. Up at the front the regimental S-3 was going over the different slides of the palace and the bridge, “Gentlemen, we are launching a joint assault in the city center tomorrow morning with the Latin air assault regiment. Our goals are to seize three bridges in the city center.”

The S-3 paused for a moment, “And to take down the palace, hopefully taking Michael.”

There was a murmur throughout the officer there Bryan leaned over to the battalion sergeant major, “Huh so it looks like the end then.”

The Sergeant Major shrugged, “We’ll see about that sir. It aint through till we’re home fucking our wives.”

Bryan grinned and nodded, “Right as usual, Sergeant Major. I’d like to believe that this is it though.”

“And I’d like one of these local girl’s mouths on my dick sir, but we don’t have what isn’t in our hands.” Bryan laughed at that comment. That was one of the things of being at battalion that he had truly come to love. The Sergeant Major was a crusty old vet, crude through and through. He was a superb soldier though and relyable as hell. The Sergeant Major also actually had a good heard and cared about the men very, even though he never showed it. The men were petrified of him though, but Bryan had become very fond of the scowling face always holding canteen cup full of coffee.

The S-3 began again, going over every one’s role. 1st Battalion would land on the east bank, with 3rd on the west. Together they would seize the ends of a bridge and then expand out linking up with the Latins, who were doing roughly the same thing. Their goal was to have one united and secure bubble down town with 3 bridges in the middle. They would hold until the Edomites were there to reinforce the group and to take over part of the line. Second Battalion was to secure the north side of the palace and then move in to sweep through and clear it out. The south would be taken by Latin air assault troops. Once secured they would also take their place on the line, holding the western foothold until the main force arrived and relieved them. Rico Scouts were going to be going along with second battalion, to try and locate Michael, but there weren’t enough of them to quickly secure the building, so the lower levels were to be cleared out by CLI men. Details were gone over, and the meeting was adjourned so that the company commanders could go and brief their men about the operation. Dust off was at 6:45 the next morning, so that they could land at first light.

Bryan had to go and make sure everyone was supplied for the assault. They would be going in with what was necessary for a potential stand. The only things that the men were bringing was food, water, and lots of ammo, as much as they could get. Bryan also made sure that all the FN Mags were being carried. Because of their role in fireforce missions, the CLI never carried the L4 Brens that were common in most other infantry units. They only had the heavier FN Mag machine guns, and they had a lot more than most units would. Bryan wanted them all issued out so that every stick had one, particularly with the units that were going to be on blocking duty outside. He didn’t want to get overrun for lack of defensive firepower. Bryan also wend to regiment a gathered up the cases of zipties that had been issued for taking prisoners. He had these delivered to all the companies.

The mission had the potential to be a dangerous one, urban fighting in a hostile city, at least they would have tons of air support. Every plane, and roovalk attack helicopter was to be assigned to them in case they were in danger. That was a comfort, all the same Bryan sat down and penned a quick letter to his wife. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about Alicia. He wanted nothing more than to go home and to be with her. Bryan grabbed the rosary beads with one hand and prayed that everything would go smoothly so he could get home so see the birth of his child.

The rotors of the hueys were whirling around kicking up dust and making it hard to see. Everyone ran to their bird and settled in. Bryan took his seat next to the door by the gunner so he could watch the approach. He noticed, that marine brigadier with the slight build walking from chopper to chopper. Brigadier Tomás came up to his and grabbed Bryan by the arm and yelled over the noise, “Good luck boys! God bless you all!”

That was just another sign of the seriousness of this mission. Earlier Bryan had noticed the Rico Scout boys geared up for the mission. They always looked different. They tended to carry what they wanted so M4s were commonplace over the Galils that most units had. But today they were kitted out for an urban fight. Black, light skateboard helmets and goggle replaced the camouflaged boonie hats they wore in the field. This was so that they didn’t bump their heads as they flew through the building room to room. They had knee pads on to drop and shoot on hard surfaces, and they also wore something that was indeed rare in Chaco, armored plate carriers. They looked like they were ready for a close fight.

Bryan put his headset on so he could hear what was being said over the intercom and the radio. The command was given and the choppers started lifting off. Soon the huey raised itself over the clouds of dust and started heading out in formation with the other choppers. This was the biggest Air Assault that Bryan had been a part of, and it took all of their helicopters, plus some borrowed from the navy to take everyone. Hueys, Super Pumas and Alouette IIIs alls spread out in to formation flying with the rising sun at their backs. Rooivalk attack helicopters were on the edges waiting to respond to any ground fire.

The force zoomed over the landscape with the city in the distance growing larger and larger, as they neared. Soon they were buzzing over the rooftops and Bryan could see the river with the palace on the other side as they approached.

The little alouettes zoomed ahead, to drop the Ricos off first. By the time Bryan’s helicopter reached he could see the small figures of the operators on the roof and balconies, kicking in doors and windows to make their breach of the building. Over to the side by the bridge, protesters here crowded in the streets and started running, as helicopters came in to land. Flash bang grenades were dropped on groups of people watching. The boomd made the crowds scatter. A door gunner fired a burst from his machinegun into a grassy patch neat the street and that was it for anyone who thought they might stick around to see what was happening.

Over on the south side of the palace, Latin helos were dropping off their men to storm the levels that had been assigned to them

The huey flew right over the roof, and then flared and started to land on a lawn on the front of the building. Bryan was out before the chopper hit the ground and immediately ran and hit the ground behind a low wall. Men were running this way and that, to whatever roles they had in the assault. Blocking positions were being taken around the perimeter of the building while one company started storming the loser floors of the palace. The battalion’s 80 mm mortars, as well as the assault company’s 60 mm mortars, were setting up near where he was as it had the best overall cover from the windows that overlooked. The Weapons company had been split up for different roles. The mortars were positioning in a central area, while the anti-tank, anti-air, and Browning machine guns were taking positions on the perimeter.

Because the perimeter had most of the battalion looking to repulse any attack, Lt. Col. had been focusing on coordinating what was going on there, while Bryan had the role of overseeing the assault company, from a bit of a distance though as not to step on the company commander’s toes. Every one took cover, and waited. No counter attack came. No shots could be heard from outside. After a while some of the braver civilians began gathering and watching again at a distance. No shots could be heard from inside the palace either. Bryan got on his radio and called the CO of the assault company. “What’s going on in there? I haven’t heard a shot?”

“Everyone is dropping their guns and surrendering sir, we’re actually running out of zip ties. I’ve sent a group of prisoners escorted by a squad outside.” The commander explained.

Bryan could see a large group of scolarians with their hands tied behind their backs coming out led by 12 CLI boys. Bryan headed over to them.

A sergeant called out, “Where do you want them sir?”

“Send them over there.” Bryan motioned. “hq company is over there and the S-2 is setting up shop, turn them over to him.”

“Roger sir.” The man turned to leave and then turned back, “Major Cayo! Where can I get more zip ties? The captain said we need to load up before we come back.”

“Same place sergeant, just ask the supply guys.” Bryan answered.

The Sergeant nodded and began heading over. Bryan grabbed a corporal from the squad and asked him to lead him into the building to where the captain was. He wanted to see what was going on. Bryan’s runner, Roman, followed him, ever at his side.

Inside nothing looked disturbed, the rooms were still being cleared as it was a huge palace, but other than that, there had been no fighting. The staff had been gathered in to a large room and made to sit on the floor after being patted down, and any security were being zip tied and sent outside. Bryan looked around for a bit and then asked the captain how everything was before leaving. As he was walking down a hallway with roman, a rico scout drinking some kind of liquor out of an expensive golden chalice spotted him and called out, “You Major Cayo?”

“Yes I am” Bryan answered.

“I’m here to tell you that buildings secured.” He informed Bryan between sips.

“Michael?” Bryan asked.

The operator smiled at that and told Bryan, “Follow me!”

Bryan and Roman followed the Rico Scout down some halls and up some stairs and then entered a room. Around it there was a team of Ricos all wearing decorative royal hats and robes and drinking out of fancy goblets and chalices. When Bryan entered they, all cheered.

One called out, “Ah a guest for the emperor! Come Major, you and your little friend deserve a drink to toast Michaels good health!”

A cup of brandy was thrust into Bryan and Roman’s hands. Bryan was confused for a second and then noticed a body lying in a puddle of blood on the floor. A Rico lifted up its head and used a gloved hand to move the mouth, “I welcome you major, into my imperial halls!”

Everyone laughed at this including Bryan. Bryan was elated to see Michael dead, “Did you guy get him?”

One of them replied, “Nah, we found him like this, one of his own offed him.”

Another Rico chimed in, “Yeah some mother fucker hacked him with a sword! A bunch of these prissy northern types were here claiming that they were on our sides, but we tied em up and threw them in with the other civies. We’ll turn them over to the Latins and let them sort everything out. I’m not catching a sword in my back!”

Bryan Raised his glass, “Gentlemen a toast, to the emperor, long may he reign!”

All the Ricos cheered and drank deep. Bryan gathered with them around the body and they all took a group photo, with one man holding up Michaels head like a deer. Bryan still smiling asked where they got the liquor. They told him and he selected a bottle of Champaign and Brandy and stashed them in his pack. He then told the Ricos, “Alright boys, I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d take off those clothes. I have to radio this in, and we need Latin officers to take over here and the Latins will throw a shit fit if they know you were wearing this stuff. However, I don’t care about the liquor, that’s all spoils of war! Roman, go grab a bottle real quick! Oh, and if we meet again back in Chaco, I want to get all of you a round for sharing this moment with me!”

The Ricos smiled and took off all the ceremonial clothing and putting it back where they found it. Bryan got on his personal radio and called the Latins that were in the palace and told them that the body had been found and told them where they were. He walked back outside whistling in a cheerful manner. He went over to his radioman and told him, broad cast this message over all frequencies, and don’t code it. I want everyone to hear this.

To the forces of Latium, New Edom, and Gran Chaco,

There has been no resistance in the city.

Scholarians at the palace have surrendered.

Michael is confirmed dead.

Maj. Cayo, XO 2nd Battalion CLI

by **New Edom** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 9:36 pm

The Ghantish Convoy

Rosa Sharon noticed how attentive Nathan was to Maria, and felt a bit sad. She was really feeling a mild jealousy, but Nathan's interests in public will always be for royals or higher aristocracy.

She was amused though by the courtly ladies fussing about their physical needs in the field. She again admired how Anastasia simpy took it and ran with it, as did Teraea. "Their Highnesses are quite right," she had offered softly. "One must deal with the realities of being in the field. We're lucky to have such measures."

The Ghantish troops were being pretty methodical about their toilet needs too dig holes, very pragmatic. The chaos of the convoys suggested that they might get lost or something. She did try to advise Nathan on this, but it was all so impromptu.

She did have news for him again after the toilet break.

"New Edomite troops have entered Castellum," she told the company in the truck proudly. "The 4th Marines along with Chacano CLI have arrived there. And apparently the usurper is dead. I'm not sure how yet."

Castellum

There was no apparent resistance following the shelling, and so Lucas rolled forward, his heart and mind exhilerated, but keenly reining himself in, and rumbled towards the bridge. He checked radio signals and reported to Colonel Zelek, and received the green light to advance. Nevertheless he was cautious in his thoughts and remained inside the compartment. Zelek's HQ confirmed that the Chacanos had seized the bridgeheads without resistance. However soon they were on visual: it was Chacano troops holding the bridge.

All shelling had ceased quickly, and friendly and welcoming Chacano troops waved them over the bridge and at last the New Edomite Marine Infantry entered the city. Lucas stood tall in the cupola and waved back. It was weird, they had been enemies last year, how war changes things he thought. The Damocleans were keen as mustard and ready for a real croc hunt but no real targets. The Chacanos were doing their best to control the civilian population and get them out of the way, but the Edomites were far better prepared for this.

Loudspeakers from the signals vehicles as well as smoke grenades were used to clear the streets, the ground and windows shaking as the vehicles arrived. LT-10 Phorusrhacos tanks, M20 Hamshers and M28 Vigilos rumbled forward and would spill out here and there to form checkpoints, Damocleans under their Edomite and Damocleans crouching or standing to cover as they leapfrogged forward to form up near the palace.

"Back up, clear the streets!" warned the Damocleans, menacing and stern. "It's for your own good."

"We're here to liberate you all from Michael's evil!" crowed one of the Damocleans in rough accented Greek. "Give us your wine and fruit and daughters in gratitude!"

"Give me a girl with bounteous buttocks who will offer them in gratitude!" cried another. "I will love her as long as I am here!"

They were like excited children; half the time they could not shut their mouths, but they intended to carry out their duties. "Enough with that," growled Sergeant Tosk of 1st Platoon. "Watch your sections." Lucas' troops paced forward watchfully moving along their designated streets with the vehicles rolling along in the middle.

Colonel Zelek radioed ahead and once the regiment had gone into the city went to meet with Major Bryan to offer an exchange of handshakes and bows and congratulations. While no one knew what the future held for relations between their nations, there was a growing respect between the two nations' armies. Pictures were taken of the greeting to be rushed ahead for the fame.

by **Republica De Gran Chaco** » Tue Mar 21, 2017 9:58 pm

Castellum, Latin

The Edomites had come across the bridge and the Chacano soldiers were ecstatic. Word had been spread at the death of Michael so everyone was in a joyous mood. They shouted things up at the Edomite APCs as they crossed like, “Welcome boys! You’re a bit late to the party, but it’s better late than ever!” “Glad to have you muchachos, even if you are just legs!”

Some of the soldiers threw thing up to the Edomites as they passed like “liberated” bottles of beer and packs of cigarettes, “You can have these boys, but the girls have already fallen in love with us!”

Bryan had come down from the palace with his battalion commander who had been joined by the regimental commander. He heard the yelling of the troops and the engines of the vehicles as the spread out and approached. The Colonel had brought a press team to take pictures of the meeting between the two commanders. The Edomite officers were approaching, and as a sign of respect, the colonel called the regimental and battalion officers and a squad from headquarters company, acting as an honor guard to attention. He then had them all present arms for the Edomite colonel to make his approach.

by **Rodarion** » Fri Mar 24, 2017 6:15 am

Chapel of the Immaculate Conception
Vatican, Fabria
Meeting of the Papal Continuing Committee

The response to the excommunication had been as suspected, shock and awe. Shock at the suddenness, awe at the boldness. His Holiness didn’t accept the feeling of awe among the laypeople or the monarchs and elites, it was irrelevant, all that mattered was Michael being torn down low by the might of the Holy Mother Church. His actions, however had not delivered him new friends within the walls of Saint Peter’s Basilica, to many moderates his actions had grossly politicised the Church, but also brought greater opposition and scepticism of the Papacy.

Under intense scrutiny from liberal Cardinals, the Holy Father was swift to call a session of the Papal Continuing Committee, this was the apex of the Ecclesiastical State, its members including all officers of the Fabrian Magisterium, both the Secretaries, Prefects and Undersecretaries, the supreme command of the Papal Armed Forces and 13 Cardinals and laypeople, including judges, business people and the heads of the country’s most powerful families.

Of the 6 Cardinals not attached to the Magisterium, two were liberal – the Pope wanted to fill all spots of the Continuing Committee with likeminded “populists” and traditionalists, but naturally he was persuaded not to by Bishop Antonius Marcellus Varro, a Latin and one of the Pope’s closest allies and the only non-Rodarian on the Committee.

The Chapel of the Immaculate Conception is no such thing, nor was it when it was built. Ordered by Pope John XII in 2006, it was completed in 2009 as a meeting place for the PCC, which was formerly the Sistine Chapel, but concerns over wear and tear pushed them out.

The chapel itself was relatively large, rectangular, at the far end stood a colossal statue of the Virgin Mary of pure gold. Her arms outstretched, eager to embrace mankind. At the feet of the statue was an altar, donned with flowers and candles and the bible of Pope Alexander III, dated 1141.

Before the statue was a rectangular steel table, at the far end sat the Holy Father, on both sides sat 19, at the far end opposite the Holy Father sat the Undersecretary of State – the unofficial head of government, though in reality the Cardinal Secretary of State held that title.

Running down the centre of the steel table were silver coloured ceramic pictures of water, separating the groups of glass and pictures were crosses of coal coloured metal. This room was in a sense a chapel of power in the 21st century. The roof of the chapel was bare, sand coloured brick, hanging down were lengthy bar lights, to the side the coving above the floor was lined with continuous blue LED lights, emblazing the white tiled marble floor with a blue hue. And opposite the statue were large metallic ancient Roman style doors, beset on either side by two guards of the Papacy, their halberds standing in exact identical angles.

The Pope sat in his chair, surveying the committee, his demeanour was one of positivity and calmness, a major change since the furious meeting before the excommunication letter was released some days before.
“I have called this meeting to address concerns raised by brothers, I still find myself beset with questions as to why we excommunicated the pretender in Latium. In truth, as the Holy Father, as the Vicar of Christ I need not explain myself to all under the Sun, but for the need of unity within these walls, I have decided to address… the questioners” he said, his eyebrows raised to show trustworthiness and happiness.

His most senior allies, the Cardinal Secretary of State, the Cardinal Secretary of Security and Cardinal Secretary of the Economy all rolled their eyes and sighed at the need, they knew why and they assisted the Holy Father in making it happen, but again they had to tread over well-trodden ground.

“Michael is a rotten man, a man without morals, virtues or principles. He is a man outside the redemption or salvation of Christ, a man in worship of himself, a man in service to himself. I knew this when I met him, I knew this when I met his father, because he too was a man somewhat without virtue or principle.

“And I ask you, do you want such a decrepit sitting on the Latin throne? Do you want someone so devoid of faith in Christ on such a sacred throne? Do you believe God would wish such a being heading one of his greatest kingdoms? I do not believe so.

“The leaders and high born of Latium serve the throne and their first thoughts are the throne, not the faith and not God. It befalls to us as the custodians, wardens and guardians of the Gospel, as the Universal Church of Christ to serve him and the faith. To protect his heavenly name and the faith, to serve at his divine word and to do all possible to protect the faithful.

“If that meant denying him the throne by casting him out of the Faith, if that meant exiling him from the sacraments and exiling him from Christendom, then so be it. My duty is to the Lord in heaven. That means there can be no distinction between spiritual and temporal, there cannot be a distinction between matters of the politic or the faith, they are one in the same.

“We committed to this in the name of Christ, in the service of Christ and in the protection of Christ” the Pope finished, his eyes moving between the two liberal cardinals seated down the opposite end of the table.

“What people are asking your Holiness is why now? Why Michael?” Cardinal Lucca Caio Ventillio enquired from the far end of the metallic monolith of a table.

“Why now?” the Pope asked back.

“Yes Holy Father” Ventillio replied sternly.

“Because it is opportune, he was close to defeat, we ensure his defeat by exiling him from the faith. Our Latin kin are strong in their dedications to God, knowing that their usurper Emperor is godless is enough to
galvanise fury against him. Through that we know have debt owed by Constantine” the Pope smiled.

“A debt he must repay” Cardinal Marco Furio Camillo, the Pope’s right hand man and current Cardinal Secretary of State, uttered. Camillo was a vicious political operator, leaving many to suspect he drove for the Cardinalate not to serve Christ but to hold power in his hands.

“As we see now, the streets of Castellum are alive with the fury of the faithful, this is our doing” he continued.

“Is he cooperative?” the Undersecretary of State, Giacomo Amato enquired. Amato, an aged librarian looking man was the Pope’s leading civil servant, the Undersecretary of State effectively ran the secular affairs of the Church-state, subordinate to Cardinal Camillo however. The Pope looked up at the ceiling, casting his mind back in what felt like an age, when he first met the younger Constantine.

“I remember the day I met him, his father was coming to visit, the first visitor I received after being seated upon the throne of Saint Peters. I remember noting a feeling of warmth from him, the complete opposite from his dubious father. Though, I believe there to be a naivety about him. That can be of use. He always seemed more engaged and eager to learn more than his father, especially when speaking to me or other Cardinals. I think he knows the power of the Church” the Pope explained.

“Not that we need his understanding, we only need look at his brigand of a brother to see the power of the Church, we can bring an end to his reign with just one sheet of paper” Camillo spat.

“The people on the streets of Castellum must be our soldiers in the cause for a just Christendom. They must be the movers and shakers of the struggles to come, if we are to pull mankind back from the abyss, we must be strong.

“How is it to be repaid Holy Father?” Ventillio asked, shuffling in his seat.

“Our goal, is simple. Our goal is keep mankind from the brink and return all to the light of Christ through virtue, principle and piety. If that means exerting influence over governments then that is what must be done” the
Pope explained, shifting his gaze to Camillo.

“We want the Archbishop of Castellum to sit in the Latin government, permanently. We want him to hold their ministry of public morality – who better than the country’s leading cleric? And through him, Holy Mother Church has direct access to Constantine” Camillo explained.

“What if he says no?” Amato asked, physically concerned at the prospect.

“Then we’ll tear him down like we did his brother” Camillo replied softly.

“May I remind this committee, with respect Holy Father, the Archbishop is missing” Cardinal Manio Iuventio Bruto, the Cardinal Secretary of the Economy interjected. His thick rimmed glasses and blading hair made him the perfect image of a civil servant.

“If he is found dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. If he’s dead, which we pray he is not, he will be replaced. Should he be alive, we cannot expect him to offer his life for the cause indefinitely, we’ll remove him and offer him a home here in the Vatican as Archbishop Emeritus and replace him still” Camillo continued, the Pope nodding.

“With who?” Ventillo asked.

“That is to be discussed at a later date” the Pope replied, even though in truth, he was fully aware of who he wanted to sit in Castellum.

As the discussion continued, the two metal doors swung open, pushed by two guards on the otherside. Passing through was a priest, his black cassock wafting with each stride, as he passed through the doorway, the two guardsmen in the room snapped to attention. The priest pressed on walking directly towards the Pope. Bowing beside him, he passed him a note. The pope’s eyes perused the lines and nodded, looking up at his council he smiled.

“The forces of our dear Prince approach Castellum, may God offer them swift victory. But most importantly, we must do all we can to assert our role as the guardians of the people of Castellum, especially those who marched on the Basilica in fury of the usurpers assault upon our faith and church.” the Pope bellowed.

“God be with them” the council chanted in unison. As they did, the Pope waved over another priest to the side, sitting in the wall mounted benches that straddle the opposing walls of the chapel.

“Brothers, this is Father Hadrian Sepius, a dear servant in Castellum” he stood and placed his hand on the priest’s left shoulder, his white sleeve contrasting with the black cassock.

“He is to be our man of the people” the Pope declared.

“I serve at your pleasure holy father” the young priest replied, straight faced.

“Explain to the council, your duty” the Pope demanded.

“I am to address the proud people of Castellum who stormed the Basilica in search of the Archbishop, to rally them to our cause of a just and pious world. They are to be our foot soldiers in the war against godlessness.

“I will work to establish a branch of the Guardians of Christ Eternal, which will use the momentum of the actions in Castellum to propel the people of Latium to demanding a pious government and a moral and just society”
the priest explained with joy permeating from his smile.

“I will do so with the vigour and determination demanded of me by Christ” he continued.

“He will do so with the full support of Mother Church” Cardinal Camillo beamed.

“Thank you my son, go now and build heaven an army of peace” the Pope patted him on the back.

“Holy Father, your eminences” the priest bowed and strode off, joined by the priest who delivered the message. The Pope straightened his robes and returned to his seat, the rest of the council muttered positively about the move, except for the liberals at the far end.

“Forgive me Holy Father, but we were not consulted on this move” Cardinal Enrico Ficano bellowed. Ficano was Ventillio’s superior, both in age, stature and respect. Pope Julius wanted to remove him upon securing the throne, but to do so would split the church, so he opted to suffer him, at least with respect.

“There was no need Cardinal Ficano, this decision was mine and mine alone. I took advice from the Secretary of State, the Undersecretary of State and the Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Ecclesiastical Movements, I am aware of the dangers, but the benefits outweigh the negatives” the Pope explained, surprisingly without anger, malice or frustration; as he would with Ventillio.

“That is your prerogative Holy Father, but I must stress that our actions have other states concerned, do we not risk alienating the Church?” Ficano enquired.

“No Cardinal Ficano, we use the situation in Latium, to save it and its proud Catholic people from the damnation of rule by the godless and self-worshiping high born, I do not care of the opinion of those outside Christendom, nor should you” the Pope pointed.

“That will do for today, we will meet tomorrow should there be more doubt of our actions, which I hope was allayed with today’s meeting” the Pope smiled, rising to his feet, the rest of the committee swiftly followed, bowing their heads to the pontiff.

Custodes de Aeterna Christi

The Guardians of Christ Eternal was established by Cardinal Romulus Terini in 1966 as a means of opposing secularisation, atheism and socialism within the Ecclesiastical State. To many the Guardians were nothing more than street thugs who violently attacked anyone who went against Church doctrine or the political will of the Papacy. Yet, it has since evolved into a colossal social movement, dedicated to ensuring continued love for Christ and Mary, the enforcement of Catholic principles, values and the commandments.

Today, the Guardians of Christ Eternal stand as the largest social movement and pressure group in the Ecclesiastical State, raising awareness of horrid behaviour, statements and actions by high born across Christendom. It promotes charity, frugality and total obedience to the gospel and to the Vatican, such a movement in Latium, would surely present a mirror for Constantine – be as Michael was and suffer the consequences, or be as demanded by Christ and view your soul in the mirror as it is.

The Guardians of Christ Eternal would be the Pope’s leverage over Constantine, to ensure he got repaid for his services against Michael.

by **Lacus Magni** » Fri Mar 24, 2017 9:25 am

Leo
Castellum

The Prince had been nearing on the city’s outer limits when he heard word that the joint Latin-Chacano air assault on the palace had begun. He expected word to come through any minute that his cousin, Michael, had been captured by Latin or allied forces and the usurper would soon be turned over to his custody so that he could face his charges. And then, he finally heard the news.

“Your Highness,” Legate Fontieus began speaking in a somber tone. “The Palatine is secured by ours and Chacano support. The usurper’s dead.”

“Dead?” Prince Leo said confused before he closed his eyes with a deep breath. “In the fighting?”

“Negative, sir. Betrayed by his own it seems,” Fontieus replied to Leo as his army’s armored units began to push forward through the city along with Leo’s infantry units and personal guard.

Travelling from the east, Prince Leo first entered Latium’s capital from the borough Valle Aurelia, coming across next to no resistance from any defenders in the area. As he moved unmolested through the eastern boroughs and districts, his forces would work to accept the surrender of the usurper’s forces as they came across them. These forces were largely located along major road intersections closer to the inner districts however. But while some of his soldiers remained along areas of the city as they dealt with those who surrendered and prisoners, Leo and a sizeable detachment of infantry, in transport trucks, APCs or other personnel carriers, pressed forward towards the historic City of Castellum and county Palatine at the very center of the city.

As his army progressed through the city, units would break away and disembark to attend to civilians or arrest surrendering soldiers, though they were sure that some would simply drop their weapons and flee into crowds before they arrived. Though now, Leo had received word that the bridge nearest the Palace of Augustus and the Palatine Hill was now under control of Chacano and Latin forces, and that was his chief priority at this stage. Returning to the Palace of Augustus was not only an emphatic statement of the true beginning of Constantine’s reign, but a more personal return to a place he had called home.

At the bridge nearest to the Palatine Hill, Leo and his caravan of soldiers stopped at the checkpoint manned by a joint allied unit. Leo was quickly identified and was given passage towards the Palace. “Sir, we’ve taken the defenses of the east, and are continuing to the south,” Legate Fontieus said to Leo.

“Let’s continue on the south and move Iccius to the north and west,” Leo stated in reply before Fontieus continue speaking.

“The Emperor and the Master of Soldiers, also, would wish for you to reach out and begin coordinating a transfer of positions under Edomite control to native forces. As well theirs and Chacano withdrawal,” the Legate added before Leo’s car came to a stop at the base of the Palatine Hill.

Outside the of the palace’s main gate at the base of the Palatine Hill, a Latin officer was waiting for the Prince’s arrival. When the car stopped for the last time, he opened the door for Leo. “Your Highness,” the officer said to Leo with a salute. “Captain Jordan Aponius, I was part of the joint assault on the palace. We have Colonel Zelek of the Edomite Fourth Marine Infantry Regiment and Major Bryan of Chacano forces just over here. Your Legate said you wished to meet with them.”

“Aye, Captain,” Leo winced a smile, taking a good look at the doors of the palace. “And Prince Michael?

Captain Aponius paused before speaking hesitantly, walking along with Prince Leo, his Legate and member of his personal guard. “Dead, your Highness. Killed by his own guard before we’d arrived. We took many of the remaining soldiers and guards from the palace as prisoner. Including a number of high profile ones, we’ve seen to set them aside as instructed.”

“Of course,” Leo nodded, shifting a glance towards Legate Fontieus. “Did they survive?”

“Aye, your Highness,” the Captain said, following after Leo as he and Legate Fontieus approached the main gathering outside and around the gates to the palace where Colonel Zelek and Major Bryan had been waiting for him. “Just over here, your Highness.”

“When we’re through, I’d like to see the man responsible...and Prince Michael’s body,” Leo said to Captain Aponius, who appeared confused by the request.

“I uh...of course, Your Highness,” he muttered. “I’ll see to it at once.”

As soon as the the officer left them, the Prince turned to his legate. “I’ll inform the Emperor myself. And see to what we discussed of the Emperor’s request with allied commanders on my behalf.”

“Sir, should we release a statement? Of the Prince’s death,” Legate Fontieus asked Leo, noticing his mind had been elsewhere since he first told the Prince of the news. Leo nodded in approval to his Legate with a sigh before he made contact with the allied commanders for what would likely be the first of many photo ops of the day and coming weeks.

“Colonel...Major,” Prince Leo said to them both when he was finally face to face with some of the allied leaders in the area. “A pleasure to finally meet in person.”

Home|Latium|Belisaria|Politics|World News|Business|Science|Sport|Arts|Health|Opinion

Forces of Emperor Constantine Enter Castellum; Prince Michael Announced Dead
7 December 2017

Castellum ab Alba: This morning, Imperial and allied forces have entered Castellum and have accepted the surrender of the remaining forces of those loyal to the claim of Prince Michael. However, after a brief raid on the Palace of Augustus earlier this morning, rumors had begun to spread regarding the possible capture of Prince Michael. These rumors are false, after an official statement from Latin Armed Forces in Castellum made by a spokesman for Prince Leo.

“This morning, Latin and Chacano forces conducted a raid to secure the Palace of Augustus. All individuals within the palace, including those that had been previously pledged their support to Prince Michael, have surrendered themselves without bloodshed. During this time, the special forces discovered Prince Michael’s body. His cause of death is yet to be determined,” said spokesman Centurion John Dellius of the Latin Armed Forces in a statement issued to the Latin media. The RAL and other local news sources have yet been able to obtain further information regarding the death of Prince Michael.

Thus far, Latin and allied forces have been able to secure nearly all districts or boroughs within the capital region. In another statement, Centurion Dellius said that they are working with local police to accept transfer of current military postings within the city limits “in order for as quick a return to normalcy as possible.” It is reported that Emperor Constantine has already departed Adrianople and will arrive to the city shortly. Imperial Offices, local police and Latin armed forces are asking citizens and residents of Castellum to remain in their homes and to contact their local police or fire department if they require aid. Additional support to local police will be provided by Latin forces in the area.

Other Headlines:
Crowds, which had gathered in protest of Archbishop's disappearance, begin to dissipate following news of Archbishop Otovos' survival and rescue from the Palace of Augustus during allied special forces operation.
Dowager Duchess of Vindóbona and The Duke of Lomvardía among those discovered to be dead during the special forces operation at the Palace of Augustus. Reports suggest they had been dead prior to the event.

by **New Edom** » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:07 pm

Castellum

The New Edomites had had no idea what the Chacano soldiers were saying for the most part, since they only knew a few phrases in the Ayaaca tongues which were mostly related to their blood chit info. Some knew more. Lucas knew enough to be grimly amused by the implications of the soldiers but he pretended not to; there were some things an officer must not hear after all. The Damocleans made friendly gestures in response to getting the beer.

"Hey, Muchacho!" they yelled back. "We thank you for the beautiful beer! We are here, the cavalry is here to relieve you poor boots!"

"Marines, Marines!" shouted one muscular sergeant as he stood tall in his M20 APC, shaking a thick fist in the air. "The 4th forever!"

"Boys, put that beer in the coolers. I get even a hint of beer breath, there will be boots up the ass," growled the CSM over the radio. "You watch your corners and your places."

"Oh, but Sarn't Major..." whined one of the drivers.

"Shut it, Ajax," snapped the senior NCO. "Stop playing with yourself and keep driving straight."

Arriving at the Palace, they had been received with a full honour, and startled, Zelek quickly ralled and ordered a remarkable gesture. "Captain Lucas, have your men present arms as well."

This was responded to quickly, with admiration for the Chacano gesture of respect, and the barrels of vehicles were raised in salute as the New Edomite dismounted marines in their battle dress brought their dusty heels together and snapped to, feet stamping down and arms presented.

Following this, Zelek went forward to greet the Chacano major. "It's an honour to meet you. Adam Zelek," he said warmly both bowing and shaking hands Ayaca style. "Your boys were real swinging dicks out there. Glad we could make ti to the show."

After sharing intelligence, some photos and comraderie, the Latin general arrived, and Zelek saluted him and waited first for Bryan to share information with him, and followed with his own words of congratulation and explanation fo the situation.

"We will then be relieved of our zones of control when your people are ready and start heading for Ravenna, when you are sure this is all over and all of MIchael's former forces have surrendered, affirmed Zelek.

Also present was Ambassador Randronoth, who arrived in uniform to congratulate the forces and Prince Leo for the capture of the city. He also wanted to formally turn the Ghantish embassy over to Emperor Nathan when he arrived.

by **Tericio** » Sat Mar 25, 2017 2:09 pm

ignore

by **The IASM** » Sun Mar 26, 2017 5:31 pm

Palace of Augustus
Castellum ab Alba
Latium
Acheron

SHIJIN

Shijin’s night was an unpleasant one, as she barely slept and when she did it seemed her more uncomfortable thoughts began to leak through her mental cracks. She felt like she was burning up inside, like a fire was raging inside her. There was always that doubt she had about her choice to stay, it lingers mentally. She suspected Michael’s demise would come soon and yet she still decided to stay. Perhaps it was vanity which led her to do so, a desire to control a man of power and to shape the various legacies outside of Akai. The idea of being in Lilisi’s shadow infuriated her more than most thoughts of hers did.

Yet during the day, it was the chaos which she found herself morbidly attracted to. First the protests which flared up, she watched as the Scholarians rearrange and abandon the palace and as the sounds of war drew ever closer. She saw Michael and Antonia panicking to one another, hearing their conversations as they tried to gather everything they needed to flee.
He rejected the CPO’s offer didn’t he… well this was fun, I wonder whether it was him alone or that slut telling him what to do she thought as she wore today something more practical than her Akai evening dress. It was this time just a simple black cheongsam, short as she liked it to be.

It was then after a certain point as she began to contemplate going to the embassy, trying to organise someway to ensure that she did not end up in the hands of a raving mob or some brutish soldier although one was preferable to the other. He will send some force to secure me. He has too much pride, too much of a reputation to uphold. And he is not cold enough to let me die… is he? She tried to raise up communications with the Akai ambassador Lord Fengge Majiyaweili on her phone.

She waited a few moments as she patrolled up and down a length of palace corridor, listening to the archaic and stereotypical Akai classical music as she waited to be connected to Amb “This is Shijin, would it be possible to extract me from the Palace of Augustus,” she asked with a sense of curiosity in her voice.

“This will not be especially be practical given the circumstances, I imagine once the city is secured by the New Edomites, his perfection wishes to declare his support for Emperor Constantine the twentieth,” Fengge replied in a voice so dry, it made the Aharan deserts look wet. Fengge was from Xuan, from the Maijiyaweili family, one whose fame derived from their successes advising the Kings and Emperors of Oato. Considered one of the more prominent pragmatist, their founder Lord Ling Maijiyaweili who advocated for a monarch who was most ruthless and yet wise in their manner of ruling so that they may continue to do so. They themselves also seemed to adopt this strategy by ensuring that they ways remained on the winning side of whatever conflict they were in.

“So you are just going to leave me here at the whims of whoever may take me?” she inquired incredulously as she paused to look out of one of the windows.

“It is His Perfection’s wishes that you learn the consequences of your actions,” Fengge replied, his voice like a text to speech device which lacked any pretence of personality. “He will of course make some overtures to ensure your survival but unless you are able to find a way to get out safely you are on your own.” What followed was the dull drone of a dead line and the shrill shouts of a furious princess.

That ambitious little shit, she thought to herself as she audibly raged. I’ve gotta find Michael and warn him she thought realising now that a doomed prince was the closest thing she had for hope in this situation. It was then as she dashed down the corridors trying to find some avenue of escape. It was then where she heard a clash, gunshots - deafening in every sense. They were close far closer than the others. Either they have breached the palace or someone has betrayed Michael, I am not sure which is preferable. She was curious to a degree to learn where they came from but she was almost sure of the imprudence of it. Yet there might be some value in being proactive in my capture

So she advanced towards the gunshots, slowly with the assurance that someone was there. And were she to die, at least she would be a source of confusion to those who were to find her corpse. Regardless, she was more than certain that she at best would likely be a footnote in history. She entered a room nearby to the shooting, one that was unlocked and found something to take a seat on. And then she waited the inevitable.

And then it came swiftly as a squad of soldiers entered the room, their nationality was not much of a matter for Shijin who declared, in a tone which seemed to be a strange imitation of a desperate hostage: “Thank the heavens, that you are here to save me. I thought I’d die in this place trapped by him. Thank you. Thank you,” she continued as her face gave a sense of faux euphoria for her discoverers. She thought to herself in that briefest of moments, her mind thinking of an old proverb her mother used to tell her: Trial often exhibits truly wonderful results. And now Shijin hoped she was right.

by **Lacus Magni** » Sun Mar 26, 2017 7:23 pm

Leo
Throne Room
Palace of Augustus

“Sir...sir,” Leo heard a voice calling for him as he stared at his cousin’s throne. He noticed that Michael’s blood still stained the floors beneath it before looking over his shoulder at Legate Celus Fontieus. “Slayer’s on his way...and they wanted me to give you this,” the Legate held a sword in his hands as he approached Leo.

Leo recognized it from the hilt. Lokatz, he thought. “It’s not for me to handle,” Leo refused to accept the weapon. The Prince still faced the vacant throne and the stains of blood beneath it. “Put it on the table for now.”

The throne room was not quite as Leo remembered it, with the recent scars, stains, and blemishes all throughout the room. The last he saw it was the same as the first day he saw it - pristine, decorative, full of courtiers, politicians and his uncle Jason seated atop the throne. “You know the first time I was in this room,” Leo began to walk around the room, joined by Legate Fontieus, “I stood right here.” The Prince stopped at the back of the room against a wall of windows. “My mother stood right behind me, and my sisters were right here when my uncle walked in.”

“Well, this is my first time in palace. I’ll take your word that it’s much nicer” Legate Fontieus commented with a laugh as Leo continued to reminisce.

“I remember he wanted us to stand closer to the throne or the center of the room at first...to introduce us to the court I suppose. But the Empress wouldn't have it, so we stood in the back corner,” Leo stood still, observing the room from the view he had nearly twenty years ago. His smile faded. “I remember mother telling us that she wasn’t even sure if we’d be staying in Latium for long after we met the Empress. Constantine’s mother I mean...she never cared much for us. ‘Try not to be upset if we need to leave’ my mother told us that morning. But we never left.”

“His mother sounds like a piece of work if you ask me, sir,” Fontieus stated, drawing a laugh from Prince Leo. “But things could have been worse.”

“Aye, it could have,” Leo nodded from his position at the back of the room. “Did you look over the lists yet?”

“Aye, sir. There weren’t all that many left in the palace when it was taken but there were a number of high profile prisoners. Nobles mostly, and a few women Michael kept around - one of ‘em claiming to be an Akai Princess. Very little in the way of staff other than his small surrendering guard” Legate Fontieus gave Leo a quick rundown of some notable captures before moving onto the deaths. “We also found some...uhh bodies in the lower levels. We had someone identify them and I added them for you here.”

“Thank you,” Leo smiled politely, taking a brief review of the new additions. The most prominent of the names were the Dowager Duchess of Vindóbona, her son The Duke of Haenna, and General Jordan Caelius.

“You still believe it was only one man and not the Chacanos who killed him?” Legate Fontieus remained skeptical of the story of Michael’s demise. “We saw the body...he was shot.”

“...And had a gaping hole in his chest,” Leo replied thinking they had no reason to assume otherwise. In the taking of the city, the Chacanos and Edomites had been helpful and the Latins grateful for the assistance as they finished routing out any few remaining holdouts of Michael loyalists. Then the doors creaked open once more, resulting in silence. Through the double doors walked a man of brown hair and tired eyes with a worn military officer’s dress uniform. His hands were restrained behind his back and two guards following behind him. As they drew closer, Leo noticed blotched stains on the faded black jacket the man was wearing. Soon it was clear enough who it was - Adrian Ulpius.

“That’s unnecessary, please remove his restraints. That’ll be all,” Leo addressed Adrian’s escort. One of the guards looked puzzled at the request, but the other didn’t even bat an eye as he fulfilled the order. He addressed his legate, “Celus, a moment please.”

Legate Fontieus stared down Adrian while he walked past him and to the wide double doors. Adrian paid no mind to the Legate, only looked to the floor as he rubbed a hand over his other wrist. “I must admit I was surprised when I saw your names on my list of prisoners. I told them to offer you quarters befitting someone of your rank. I heard you refused,” Leo faced Adrian the moment the doors closed, leaving the two men alone in the room.

“It’s not right that I be given any special treatment, your Highness,” Adrian responded without a hint of emotion.

“How noble,” Leo said with a hint of sarcasm before continuing. “Though I’m even more surprised to see you standing here in front of me when I ask to see Michael’s killer. Tell me how and why you did it.”

“The how - I killed him with the sword over there, I don’t deny it,” Adrian picked his head up from his focus on the floor and looked to Leo when he said the words. “As for why, I suppose someone needed to do it and we both agree that it was well overdue. Constantine wouldn’t have it in him when the time came. So why not me?”

“Don’t play games. Not now, Adrian,” Leo walked closer now, stopping just in front of Adrian. “This is serious. Constantine will want to know why his brother is dead and the families of the people who Michael killed will want to know why he wasn’t able to face his crimes. I can’t help if you give these sort of answers.”

Adrian began to look uneasy, nervous even. He looked to the floor briefly, before taking a nervous breath and tracing his head towards the throne. “I know what you did for my sister...the night my uncle died. You saved her life and you saved her honor when the rest of us were being dragged away to somewhere safe. And you didn’t have to do that.”

“How is she?”

“Safe. She’s at home,” Leo replied.

Adrian nodded, though looked like he had a knot in his throat. “One day I was out seeing to some of the defenses near the Felixian wall. Out of the blue my men turned on me and I had to bribe them to not have my throat slit or worse and be dragged back to Michael. My mother and brother were in the palace and I wanted to get them back.”

The story seemed close enough to that of Strategos Iccius’ when he first told Leo he wished to defect and join his forces to Constantine’s. But he remained silent, almost feeling guilty for not putting the news of the death of Adrian's mother and brother at the hands of Michael as a possible reason that Adrian might have killed him. “By the time I got back to the palace we were too late. My mother was dead, and so was my brother George. I was angry, I wanted him dead. I wanted him to feel what I felt.”

“They said there were two dead bodies in the room when they found you,” Leo pulled out his list to find the name of the man, but before he could pull it out Adrian interrupted.

“The Councillor. Gavius. I didn’t mean to kill him,” Adrian sounded remorseful. “I just shot at the first thing I saw. I didn’t even know who it was until I heard Michael laughing, so I shot him too. I even let Michael crawl up the steps one last time before I drove that sword into his heart. Then I sat the throne and waited.”

“Waited for what, to be Emperor?” Leo felt some level of sympathy for Adrian’s predicament. He had even thought of wanting to kill Michael himself on more than one occasion since they were forced to flee from the capital.

“I don’t know. But I was done fighting, so I sat down because I’ve always wondered what it felt like to look at the room from that chair,” Adrian looked past Leo and towards the throne. “You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered the same of that chair over there or that monstrosity of a chair in Ghant.”

Leo took a quick look at the Latin throne, though returned his focus to Adrian. “That doesn’t matter.”

“So you have thought about then?” Adrian pressed the question again with a smirk.

“I said it doesn't matter,” Leo said quickly. “Was there anything else that happened? Anything I should have to tell the Emperor of this?”

Adrian remained silent for a time. “No, nothing else. I admit to killing him and I’ll accept the consequences.”

“Right,” Leo nodded his head. He didn’t fully believe that was the whole story, but it was enough for now. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I can’t imagine it’s good business to punish people who kill your enemies. I’d like to offer you more suitable quarters until the Emperor arrives and he decides what’s to be done. He'll be here soon, so it won't be long off. Think hard on what you want to say to him.”

“That’s not necessary,” Adrian countered. “I’ll stay with my men.”

“You’re my prisoner, you don’t have a choice,” Leo reminded him. He walked around Adrian and opened the door for the guards. “Take His Grace to a room in the apartments. Fontieus, you go with them and put some guards on his room until the Emperor arrives.”

“This way, sir,” a guard said to Adrian after they entered the room to usher him out.

“Adrian,” Leo said just before they left the room. “I’m sorry for your losses.” Adrian gave a slight nod of his head before the he was gone and the doors were closed behind him.

Leo was left alone in the throne room once more. He began to approach the end of the room, where a small table had been placed, now with the Claudii ancestral sword resting on it, and just to his side was the Latin throne itself. The Prince took a long stare at the throne and closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, he simply shook his head and left the room to take care of his next order of business.

by **Rodarion** » Mon Mar 27, 2017 5:45 am

Veritas, the Ecclesiastical State’s sole television channel had been set up in 1915 initially as the sole radio station, since then, with the advent of new technologies swiftly emerged as a behemoth of modern telecommunications. As of 2017, it had grown to encompass television, radio, smartphone apps, printed publications, microblogs, interactive websites and film studios. Virtually every piece of television produced in the Ecclesiastical State was done so under Veritas, it was the voice of the Vatican and the sole voice the citizens were required or permitted to hear.

Since 1981, Veritas had developed a system that allowed broadcasts from the Vatican to interrupt every channel in the Ecclesiastical State, including the Veritas channel in other states within Christendom. For the faithful outside the Ecclesiastical State, Veritas offered extensive programming to meet their needs; bible reading programmes, documentaries on the Church and faith, chat shows, support phone-in shows, to allow people to ask questions about their faith, live showings of events in the holy state and public denunciations of the most serious “apostates”. But today, like so many prior, Veritas would offer the world, a televised address by Pope Julius IV.

Across the Ecclesiastical State, Latium, Vannois, Tericio and others, Catholics if they were watching Veritas were to be greeted by the seal of the Papacy and the recorded sounds of church bells ringing. With subtitles below the banner to address the linguistic variety of Christendom, all would hear the Pope’s words.

A solemn voice broke the sound of bells, “this is an address by his Holiness Pope Julius IV, the Bishop of Fabria and Vicar of Christ” it sounded in Rodarian. The seal continued to hover in the centre of the screen before cutting to the disarming face of the Pope.

“Dear brothers and sisters, I speak to you today in wake of the news that the usurper in Latium has been pronounced dead and Prince Constantine may return to his throne in peace.

“Today, I speak to all Latins, not as your Holy Father, but as a man of peace, love and fraternity. You have faced great trials in light of this crisis, you have been pitted against one another, you have been divided, but know that your Prince, the rightful heir will bring peace and harmony to your homes, your streets and your great nation. Know that you will come together, for God wills it of his children. Know that you will overcome this, stronger than before.

“Know that your Prince Constantine is blessed, know that his has the full support of your Mother Church and myself. I do not ask for anything to be forgotten, but I ask for you to look upon each other and offer forgiveness, you may have been divided, but you are not separated. Forgive one another, and re-embrace one another as brother and sister, rebuild the bonds of citizenship and fellowship again and do so with a faithful gaze upon the horizon of the future.

“I know many have question the Mother Church’s decision to excommunicate Prince Michael, but with news that he harmed and imprisoned Archbishop Otovos, our concerns were valid. We did so, out of dedication to Papal Law and the belief that no man, low or high born can consider themselves beyond the station that the Lord above set them, in that no man may consider himself immune to the sacred judgement of the Lord for his actions, no matter his convictions or cause.

“I can tell you, that we, here in the halls of Saint Peter’s are relieved and thankful that the Archbishop is safe, we shall thank God for his merciful blessing of his safe return, just as we thank God almighty for the swift conclusion of this tragic crisis that gripped your noble nation.

“Look to John 6:37, All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. Never cast out your neighbour, family member or any other, even if he stands opposite you in all situation, never cast them out, for all divisions can be healed, for all transgressions can be forgiven.

“And Galatians 3:28, There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. We are all one, we are all equal before Christ, both high born and low born, we are all one within him and for that we must stand together, shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart. So I say, come together kind and noble people of Latium, hold steady, hold strong as your Emperor leads you into the future.

“But do so knowing this, the Mother Church stands with you, hand in hand, we will watch over you, we will protect you, we will guide you to salvation, we will preserve you and together, people and Church, we can build a Christendom worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven.

“God bless you, God bless all Christendom and God bless Emperor Constantine XX, Christus Aeterna” the Pope smiled as the screen cut to sweeping view of the Vatican with triumphal music bellowing out, hopefully the message would be well received – in truth it had to be, especially by the ordinary folk of Latium.

To: Emperor Constantine XX
From: Office of the Supreme Pontiff
Cc:
Subject: Blessings and the safe return of Archbishop Otovos
Encryption: Highest

My dearest Emperor,

I write this to you as a man in awe and happiness of your success. To tell you that I prayed many a day and night for a swift conclusion to the crisis in Latium would be an understatement, but the truth. I prayed to the Lord above for your safety and swift victory over the usurper who has caused such damage and division to God's greatest kingdom. Know that I and all Cardinals of the Church stand in utter ecstasy at your success in defeating your brother and bringing peace back to Latium once again and know that we stand behind you.

I would like to inform you that I have instructed all dioceses in Latium to begin bringing the faithful together again, I do so on your behalf, for I believe that it is vital that the noble people of Latium overcome the division and hostility caused by Prince Michael as soon as possible, not only for their sake, but to enable a complete rally of the nation around your reign. I will also be producing a document that will be publish, openly expressing the Church's blessings upon you as Emperor of your great nation.

I would also like to thank you and your forces for the safe rescue of brother Archbishop Otovos, he is a personal friend of mine and many upon the Papal Continuing Committee and his safe rescue further fuels our euphoria in Fabria. I would ask, humbly my Emperor, that he be flown to Fabria as soon as possible, to receive medical treatment from the Vatican's Sanatorium of Santa Vittoria, I ask this for the reason of such a act making me more comfortable and peaceful knowing that the Archbishop is safe in our own care.

I also offer my condolences for the death of your brother, despite the acrimony, it is never acceptable to lose a family member, let alone a sibling. And know that I speak truths, when I say that I pray for him and you. But I also pray for you to succeed, as Emperor of God's greatest kingdom and please remember, should you require counsel be it political, spiritual or personal, you are free to contact me personally and I would be humbled and pleasured to offer you such things.

I thank you for your time my Emperor, I also thank you for your consideration of our request regarding Archbishop Otovos.

Many blessings and wishes,

Your Holy Father,
Pope Julius IV

by **New Edom** » Mon Mar 27, 2017 6:40 am

Castellum

And then it came swiftly as a squad of soldiers entered the room, their nationality was not much of a matter for Shijin who declared, in a tone which seemed to be a strange imitation of a desperate hostage: “Thank the heavens, that you are here to save me. I thought I’d die in this place trapped by him. Thank you. Thank you,” she continued as her face gave a sense of faux euphoria for her discoverers. She thought to herself in that briefest of moments, her mind thinking of an old proverb her mother used to tell her: Trial often exhibits truly wonderful results. And now Shijin hoped she was right.

"Looks like we've found us a real Akai lady, boys!" cried one of the Damocleans. Sweaty grubby brown skinned soldiers in battle dress tromped in heavily, eyes eager and alert, their rifles trained around the room until it was clear it was secure. In fact finding this fine lady sitting so primly took them aback enough that they almost seemed confused.

"She's pretty as a doll," commented another.

"Never fear, dear lady, you are rescued from the tyrant! Doesn't sound like she's one of the tyrant's cronies, boys," said a corporal. "Uh, Your Honour, we've got some Akai lady here." the Damoclean marine corporal said with satisfaction, "Lady, you are to wait here for our officer."

tCaptain Joseph Lucas came in and seeing her, glanced at a laminated card he was holding and then slipped it away. "Princess Shiin? The Ditor Hulang informed us you were here and we prioritized looking for you." This was not entirely honest--the priority had been securing the city and Shijin was entirely incidental. As Admiral Amalek had put it "She is the spice to the city's lamb." Nevertheless commissioned officers had been given laminated pictures of her.

However the Foreign Ministry had pressed upon the Defense Ministry the importance of a film crew capturing her being brought aboard a CM-7 transport to be brought to Ravenna, from whence she could be safely taken to the Akai fleet or given safe transport back home. If she preferred to go to her embassy this was of course to be permitted, but the New Edomites strongly discouraged this. Ambassador Randronoth pointed out to her that the city had been very recently captured and that a military transport to Ravenna would be the most efficient way.

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 9:08 pm

“Festina Lente Part II”
South of Cularo, Latium
(Co-written with Lacus Magni and Leasath)

It was only a few hours ago that the Ghantish-Vannoisian convoy passed through the city of Vindóbona along their southward highway travels. Moving around the city was hardly any more difficult than the rest of the journey thus far; however, the group was radioed by local police when they drew near enough to the city. Thankfully the city had already fallen within the sphere of Emperor Constantine as local leaders broke their neutrality by pledging their loyalty to Constantine’s cause just around the time Prince Leo began his final moves toward Ravenna. Due to this, the convoy was given leave to continue their travels south with the notice Emperor Constantine’s army had been in pursuit of the remaining few soldiers left to Michael’s cause.

The presence of the Latin military began to become more apparent as they closed on Vindóbona and pushed further south towards the highway junction at Cularo. It was near Cularo that more warnings were given of the likelihood of running into hostile forces. Though high above the ground, military aircraft were moving through the skies. Everything from fighters to helicopters would have been above convoy, and in increasing numbers the further south they were, likely providing air cover support for Constantine’s forces and those allied to him.

The landscape shifted from the flat farmlands of Vindóbona and county Histria to a more hilly and steep geography as they neared Cularo. Almost halfway between Vindóbona and Cularo, the convoy was met by a scouting party from Constantine’s army. They exchanged the proper credentials and joined the Ghantish-Vannoisian convoy.

The scouts were escorted to the Ghantish Emperor’s tent, where his army had made camp. He was joined by his Great-Aunt Teresa and by Lords Tograma and Kedarra, in addition to lesser officers of their expeditionary force. Rosa Sharon and Maria of Latium were also present, as Nathan was loathe to deal with any Latins whilst Maria wasn’t in attendance, and Rosa for the sake of personal comfort.

Nathan was seated at a chair, his feet up on a small table and a cup of wine in his hand. When the Latin scouts were brought in by some guards, he nodded to them, and extended his hand towards some vacant chairs not too far away. “I take it Constantine isn’t too far away?” he asked the Latin scouting party. “He moves fast.”

“No, your Majesty...I mean not he’s not too far away. He flew part of the way I believe, so I imagine he’s rather eager to reach the capital. I wouldn’t be surprised if he in Colonia August by day’s end,” one of the Latin soldiers spoke up to represent the small team of ten men. The Latin soldier looked to a few of his companions and took a brief glance at Princess Maria before continuing. “We should tell you that we spotted some enemy movements just south of Cularo.”

“When did Constantine depart Adrianople?” the Emperor asked curiously, scratching the underside of his chin as he mulled his next question. “And I’ve received reports that Michael is dead...what word have you of this? These enemies you speak of south of here...I assume they either don’t know he’s dead or don’t know?”

The leader of the Latin soldiers looked to some of his own before answer. “A day or two ago. His Majesty was in Kallipolis a few hours ago was last we heard.”

“We’ve heard the reports as well, sir,” another soldier spoke up, speaking on the rumors of Prince Michael’s death. “But we haven’t heard confirmation from our commander yet. If you’d like I can try and make contact to see if there’s been any update.”

“Aye,” the leader of the Latin soldier’s added again. “If we’re unsure, you can bet the hostiles are as well.”

“What word do you have of my brother?” probed Nathan between drinks of wine. “Is he in Castellum?”

“He’s reached the city. Arrived from the east, Your Majesty,” the same Latin soldier responded. “But that’s all. Apologies sir, we were part of the legions nearest Kallipolis, so our information from there is more recent.”

The Emperor scratched his scalp and shifted his feet upon the table where they rested. “I see...and do your commanders expect a battle to take place in Castellum then?”

“I’d say that depends on if these rumors of the usurper’s death are true, your Majesty,” the Latin soldier speculated. “If I had to guess, it’d be short battle given how surrounded they are.”

“Well, dare I say I’m loathe to miss a battle,” the Emperor grimaced, casting gazes between the Latins. “How far away is Constantine? How long will it take for him to arrive at this location?”

“An hour or so out,” the Latin replied after taking a look at his watch.

Princess Maria of Latium sat in on the meeting, spectating from side. She rolled her eyes with crossed arms when Nathan made mention of being eager for a fight. She thought it was foolish. But the camp felt more tense than ever at this moment.

“...If only my brother had an hour to spare.” Nathan set his cup down and rubbed his mouth on his sleeve. “We will advance towards Castellum, and if necessary deal with these enemies you speak of. Naturally I will try to convince them to surrender, but should they not...then we will do unto them battle. I would encourage you to make contact with Constantine to inform him of my intentions.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” the Latin soldier stated. “I’ll make sure to relay your intentions to the Emperor.”

The Emperor nodded, and poured himself another cup. “Very good then, gentlemen. Thank you...you’re dismissed.”

The Latin soldiers saluted the Ghantish Emperor and then Princess Maria before leaving the tent. Maria remained among those in the Emperor’s tent, lingering around to see what, if anything, else would happen before moving along to find Anastasia and the other girls.

As the rest of those present shuffled off, leaving Nathan and Maria alone in his tent, he threw back another glass of wine and explained, “I will make a good faith effort to convince them to surrender. When I do that, I’d like you with me. Perhaps the sight of you will encourage them. It certainly has that effect on men, wouldn’t you say?” he teased her with a smile. “Myself especially.”

“Either that or all the wine,” Maria forced a smile. The Princess bit her tongue to keep from saying anything overly harsh to him. “But if you think it will make a difference, I’ll come along to help. Was there anything else?”

The Emperor laughed. “The wine you say, very funny. It does help, you know...dealing with the pressure...the stress. I remember all too well when you came to my wedding with that...ducal heir or whatever he was. That made me want to get drunk, much to Sophia’s chagrin.”

“Only for a little while, then it causes more problems than it solves. Father drank more before Marsella, it wasn’t always nice to see,” Maria didn’t appear as amused by the discussion as Nathan. She almost looked like she was hoping to leave the tent, not even acknowledging the comments about Nathan’s wedding and especially the one about her own date to the festivities.

“Your father drank because he was depressed,” Nathan pointed out. “He suffered a great deal, that much I know. We will try to do right by him and honor his legacy when we reach Castellum.” The Emperor set his cup down and waved his hand. “You should go and prepare yourself for what’s to come.”

“That doesn’t make what I said any different,” Maria stated before walking out of the tent without giving him a chance to get the last word. Outside the tent, her Praetorian guard detail waited for her, following as she walked through the camp. She finally stopped once she was some distance from Nathan’s tent and close enough to her own, hoping she could be alone for even a moment.

“Could you give me a moment,” she ordered her guards to leave her for now. Even though the Latin Princess couldn’t block out all the sounds and noises of the camp, it was peaceful, if only for a moment, to just be alone with her thoughts.

After Maria had gone, the Emperor gathered with his commanders and they issued orders to advance in a combat formation in the direction of Castellum, where enemies were said to be on the road to. They gave specific orders for a messenger bearing a white flag to move towards any enemies that their scouts might identify, in an effort to treat. At least it would be a short battle, as Nathan only needed to wait for Constantine’s forces to arrive behind them should it come to blows with Michael’s force.

As Constantine’s scouting team in the Ghantish-Vannoisian camp had indicated, Michael’s force was indeed near Cularo. However as the convoy moved closer to the city, it became clear that the usurper’s advance forces were still north of the city nearest to the western highway junction coming from Kallipolis. Scouts from the enemy retreating army were soon spotted along the eastern junction from Vindóbona, on which the Ghantish-Vannoisian party traveled.

Lords Kedarra and Tograma ordered one of their scouts to make contact with the enemy scouting party while bearing a white flag. The honor fell to a northern soldier by the name of “Johan,” who was dressed in a light infantry uniform trimmed with northern furs. He spoke Latin well enough. At least. the commanders watched as he made his way towards the enemy scouting party.

The enemy scouts held their position at the far side of the road just before a bend and the highway junction at Cularo. An officer from Michael’s soldiers stood out from the rest, making his way to meet with the Ghantish envoy in the middle of the road. The enemy Latin soldier was without a rifle during his approach, though dressed in a battered and torn heavy infantry uniform.

The Ghantish envoy spoke. “I am of the Ghantish Expeditionary Force, under the command of the Emperor of Ghant. I take it you fight for Emperor Michael?”

“Aye. What business does the Emperor of Ghant have in Latium?” the Latin soldier spoke plainly.

Johan cleared his throat. “The business of peace, which is why I’m here. We’ve received word that your Emperor is dead, that the Edomites have turned cloak and that Prince Leo has entered Castellum. Emperor Constantine is less than an hour away with his host. This is your opportunity to lay down your arms and bend the knee to your rightful Emperor, lest you shall be dealt with as traitors in the field.”

“Words are wind. But do you have any proof?” the soldier said.

Johan looked around between the other soldiers in his convoy. “I suppose you’ll have to take my word for it. Think carefully of your next move, because it may be your last.”

“Well I’ll have to take this to my commander,” the Latin countered.

“Do that, if you must,” Johan answered. “We’ll be waiting right here. My Emperor is willing to treat with your commanders, should they wish to speak in person.”

The Latin soldier nodded and began to walk towards his small unit. They began to speak amongst themselves when one began to radio for their commander and main base. After a few minutes, the same Latin soldier approached the Ghantish envoy again. “Tell your Emperor that Legate Potitius will arrive shortly.”

“Understood.” the Ghantish party radioed the Emperor’s camp and informed them that Legate Potitius had agreed to come and treat with him. In the meantime, Johan and the Ghantish party waited at their present position.

Nearly five minutes later, a Latin convoy of humvees and jeeps arrived at the scene. They stopped near the few Latin scouts who had been waiting around since the first paraly, with Legate Potitius stepping out of one of the humvees. He wore military fatigues, though he looked as tired and defeated as the few in his entourage who followed him to the meeting place on foot.

Johan led the way back to the Ghantish camp, where soldiers were standing at the ready or on patrols. They were brought to the Emperor’s tent, and escorted in. Once again, the Emperor was seated at a small table with a tankard of wine, dressed in a smoky grey tunic and black cape draped over his shoulders and cascading behind his chair. Also present were Lords Tograma, Kedarra, Princess Maria, Empress Dowager Teresa and Prince Jean-Marc.

“Welcome, Legate,” the Emperor stated politely. “Please, have a seat, and allow me to extend to you the hospitality of my tent,” he gestured towards a platter of bread and a bowl of salt. “And wine, of course, of a most exceptional Vannoisian vintage.”

The Legate entered the tent with a degree of skepticism, though was shocked at how full and well traveled the Ghantish party had been. Legate Potitius recognized none in the tent except for Princess Maria who smiled at him when he looked in her direction. He took a small amount from the offering of bread while ignoring the salt. “I thank you for your hospitality… though my diet...” he added about the salt with a smile as he took a seat. “So then, Michael is dead?”

“Supposedly, Legate,” Nathan answered as he poured the Legate a cup of black Vannoisian wine. “My Edomite aide-de-camp has informed me of that, though I’m as skeptical of the intelligence as you are.”

“We can’t do much with rumors, can we?” the Legate noted, inspecting the Ghantish Emperor. “Even if a false rumor, I’m sure it’s not long off….if we’re speaking openly, Your Majesty.”

“We can drink,” quipped the Emperor as he offered the Legate a full cup. “Here’s the deal. If we’re speaking honestly as men, I don’t know what’s going on with Michael. I hear he’s dead, though I hope that’s not the case. Whatever he is, the Edomites have betrayed him and turned cloak, my brother is entering the city, and Constantine is less than an hour away from this location. You’re more than welcome to wait for him to arrive with me, and do whatever you must with him. That’s the course of action that I encourage, because if there’s anything I despise, it’s seeing men of honor dying in vain for lost causes.”

“You know I wasn’t originally the commander of his army. When the boy sent us to take his brother in Adrianople, we were led by Strategos Alexander Ennius. He died about a week ago or so,” Legate finally reached for the wine offered by the Emperor. “The rest of the legates and I voted who to take up command after that. Command fell to me, and we began to retreat. We’ve been losing for a while, and Castellum didn’t want to see it. Some of the men didn’t want to give up yet, but we had some space and time to make a decision until you arrived.”

Nathan drank his wine purposefully, and inclined his head. “Tell me, did you serve under Emperor Jason?” he asked.

“I joined the military just before his father died...Emperor Leo,” Legate Potitius stated. “But yes, I was made Legate during Emperor Jason’s reign.”

“I knew Emperor Leo...somewhat,” mused the Emperor between sips of wine. “I was just a boy, but I knew him to be a man of honor. I knew his son to be a man that never escaped his shadow. Emperor Jason never liked me, he thought I was weak, foolhardy and too easily governed by whims and passions. For the longest time I was resentful of this perception, until I eventually came to realize that he was right. Say what you will about the man, but he had good senses and was a reasonable judge of character.”

The Emperor threw back that cup, and set it down briskly upon the small wooden table. “Anyone that knew Constantine and Michael would know that there was never any doubting that Jason would name the former as his heir. In light of that, what madness possessed you, Legate, into taking up arms for Michael’s cause?”

“I never met either of ‘em. I was commissioned by Empress Zoe way back when. So I’ll have to take your word on that, Your Majesty,” the Legate replied. “Strategos Ennius was why. We were based near Falerii Novi, to the southwest of the capital. He never discussed reasons, just told us the Emperor was dead and we were mobilized.”

“So you’ve never actually willfully served Michael upon your own volition?” the Emperor probed him further.

“I served Ennius and Ennius served Michael for a time. Orders were orders,” Potitius shrugged his shoulders. “Most of us were just doing our job. Not that it’s an excuse or anything. How well do you know Constantine?”

“...Ennius is dead, and now you’re in command,” the Emperor pondered with a stroke of his chin. “That means you’re the one giving orders now. The way I see it, you had no culpability when it came to siding with Michael, as you said you were following the word of Ennius. I’m sure if you told that to Constantine, he would be most merciful and forgiving. Are you willing to wait for him to arrive?” he asked politely. “There’s plenty of wine to make the wait worthwhile…”

“That true, Princess?” the Legate looked over his shoulder to Princess Maria. “Is your brother most merciful and forgiving?”

Being singled out caught Maria by surprise, but she hardly stumbled on her words as she held her crucifix necklace. “Yes, he is. My brother only wants the fighting to stop. I know he’s tried to end this conflict on numerous occasions only to have those attempts fall on deaf ears. I know he and all people of our country would be very grateful if there were no useless bloodshed.”

The Legate nodded, turning to face the Ghantish Emperor again. “Some more wine for me and my men sounds lovely,” he told the Emperor, getting more comfortable in his seat.

“That’s the spirit,” the Emperor laughed before he started to pour a few more cups. “And now we shall wait, eh?”

Twenty-five minutes later the first indications of Constantine’s impending arrival became clear. A scouting party of not only Latin light infantry but even a few Praetorians, in full battle dress, traveling forward reached the outskirts of the Ghantish camp. Unlike the other armies, they hadn’t come from the highway, instead traveling smaller side roads. The group of scouts notified Emperor Nathan that Constantine was on his way.

And when Constantine did arrive at the Ghantish camp, he did so with a personal guard of nearly a hundred Praetorians. The Latin Emperor was dressed in a temperate camouflaged combat uniform with a lightweight jacket. His face was clean shaven though his brown hair was longer now than it had been when his father died, brushed back with a loose and rugged look about it.

Ghantish soldiers awaited Constantine and his Praetorians and brought them to Nathan’s tent, and upon seeing them for the first time, Nathan stood up and smiled. “I fear I might not have enough wine for you and all your Praetorians, your Majesty.”

“The wine can wait. It’s good to see you, Nathan,” Constantine smiled when he finally reached the tent, approaching the Ghantish Emperor to shake his hand. And then he saw his sister among the others in the tent. “Maria…”

Maria stepped forward with a joyful grin and gave her brother a great hug. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she told her younger brother.

“I’d like to present to you Legate Potitius,” Nathan gestured towards the man. “Previously under the command of the late Strategos Ennius. We’ve been treating and sharing wine beneath the friendly confines of my tent.”

“Of course. Legate Potitius, a pleasure,” Constantine said once his sister let go and stood at his side. “I’d heard he died. Master of Soldiers Vipsanius told me he was good man. I’m sorry to hear that. I have news as well. Leo has taken the palace,” soon Constantine’s moment of joy faded as he motioned to a Praetorian to hand Nathan a letter. “They found Michael dead in the throne room.”

Nathan sat quiet and still, the swellness pouring out from him and dripping onto the floor, leaving only a blank, somber expression upon the Ghantish Emperor’s face. He took the letter from the Praetorian, and read it slowly, and carefully.

“...A shame,” Nathan said after a few minutes. “I was hoping he could be captured alive and brought to some form of justice. I shall mourn him, for the tragedy that his life became.”

“Truly. There was no need for it to come to this,” Constantine agreed, though Maria began tear up. “He never had to die…”

“Unfortunately, what’s done is done,” Nathan said gravely. “Your Majesty, we need to consolidate the Legate’s forces and press for Castellum. The Edomites and the Chacoans are there already, and the situation could become unstable should we delay.”

Constantine looked around the room. “I agree, the sooner we’re there the better. Is this what you and Legate Potitius were discussing before I arrived?”

“Aye, Caesar, we were. I submit myself to you for judgement, having followed Ennius into battle against you,” the Legate said, appearing to study the Latin Emperor’s face for any indication of his thoughts.

“Bend the knee, pledge your arms to me and my successors for the rest of your days and all may be forgiven, Legate,” Consta ntine told the man, who promptly took to a knee and offered his support to the rightful Emperor of the Latins.

“If we move now, we can be at the city limits within the hour, Caesar,” a Praetorian told everyone once the Legate was forgiven.

“We better get going then,” Princess Maria added.

It was at that point that Princess Anastasia entered the tent, with a bottle of wine in her hand. “I found the vintage at least, shit was hard to find,” she said as she came into the tent, before noticing that other people that weren’t there before were now there. “Oh...hello...people...and Kostas.”

Constantine heard her voice before he ever saw her. “...Ana...” he said once he turned to see her. He was puzzled at her sight, but smiled all the same. “...What are you doing? I hadn’t expected to see you.”

“Oh...right…” Anastasia scratched her scalp and shrugged. “I’m along for the adventure, what can I say? Long story…”

“We can play catch-up later,” the Emperor spoke plainly. “We must move out with some haste.”

“Right uh...of course. We’ll talk later then,” Constantine smiled before regaining his focus. “Maria would you mind coming with me on the way down? I have some things I’d like to discuss. And Your Majesty, thank you for your assistance. I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course, brother,” Maria nodded as the Praetorians began to funnel out of the tent.

Anastasia watched the Latins and the other Ghantar file out of the tent. “Uh...what the fuck man? Had I known Constantine was going to be here, I would have made an effort to appear presentable.”

“...Shut up and gimme that wine,” Nathan laughed and took the wine from his cousin. “Now go get ready...we can split this one later. We need to get on the road.”

Anastasia inclined her head as she passed off the wine, and stammered out of the tent. The Latin-Ghantish-Vannoisian army was now coalescing on its way towards Castellum, to assert Constantine’s position as Emperor and to get a handle on the situation on the ground in that city.

by **Lacus Magni** » Sun Apr 02, 2017 12:09 pm

Palace of Augustus
Castellum ab Alba
(Co-written with Ghant)

The Aemilian Suite had quickly become the busiest area of the Palace of Augustus since Prince Leo’s arrival to the chief Imperial residence. Normally it was reserved for visiting foreign heads of state, nobility or other important guests of the Emperor, though most recently had been utilized by former Empress Diana Augusta whenever she visited the capital. The Suite took its name from the former Aemilian ruling dynasty of the early 18th century, which saw the series of rooms renovated for the hosting of Roman dignitaries whenever they would visit.

The main entrance room of the suite consisted of a vast open space with white walls trimmed in gold between the paintings, portraits or other decorations found throughout the room. Decorative furniture had been arranged facing the fireplaces, with two matching, ornate couches flanking a small table and two similar chairs of powder blue with their backs towards the center of the room facing the fireplace just beneath a large, crystal chandelier.

Prince Leo found the suite in fine condition when he reached the palace, quickly deciding to take it for his offices and headquarters until Emperor Constantine arrived. Initially he expected to spend most of his time outside in the city. Though it seemed that more and more of his time was spent in the suite, holding meetings with his Legates local authorities and allied commanders as they all worked to restore order to the city before the Emperor arrived.

And it was to the Aemilian Suite that the Prince-Catapan returned after speaking with Adrian Ulpius - Michael’s killer. Once he arrived back to the Suite he was informed that his next set of guests had arrived and Leo was joined by Legate Fontieus in hosting Deputy Mayor Thomas Alienus of Castellum and Lord Mayor Victor Didius of the City of Castellum. The group began their discussion on the current state of the city.

“We do expect the city to be absolutely secure within the day, my Lords. Especially before Caesar arrives. There haven’t been nearly as many setbacks as anticipated and as you can see we’ve seen the crowds dissipate considerably,” Leo notified both of the local leaders.

“What of the foreigners?” Lord Mayor Victor Didius questioned as he poured himself a cup of tea. The Lord Mayor had served as the appointed leader of the small district of the City of Castellum since 2007, having been reappointed by Emperor Jason as recently as 2014. He was an older gentleman of noble birth, with close cut grey hair and an otherwise forgettable face with the exception of his large pointy nose.

“The Emperor and I have been in discussion and he is working on transferring foreign commands to local authorities as soon as possible,” Leo started, watching the old statesman recoil back after a sip of the tea.

“How soon?” Lord Mayor Didius wished for a more certain answer from Leo.

“The next few days, my Lord. Things are stable for the time being, yes, and we are working to hand things over to local police and civilian authorities. But it is still a very delicate situation,” Leo explained. The talks would continue for nearly an hour, though not without repeated interruptions, eventually ended by Leo reiterating the Emperor’s desire for a return to normalcy and forgiveness.

“Who do we have next?” Leo asked Legate Fontieus once the two Castellum city officials left the room. Leo undid collar of his black ceremonial dress uniform jacket, finding the room to be stuffy and excessively warm. As he stood for a stretch, a soldier entered with water, tea and small plate of fruit and bread for the two men to enjoy while they had a light break.

ooooooo

Skies Over Castellum

A plane marked for Ghant was the only way he could get into Castellum, Benoth knew. The last time the Knight-Champion saw the boy, he was literally just that…a boy, with coffee brown eyes and curly black hair, in the northern fashion. That was almost twenty years ago. Where does the time go? Like a flowing river, you only realized how far you’ve gone once you’re halfway downstream.

Emperor Albert of Ghant was said to have favored the young Leo over his older half-brother, for reasons that were patently obvious to anyone that spent time at the Ghantish Court in the mid-90s. Prince Nathan was scrawny, puny and sickly, a pasty boy kept nestled in his room because he was so often ill, busy with his books and toys. Granted, he was intelligent, gentle and kind, but lacking in social skills and wasn’t the least bit outgoing.

Leo, on the other hand… the boy was healthy, vibrant and strong. He liked to play outside, he was good with people and had a certain zest for life that Nathan did not. Of course, the fact that Nathan was the creature of his unpopular mother Caroline Zuria and her house, didn’t help the boy’s standing. Leo’s mother was much more well liked by comparison, and had certain circumstances been different, he would be Emperor of Ghant today. There was really only one reason why that didn’t come to pass…

The young Nathan had the favor of Empress Grace, arguably the most powerful person in Ghant for many years, through sheer force of will. Benoth was still in the fighting pits of northern Ghant back when the Isabella fiasco first began, but what he had heard was that Emperor Leo of Latium crossed Grace in such a way that the woman, known for acting out of spice and malice, would see to it that her precious Nathan would one day become Emperor, and that Leo would not. And that is exactly what happened. Of course, there were those that said Leo would have made the better Emperor, but Benoth didn’t care to think about such things. I’m a soldier, not an academic.

Still, the Gods were not done with Prince Leo of Ghant, it would seem. Albert had been waiting in Vorindeum for such a time as when Leo entered the city, and acquired control of it, for better or for worse. When that time came, he booked his private plane to Ghish, and from Ghish to Castellum, knowing that Leo would receive a Ghantish envoy, but not one from Vorindeum. Aye, the boy is still salty about what happened in June of 1997.

In May of that year, Emperor Albert was dead, and Nathan, aged nine, was proclaimed Emperor, though naturally debate begun almost immediately as to who should be regent. The Jauneketxea deliberated, and it came down between Empress Grace and Prince Albert. Grace had worn off her welcome with the nobility with her heavy-handed ways, and Albert had built up much good will with the north, given his campaign against Obara Thrall a few years prior. So it came to pass that Albert was named Prince Regent of Ghant, until Nathan came of age eight and a half years later.

One of Albert’s first actions as regent was to attaint, and banish Leo and his sisters, Diana and Theodora from Ghant, for reasons that he never shared. When pressed, he would refuse to answer, and Benoth knew that he would punish anyone mercilessly who gossiped about it at court. To this day, those reasons remained unknown even to Benoth, which the knight-champion found to be rather strange. Since he’s usually fairly honest about the logic behind his dealings.

In any case, the private plane was a small one with a modest group of diplomats…at least that’s what they were in the guise of. Albert wasn’t above disguises himself, having secured the robes of an Arragaran monk, complete with the rope-belt and cowl. He spoke to no one and forbade conversation, for his mind was clearly heavy. Benoth, for his part, was instructed to wear a mask, lest the prince recognize him from all those years ago.

That’s how it had to be done. For the past twenty years, Albert and Leo found themselves in the same room only a few times, and when that was the case, Leo avoided him like the plague. Albert didn’t push himself onto the boy or his sisters, finding that giving them their desired space was the best policy. Even after Nathan restored Leo and his sisters on the first day of his majority in January 2006, they still avoided the man, bitter over his actions. And rightfully so…for they were publicly shamed. Albert had to have had a good reason for doing that…

The plane gave its codes to the appropriate authorities in Castellum prior to its descent, and requested for private transport to the palace upon arrival. To this end, the so called “leader” of this diplomatic envoy was a man by the name of Karl Kalstuga, an admittedly seedy looking middle aged man with graying hair and cobalt eyes in a brown suit with cigars in his coat pocket. He apparently had some government business in Castellum that required his presence.

The “delegation” also included a princess, Amerei of Izotza, the heir of her older sister Izolde, and like her, was a dirty blonde with grey eyes, smooth fair skin that got red when flush, and a shapely figure and wide hips concealed beneath an elegant turquoise gown. As Izolde’s heir, she often acted as Queen whenever Izolde was away. This prompted Izolde to keep her trips short, as Amerei ruled in her own way, and well at that. The girl was shrewd and calculating, and as such, Benoth assumed the nature of her visit had something to do with some plot of hers.

Benoth braced himself as the plane lowered itself towards the runway, needing to be prepared for anything, as was his charge. Of late Latium was a treacherous place, as the diplomat and princess had been advised, each with their own reasons for being in attendance, aside from knowingly providing Albert with a cover in order to gain Leo’s audience. If something went wrong, Benoth would be the one to take action, and die if needs be. He was at peace with that...had been for years. Let us hope that it doesn’t come to that…

The Palace of Augustus, including the city of Castellum, had been by and large secured at this point. Security at the palace, while not quite up to the level it had been prior to the death of Emperor Jason, was still formidable, with the Latin soldiers forming the first and heaviest line of security at the base of the Palatine Hill. The first line of security would screen visitors for weapons or contraband, check papers or identification and take fingerprints and photographs of non-previously cleared visitors.

“...Not all of us have identification,” Princess Amerei explained to security just past the first checkpoint. “And I fail to see why those that don’t would need to have it. After the atrocities that have been committed against Ghantish citizens in this city, the least you can do is accept the nature of our visit, and the identification of myself and Mr. Kalstuga, and send us on our way to Prince Leo,” she insisted.

“Apologies, ‘Highness, the Prince requires proper identification for all visitors...regardless of nationality. No exceptions,” a Latin soldier bearing a rifle said to Princess Amerei.

“What’s going on here?” another Latin soldier, officer by the looks of him, interrupted after noticing the long wait of the current party.

“Sir. A Ghantish diplomatic party wishes entrance, but some lack proper identification,” the first Latin soldier told his commander.

“What’d the list say?” the officer said to front guards before turning towards Princess Amerei. “What’s the nature of your visit?”

Amerei turned to Mr. Kalstuga, who leaned out the window to look at the Latins. “Gentlemen, I’m here on behalf of the Ghantish government to ascertain the condition of the Ghantish diplomats staffed at the embassy taken prisoner by Michael. I seem to recall Emperor Constantine saying that he would fully cooperate with us when it came to sorting that mess out. Now I know things have been hectic around here, but I don’t have time to jump through a bunch of hoops while our people are unaccounted for. Now, I seem to recall that Constantine is the Emperor, and not Leo, so why don’t you be a good soldier and let us in, since I’ve shown you my papers and my Imperial badge, and our security personnel have already turned over their weapons. Or, you can keep making things difficult and I can give my Emperor a call...he is with Constantine right now, you know,” he said gruffly.

The Latin officer looked over his shoulder to the first guard, who was scanning through the list of visitors and the Prince’s schedule. “They there?” the officer said in Greek. The first soldier nodded. “And you did everything else?”

“Aye, sir,” the guard nodded nervously.

“I pray you accept our apologies for being overly cautious. You’re free to pass and have your belongings ready to be searched at the main entrance,” the officer said before giving the signal for his soldiers to open the gates.

“Very good,” Mr. Kalstuga said with a smile. “Thank you.” With that, they waited for the escort to the palace to await their meeting with Prince Leo. Mr. Kalstuga rolled his window up and leaned back in his seat. “You’re lucky I came,” he said to his companions, some nodding and others remaining silent.

Once through the first checkpoint, visitors would be required to show their identification once more. If cleared after passing through a metal detector, any visitors would receive a visitor's pass and escort to their place of business or meeting by a number of Latin soldiers from Prince Leo’s army. The Ghantish party would soon proceed through the final checkpoint, without any hiccups minus the lack of identification for certain members. However, after a quick message from the officer at the first checkpoint and a clean pass through the metal detectors, guards would escort the Ghantish party to their meeting with Prince Leo.

The Latin escort led the Ghantar to Prince Leo’s office and headquarters at the Aemilian Suite. Outside of the doors, Legate Fontieus had been waiting patiently to welcome the Ghantish party with a smile on his face. “Your Highness,” he grinned after taking a quick look at Princess Amerei just as another guard began to open one of the large double doors to the Prince’s Suite. “Your Excellencies. Thank you for coming, His Highness has been looking forward to your arrival. I hope your travels went well.”

“Quite well indeed,” Princess Amerei curtsied gracefully, her long strands of blonde hair tumbling down past her shoulders. “Thank you, Legate...though as per Ghantish custom, I would insist upon guest right...preferably conducted by Prince Leo. A necessary precaution, given recent events...I hope you don’t mind.”

“As you wish. I’ll have that arranged at once,” Legate Fontieus smiled to the Princess. He threw a nod to a member of the escort guard to go gather what was requested. “Get on that at once.” And then the doors to the Suite were finally opened, the Legate extending his arm to allow the Ghantish entrance into the main room first.

Inside Prince Leo sat at one of the chairs facing the fireplace, reading from an unmarked folder. When he heard the doors creak open, he placed the folder down and stood to welcome the visitors. “Princess Amerei, Mr. Kalstuga, thank you for coming,” Leo said just as Fontieus reached him to whisper something to him. “It should be just a moment until the bread and salt arrive. I hadn’t thought it necessary, so I hope you accept my apology.”

“Thank you for having us, and on such short notice,” Amerei said with a smile. “Do you mind if I have a seat while we wait for the administration of Guest Right? If that’s okay, then apology accepted,” she teased him.

“Oh yes, please. Make yourself at home,” Prince Leo smiled to the Princess. Not long after a soldier rushed in carrying a plate, which he set down on the small table between the couches near the fireplace. Leo thanked the guard before making an offering to his guests and taking a small portion for himself. “Please accept this offering of bread and salt as a sign of my hospitality.”

Amerei nodded and sat down, though she got back up when the plate arrived. She took a piece of bread and a piece of salt. Mr. Kalstuga did the same, and so on and so forth down the line, with the hooded monk going last. “Mr. Kalstuga would like to speak with you first, if you’d allow that,” Amerei said, as she made herself comfortable again on the couch.

“First, I would like to tell you that I took some time to review what files remained once the city was recaptured and it appears most prisoners were exchanged. But by all means, Mr. Kalstuga” Leo inclined his head towards the man.

“That’s what I’m here to talk about,” Mr. Kalstuga spoke candidly. “To see to the matter of the Ghantish captives...to their conditions, if any were wounded, their treatment, etc. As you can imagine, they will want recompense...they Ghantish Diplomatic Corps isn’t pleased, and as you’re grandmother once said famously, “whoever’s left holding the bag must foot the bill.” You get where I’m coming from I assume, your Highness.”

“To my knowledge most had been returned, with orders for the NHS to cover treatment for those that required it by the Duchess of Vindóbona. According to the files that is. We’re still trying to account for any that may still be receiving medical treatment” Leo said plainly, looking towards the diplomat. “However, beyond that I’m not sure what more can be done without further elaboration.”

“Do you mind if I personally inspect the areas where they were contained prior to their release?” he asked the Prince. “With all due respect of course...I have my orders, after all. To be thorough. Then I’d like to inspect the Embassy. There’s alot we need to do about that too...repairs, replacing lost and damaged property, reestablishing it as the embassy, so on and so forth. I know the Edomites are there now...I’d rather deal with you then them on that issue if I can avoid it,” he said with a grin. “They can be a pain in the ass…”

“Yes, that can easily be arranged,” Leo smiled politely. “It appears a number were previously held in some makeshift cells within the palace, though I believe most were taken to hospitals that night.”

“Very good...we can work out the rest of the specifics later,” Mr. Kalstuga said with a bow of his head, standing up straight. “I won’t take up too much of your time, your Highness. I know you’re busy...and it’s not about to get any less busy in the coming days.” After he showed himself out of the room, Princess Amerei got up, and straightened out the skirt of her dress.

The princess said, “...if I may your Highness, I would like to beseech you on a matter that I felt required my...personal attendance.” the princess was noticeably bashful.

“Other than matters relating to the diplomatic staff?” Leo looked to his Legate before fixing a curious gaze on princess. “Very well, we still have some time.”

“Well...it is diplomatic in nature...in a sense of the word,” she stammered, before straightening her back and looking straight and true. “Word of your exploits has traveled throughout Ghant, and beyond...they are most impressive. A prince of two countries, and a hero in one already,” she said with a smile. “It is for those reasons, and others of course, that I would humbly offer you my...hand in marriage,” she finished, her fair cheeks turning a shade of red.

Leo immediately coughed, patting a hand against his chest, due to the surprise. “Excuse me...marriage?” the Prince looked puzzled, though Legate Fontieus worked to keep any laugher at bay. After quickly gathering himself, Leo continued. “I’m sorry, you’ve caught me at great surprise. I’m flattered by your kind words, but to my knowledge this is the first time we’ve ever met.”

“Why yes, of course...indeed it is,” she replied. “Something to consider, at least...I should go and freshen up...it’s been a long trip.” With that, she curtsied and hastened away from the room, with her retainers in pursuit. Still there were the hooded man, the tall masked man, and another man with wavy brown hair. It was the latter that spoke, with a gentle sigh. “Lastly is a brother of the Order of Arragaran monks,” he said of the hooded man clad in roughspun robes.

The two Latin military men rose as the Princess exited, though Leo stood silent, appearing confused what just happened. Instead, Legate Fontieus spoke up to address the monk. “And what is it he wants?”

“He wishes an audience with Prince Leo,” the herald announced. “Preferably in private.”

“Can he not speak for himself?” Fontieus asked with a smile.

“Celus,” Leo looked at his Legate, shaking his head. He turned back to the herald. “An audience regarding?”

The herald paused for a moment before answering. “That he did not say...the monks are a private lot, they keep their business to themselves. Though if I had to venture a guess...it’s in regards to your house’s ancestral sword. The order likes to keep them accounted for, after all.”

“The Emperor’s sword?” Leo stated rhetorically. He sat in his chair, rubbing his forehead slowly before releasing a light sigh, pouring a fresh cup of tea. “Very well. That will be all for now, Legate.”

“I presume so.” After the prince asked the legate to leave, the monk waved his hand, and both the herald and the masked man left. The monk remained, standing still in the room, facing Leo with his head facing down, so as to be concealed beneath the cowl.

“Please have a seat,” Leo offered the monk once it was just the two of them left in the main room. “The sword then? I can send for someone to fetch it.”

The monk took a seat, though when he did, he responded to Leo by saying, “that won’t be necessary.” After a moment’s pause, he pulled back his cowl and looked at the Prince. “Hello, nephew. It’s been a long time.”

Leo reared back in his seat, his eyes wide with surprise and anger as his lips quivered, failing to find words for his feelings. He was breathing rapidly, gripping the end of his chair’s arm rest so tightly that he thought it would break if he didn’t let up. Then he stood up quickly. “You...you...you need to leave. Now.”

“Oh, do I now?” Albert asked politely, feigning surprise. “There’s a reason why I’m here...perhaps you’d like to find out. After all, I’ve respected your wishes for the past twenty years...so whatever I have to say must be important, right?”

“No,” Leo shook his head, his face growing red from rage. “There’s nothing you could say that I’d ever want to hear. Now leave, and don’t make me ask a third time.”

Albert wiggled his lips, and then began to reach into his pocket. “I think you’d be surprised. No, you won’t ask me a third time,” he nodded as he produced an envelope from his pocket. “Your uncle Jason trusted me with this,” he said as he tossed the envelope onto the table. “Your uncle trusted me...maybe it’s about time you did too.”

To: Albert of Vorindeum
From: Jason VI Augustus of Latium
Encryption: Eyes Only

Albert,

I have given a great deal of thought to the enclosed and it was not a decision I came to lightly. Events have occurred recently that have given rise to grave concerns for what may occur following my death. Marsella has often insisted that you are a man who would never “disavow the truth” no matter what it may be or how it will impact you. I have often found that difficult to believe, though I trust her word above all others. Because of this, I simply see no other option that what I am about to ask of you.

That upon my death you present this document, my handwritten, signed, and sealed Last Will and Testament, as certified by the Supreme Court of Latium, to the international community to prevent any harm to my children, my wife, my mother, brother and sisters and their families, and most of all the people of Latium. I hope that should the worst occur after my death, that by providing you with this document, we can prevent my family and my country from being torn apart. Measures have been taken in order to prevent my greatest fears, however that may not be enough in the end.

Signed,
Jason
Dated: 12 March 2016

Attached: Last Will and Testament of Gaius Claudius Nero Iason Felix Alexander Caesar Augustus

My powers shall pass to my eldest born son, Gaius Claudius Nero Constantinus Felix Alexander, after my death, based upon the laws laid out in the Acts of Succession.
~
In the event of his incapacitation or death prior to ascending to the throne, that the line of succession – by following traditional laws of the Acts of Succession – will be as follows:
Vopiscus Claudius Nero Petrus Romulus Drusus (Peter), Octavius Claudius Nero Phillipus Benfri Iordanes (Philip), Maria Claudia Sophia Euphemia Constantina (Maria), Selene Claudia Theodora Lyanna Georgia (Selene), Vopisca Claudia Polyxena Iustina Diana (Polyxena) and Olivia Claudia Anastasia Leontia Irene (Olivia).
~
That my sons Peter, and Philip each be styled Prince of Latium upon execution of this document. That upon marriage Peter be bestowed the Dukedom of Clivia, and that upon his marriage Phillip be bestowed the Dukedom of Eboracum. Each Dukedom shall hold a remainder to the first Duke’s heirs male of body lawfully begotten.
~
To my nephew Leo John Robert Aurelius Gentry, that he be styled a Prince of Latium; that he may be afforded all rights and privileges of a Prince of Latium, if not already done so prior to my death. Furthermore that upon his marriage, he shall earn the Imperial peerage of the Dukedom of Ostia, with remainder to the first Duke’s heirs male of the body lawfully begotten.
~
That my son Michael earn the Imperial peerage of the County of Durolipons upon his marriage. He shall hold no privilege in the line of succession.
~
That my wife, Marsella, hold the title of Empress Dowager, and use of Castra Felicis or Villa de Anicia, whichever she chooses. That she receive a yet to be agreed upon monthly stipend from the Imperial Estate. In the event my son Constantine is unable to assume the throne, that she serve as regent for our son, Peter, until he come of age.
~
And that I can no longer deny and deprive a child the knowledge of knowing who their father is, and I hereby acknowledge my parentage of George, Count Vinovium and Alexander, Lord Iluro by their mother Honoria Caprenia, 6th Marchioness of Espo.

Signed:
His Imperial Majesty
Gaius Claudius Nero Iason Felix Alexander Caesar Augustus,
By the Grace of God, the Most Serene and Noble, Unconquered, Emperor of the Latins, Basileus and Autokrator of the Hellenes, King of Kings, Most Christian and Apostolic King of Castellum and of Agato, King of Karchidonia and Lord of the Isles of Imbros, Prince of Alexandria, of Ravenna, of Oea and Haenna, Lord of the Palatine, Father of the Fatherland, First Citizen of Senate, He Who Commands the Tides of Our Sea, Equal to the Apostles, King faithful in Christ, Sword of Christ, Defender of the Faith.

Witnesses:
Peter Abronius, Attorney General of Latium
Michael Pinaria, Lord High Chancellor of the Privy Council
Comitas Funar, Lord Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Latium

“Trust you? You?” Leo looked down at the floor snorted mockingly. He glanced at the envelope suspiciously, carefully opening it to find a letter from his uncle and then the will. He skimmed over the letter, thinking it to be a forgery at first. But his uncle’s will was exactly as he’d heard from Constantine’s mouth when it was announced on the television a few months prior. “And you’ve had this since March? From before my uncle died...and you’ve done nothing with it since? Yes he trusted you, but it looks like he misplaced that trust in you.”

“No, your uncle trusted that I would uphold the will, and I did just that,” Albert corrected him, but not impolitely. “I only came upon this will rather late, and when I did, I informed the Edomites, as well as the committee, of my findings, but little came of it. You have a right to possess this, so now it’s yours. Say what you will, Leo, but trust is seldom misplaced in me. Your father trusted me with his will too, and I upheld it to the letter.”

“You should have released it to the press, to the world...not to the people solely responsible for enabling a psychopath,” Leo tossed the envelope and its papers down on the table. And then Albert’s last words finally clicked. “...what about my father?”

“And who would have listened?” the Emperor asked purposefully. “You said it yourself, there’s nothing I could say that you’d ever want to hear. The rest of the world feels the way you do on that subject, and I’m not the sort of man who likes to waste his time.” Albert’s lips stretched taut when Leo asked about his father. “Oh, so now you want to hear what I have to say, do you? I thought you said there was nothing I could say that you’d want to hear...not even about your father’s will...the one that only I saw...not even your grandmother laid eyes upon it. It’s time you found out...if you’d care to listen.”

“Don’t dare play games with me. If all you wanted to do was come here to gloat and toy with me…” Leo rose his voice to a near yell before stopping. He hung his head and rested his hands on his his hips, letting out a heavy sigh. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“...See for yourself.” Albert slowly pulled another, much older envelope from his pocket, and much like the one before, tossed it on the table.

To: Prince Albert of Ghant
From: Crown Prince John of Ghant
Encryption: Top Secret

Dear brother,

Of late I often worry a great deal about what fate might befall myself and my children. I fear that my time in this world is limited, and there isn’t anyone I trust more than you. You’ve always been a good and loyal brother who’s never betrayed my trust or confidence in you, and so in the absence of anyone else I can turn to, I turn to you. Please read my words carefully, and heed them like you would our mother’s.

There are dark forces in Ghant, not the supernatural kind, but secret and hidden. I’ve been investigating them for some time, and God forbid, they are aware. These people are ruthless, brother, and will stop at nothing to achieve their goals. I know they are coming for me, and I wish I could tell you who they are. I don’t actually know for sure, other than the fact that they are a cult, and an ancient one at that. You must keep our family safe from them, by any means at your disposal.

Below are included my specific instructions as to what you must do to protect my children, Isabella and Caroline. I sincerely wish that things would have turned out differently. You were right, marrying Caroline was a mistake, but she is the mother of my son whom I love dearly, and God willing shall one day rule as Emperor of Ghant.

First is that you my brother must do everything within your power to protect my children, and Isabella and Caroline. You are to ensure that Nathan is kept close at hand at court, and you must make him strong, for he is not. His threats shall be numerous, and so you must ensure that he is prepared to face them all. He will not like you for it, but he will benefit from it all the same.

It is for that reason that you must keep Caroline from him, for she coddles him far too much, and I fear what may happen to her if I am not around to protect her. Send her away, if you must, if that’s what it will take to keep her away from court. She will resent you for it, but she will be well, and shall recover in her own way. I suspect that she is as unfaithful to me as I am of her, and so should some ill fate befall me, I hope she lives long and happily with a man that can treat her better than I surely have.

If ever Caroline was a stubborn woman, Isabella is far greater in that regard. She is naïve to the ways of Ghant even still, and is unaware of the plots against her and our children. When the time comes, she will be especially vulnerable, and I do not wish for her to come to harm. It will be your responsibility to keep her from danger, and you must do whatever is within your power to keep her from this.

The same goes for my children, Leo and Diana, as the threat that faces their mother is especially true for them. There are whisperings amongst the nobility, in the dark corners of Ghant, that they are aberrations, children not meant to exist…not meant to live. Those who wish to kill me will surely wish to kill them too, my dear sweet children. It will be up to you to make sure that they are not seen as threats.

Ghant is too dangerous, to murky, to nebulous. It is my wish that after my death and the death of our father, that you send them back to Latium, for I know that there, they will be safe and grow up. Isabella and my children will hate you for it surely, but it is better that they live and hate you, then love you and perish as a result of these foul plots that even now are hatching.

They will not go easily, stubborn as Isabella is. I don’t care what you have to do to ensure their safety, Bertie. If it is within your power, go as far as to attaint them and banish them if necessary, if only to remove the targets from their backs. Nathan is a good boy, and he will restore them properly when the time comes, and by then, it is my hope that this threat has been dealt with, and that they will be old enough to protect themselves.

Heed mother’s council and let her dwell at court for as long as she pleases. Father will predecease her, that much I know, and so she will linger for a time, perhaps many years. Do not tell her of this will, for surely she shall interfere with it and be defiant, though even she isn’t capable of thwarting this plot. She wouldn’t even know where to begin with it, though she’d act like she did, as is her way.

As for the cult itself, be wary of it for all your days, for they loom large in the shadows. They worship a demon, that much I know, though which one I am uncertain. They dwell in catacombs, and they keep slaves. I know our brother Richard is involved in the seedy underworld…perhaps investigate his dealings in order to get closer to this cult, where human trafficking is involved. Be aware of their markings, their symbols and runes, for they are distinct, and not like the Ghantish runes of old…they are different. Lastly, take caution, for not all that appear as men are such, but…beasts that resemble men. Look at their hands and their eyes, and their teeth if you can.

This may be the last thing I write to anyone, and you may never see me again. I fly to Dakar upon the morrow, in the hopes that Malibar may be of some assistance to me. Things in Onmutu of late have given me grave cause for concern, hence this letter written in such haste. I wish there was more that I could tell you, but alas there’s nothing else. I hope I am merely paranoid, and not truly aware. Whatever the case may be, I know I can trust you to protect my loved ones and deliver them from the harm that I believe is coming, starting with me.

Signed,

Dated: April 30, 1994

Leo examined the old envelope, recognizing his father’s mark. He scanned the letter carefully, absorbing its every word. He was skeptical of the language at first, his father talking of conspiracies, but once he reached mid-way through the letter he began to shed a tear. “...not meant to live...not meant to exist…” he repeated aloud, wiping tears away with his arm as he progressed to the end of the note. By the end, Leo dropped down into his chair with a thud. His lips trembled, his eyes blinked quickly, looking all over the room and his nose sniffled. He held a hand over his father’s signature, struggling to find the words to say. “...I...I...”

“...You think I enjoyed sending you, your mother and sisters away?” Albert asked, somberly. “That I found any pleasure whatsoever in your attainder? I did it because if I didn’t you were going to die. I was afraid, after your father died, and so soon after that letter. That’s why you had to leave, because I knew that eventually, they would get you too. You think I enjoyed it though, you think that I hated you? How could I...I’ve been watching you your whole life. I was there when you were born, I was there when you took your first step. I was there on your first day of school...when you lost your first tooth. I couldn’t sit on my hands and wait for whatever got your father, my brother, to get you too. I made the choice that was hard to make, because that’s what I do. I did what I did to keep you alive, and accepted the fact that you would hate me. I don’t care that you do, I care that you’re alive, because that’s what your father wished of me, so that’s what I did.”

Prince Leo’s breathing began to relax, though his eyes were red with the occasional tear that he desperately tried to fight back. “I was a child...not even six when grandfather died. These people...they killed my father?” he froze up looking for the words to say. His eyes kept drawing back to his father’s signature and the words about Leo and his two sisters. “Why...why now? Why tell me this now?”

“I don’t know,” Albert answered. “I could never get to the bottom of it, despite my efforts. Why now? Because I need you to trust me...to at least listen to me. When else would I have had the opportunity? You’ve avoided me for years, and you said it yourself, there’s nothing I could say that you’d want to hear. So now you know, Leo...I’m sorry. It truly am. You were a child, yes...but to your enemies, that mattered not.”

“God...I don’t even know where to begin,” Leo closed his eyes, took a deep breathe and ran his over his face and through his long black hair. “But I’m listening now.”

Albert nodded slowly. “Good...now, this country is in tatters...complete disarray. People think it’s over, but trust me, it’s not...far from it. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked him.

“No, not at all” Leo shook his head and adjusted himself to a more natural position in his seat. “Constantine and Nathan are nearly at the city limits. We’re on the first steps to getting things back on the right track.”

“And the Edomites are in the city, as well as the Chacoans, and the Noviterans are in the strait,” Albert pointed out. “That and Michael still has agents in the field that won’t bend the knee to Constantine so easily. There’s much work to be done still...and besides, have you even considered if Michael named a successor?”

“We’re already working on returning control of the city to domestic forces. I expect no hiccups there. And I’ve already confiscated Michael’s belongings, reading through whatever it was he wrote during his brief time. I haven’t found any indication of a successor yet,” Leo stated. “Besides, who on earth would he name? He alienated every person he shares blood with that has any claim at all.”

The Vorindese Emperor shrugged slightly, and shifted in his seat. “Asking me to guess what goes on in the mind of madmen will keep me guessing all night. It doesn’t matter though, it could be anyone, and the Edomites might support them if they find their policy “agreeable.” Queen Mara asked me to support Michael’s cause, and I declined, for one simple reason that I shared with her. That being...that you ought to be the Emperor of Latium.”

“No, that’s ridiculous,” Leo gave a nervous laugh, shaking his head at the idea. “Constantine is emperor. That is the law. That is what my uncle intended.”

“Your Uncle intended for Latium to be governed properly,” Albert pointed out. “Not torn apart in a civil war between his sons. Constantine has already lost the confidence of many governments, the Edomites notwithstanding. You however, are a natural leader, with strength, vision and resolve. That’s the sort of Emperor your uncle envisioned for this country...that’s the sort of emperor this country needs. You’d have the support too...the Edomites would back you, and my own fleet is still off the western coast. No doubt your brother and his forces would as well...and possibly the Vannoisians.”

“A war that Michael started,” Leo told Albert fiercely. “My uncle wrote his wishes with his own hand, you read the words just as I did. I gave my uncle my word that I would help Constantine. I gave Constantine my word I would help him take the throne and work with him to protect our family. I will not betray someone who was like a father to me. I will not betray a man that is my brother. I have a duty to them both.”

To that, Albert nodded. “Aye, you give your word, and you stand by it,” he agreed. “I can’t fault a man for doing that. I’ve given my position on the matter, and you’ve listened.” With that, Albert rose from his seat. “There’s been much to adjust to today, and so I will leave you with that.”

“Aye, I will I stand by my word until my last breath,” Leo followed Albert in standing from his seat, looking to his uncle’s eyes. “And I don’t want to hear another word of this treachery ever again. If I do, I won’t hesitate to inform the Emperor that you were here or what you’ve said.”

“...You won’t.” With that, Albert inclined his head and began walking away. “Keep the letters. If you ever wish to speak with me again, you’ll know where to find me.” Then he showed himself out.

“Albert,” Leo picked up the letters from the table as his uncle was making for the exit. “Thank you...for telling me the truth.”

Albert nodded again, and said “You’re welcome...that’s what I’m good at.”

Once the doors had closed and Albert had left, Leo sat back down and looked to the letters once more. As Leo was examining his Uncle Jason’s letter, Legate Fontieus waltzed into the room as he crunched into an apple. “What was all that about? I heard some yelling and…” the Legate said with a mouth full of apple. Entering behind the Legate were three soldiers carrying boxes of papers and belongings .

Leo carefully put the letter back into its envelope by the time Fontieus reached the nearby couch, with each resting on the chair near the Prince’s leg. “Oh, it was nothing. Just some business about Lokatz,” Leo told his Legate as the man found a seat. “...the sword. What’s all of this,” Leo asked of the men with boxes.

“Swords with names...pfft, weird,” Fontieus shook his head with another bite of his apple. “Right, yes...these are some of Michael’s documents and personal effects you asked for.”

“Put them in my office, I’ll take a look at them later. Do you mind giving me a minute?” Leo nodded to the Legate. The man obliged Leo and ordered the soldiers carrying boxes into the offices. Prince Leo pulled the envelopes up from the chair, looking at each one while remembering a lesson he and Constantine learned as boys from one of their early tutors, duty above all.

by **New Edom** » Sun Apr 02, 2017 3:40 pm

The Ghantish Embassy
Castellum, Latium

The New Edomites had not been idle. When they took over security and the Ghantish personnel had largely been arrested or fled the embassy, the Edomite Embassy appointed an official, Samuel Shamat, the deputy Charge d’Affaires, who went there on a tour of inspection. Examining it, he had said “This will not do,” and set about making sure that a team of workmen fixed up the holes, mended the carpets and floors, replaced windows and altogether mended the Ghantish embassy.

However as they did this, Council Police agents worked within the work team, inserting fiber optic wiring, listening devices, cameras carefully guised within venting systems, wiretapping phone systems, making sure that their own coding surpassed electronic and software systems.

Since Latium appeared to be an epicenter of Belisarian political and dynastic activity, the Ministry of Police and Foreign Ministry also took advantage of the chaos to smuggle in, persuade or help people who could become useful informants. As was standing operating procedure, they preferred people under the radar—servants, delivery people, messengers, junior officials, service providers. These were often people monarchs and their families and government leaders had around but barely noticed. It was surprising how readily a lowly clerk in records got access to privy information. They often observed the comings and goings of important people. Who got into a car with whom could be vital information. And often it would be treated as though it was just gossip or casual conversation by handlers.

At any rate, Mr. Shamat ordered Lieutenant Pashur, who was in charge of the Ghantish embassy’s security, that on receiving orders from the Ambassador he was not to let anyone in without proper clearance from the embassy. “No one is allowed in during this crisis who is not a senior official of our own embassy without notice. Except our own Monarchs and the Council of Ministers. And they won’t come.”

“I quite understand sir,” replied Pashur, who was a veteran of the Peregrino Crisis and had fought at Cornice. He had a raspy throat to this day from smoke inhalation and always had a rough tone. He and 7 other troops from the 104th Fusiliers were appointed to guard the Ghantish embassy.

The Edomites treated the place with a curious reverence. On the one hand they had done a great deal of black bagging; on the other hand they did not sit in the Ghantish ambassador’s furniture, but kept it lovingly pristine and covered with white cloth in anticipation of another being appointed. The interior looked like a show home being kept dust free in anticipation of a showing. The floors were polished and kept spotless once repaired, the soldiers always carefully disposed of their cigarette butts and only used the staff washroom. They ate neatly and politely as though dining in the villa of a bishop. And they waited for the proper owners to announce their repossession, which would of course have to be done according to regulations.

by **The IASM** » Sun Apr 02, 2017 4:06 pm

Palace of Augustus
Castellum ab Alba
Latium
Acheron

SHIJIN

The night of the raid at the Palace of Augustus of the Latin and Chacano forces discovered the Akai princess cowering in a small room. The Latin soldiers that found her gave her a puzzled look once they found her. Some soldiers moved on to other rooms of the floor, but few remained at the small room trying to figure out what to do with the girl. They spoke amongst themselves in both Greek and Latin, with the occasional grumblings coming over their coms. Eventually one of the soldiers reached out his hand to help Shijin to her feet, “Come with us, Princess.” She simply obliged them, suspecting that these could have been the traitors she heard earlier.

The Latin soldiers took her another room where they had been gathering what prisoners they came across during the raid. “You stay with her until we figure out what we’re doing,” one Latin soldier said to another. The man departed for nearly thirty minutes before he returned with news of where the Princess was going.

The Latin officer approached and spoke to his subordinate first. After a brief discussion he approached the Princess and said to her, “This way, princess.” The soldier would escort the Princess out of the palace and hand her over the Edomite command and Colonel Zelek.

Upon being taken to an Edomite force, their reaction intrigued the Princess. "Looks like we've found us a real Akai lady, boys!” declared one of the Edomite warriors as she was transferred to them. Dark skinned, not Latin speaking… probably from Damoclea and the Edomites. They were clearly physically well worked, their skin covered in sweat and grub as their skin flaunted around their battle armour. They were eager and alert, their rifles patrolling the room. Shijin remained unfazed as she studied them and their weapons. Lilisi could probably tell me all about them and then find some way to mock them. she thought as their confusion grew.

”She's pretty as a doll,” commented another of the soldiers present. Her response was simple in its manner, a satisfied grin as she realised that her gamble paid off.

”Never fear, dear lady, you are rescued from the tyrant!” One of the men replied, clearly not of any significance.

“One would think that someone who seems entirely unharmed might just be an associate? Or did that thought no cross your mind? Or perhaps a hostage of some kind?” Her words were spoken in a teasing manner, testing the soldiers for her amusement.

“Doesn't sound like she's one of the tyrant's cronies, boys,” said a corporal, clearly not you fool.. ”Uh, Your Honour, we've got some Akai lady here.” the Damoclean marine corporal said with satisfaction, “Lady, you are to wait here for our officer.”

“A prudent measure I imagine, and it is Princess not Lady” she corrected in her aloof tone. Why am I enjoying this, these are my accusers, I am not to ungrateful. “Anyways, I was being kept a hostage by Michael who tried to force my cousin’s hand into supporting Michael in a final fit of desperation. Thank the heavens you are here.”

Then after a moment or so of waiting, it seemed the Captain came to meet Shijin. Upon seeing herself he lifted a laminated card which he was holding, then before placing it away. "Princess Shiin? The Ditor Hulang informed us you were here and we prioritized looking for you."

“You would be correct… Captain… anyways I was under the impression that His Perfection wanted myself punished for the trouble I have caused him but I am more than open to change of hearts,” Shijin responded wondering whether the ambassador had lied to her. Her suspicions started to ferment then. She herself reacted poorly to Michael’s death, something which the Akai would latter chalk up to some bizarre form of Stockholm syndrome.

She herself had retrieved her mask from her quarters and had watched the film crew as she was extracted out of Castellum ab Alba to Ravenna. She was told by some Edomite ambassador that going back to her own embassy was not exactly one of the best choices she could make given the residual chaos.Well they are going to be haunted by the Geluxu from now on, she thought as he contemplated the strict control of information the Lazins liked to maintain when it came to sensitive situations like this. They’d probably try to get their editors all over it, to try to improve its image.

And so she was flown out from Ravenna on a plane to the Akai fleet after sufficient permissions were given, and as she flew she contemplated to herself her future. While my gamble paid off, it seems I am indebted regardless. And then a message from the Ditu came over...

Da Migong
Xungong
Xuan
Akai

HULANG

“What a complete and utter imbecile,” Hulang murmured as he read the reports of Michael’s death laid out before him. He sat in a small private wing of Da Migong, with his uncle Qiang and Molxue present in the room. “Michael may just be the worst possible usurper in Belisarian history. Visibly and openly cruel to the point of it being self-harming and counterproductive, incapable of inspiring any loyalty, mindlessly greedy, stubborn to a fault, capable of being manipulated by lust… he would have ruined Latium had he succeeded. However, he was too much of a fool to do even that. He ignored our advice at every turn, did every wrong instead of doing every right, he indulged when he should not have. And now he lies dead upon the throne in the palace of Augustus after copulating with your daughter,” Hulang ranted with a sense of formal disdain lingering in his voice. “Perhaps had Michael possessed the slightest degree of competence this situation may be different. But instead he had to attack the embassy, he had to orcrasize everyone capable of helping him. He had to have his own counter-coup. Give me the same circumstances I would have been Emperor, Autokrator, Caesar now. But instead we were given Michael.” The Ditu’s gaze shifted to Qiang: “While you are not the diplomatic sort, your daughters are dear uncle. Your failure here was out of your control and you are fortune that this was the case. For were the case and for example Shijin perhaps could have been used as an advantage in convincing him, something she did seem capable of doing given her actions near the end.” Qiang and Molxue both remained silent, not wanting to interrupt the Ditu for fear of the consequences. “I should not linger on this, such thoughts as unproductive as they are imprudent. I need to manoeuvre to repair this situation. A message to Constantine, a few conciliatory gifts and the withdrawal of my fleet. Yes, spare my men from this abomination circumstance.”

“This seems like a prudent measure, your perfection,” Molxue added, speaking in a humble manner which was unsuited to himself. “I’d recommend also announcing this to the CPO as well to further convey this message.”

“Yes you would be correct, this is what I plan to do also, however I have another matter at hand to address one more domestic,” Hulang responded as he moved the reports on Michael out of the way. “Uncle, this is the last chance I shall grant yourself to advance yourself. Afterwards your chances of prospering in my administration will be diminished.”

“One chance, I am fine with that,” Qiang confidently rebuked. “What is the fate of my daughters?”

“Housheng and Aorta have done nothing especially aggravating, Shijin on the other hand is indebted to myself,” Hulang calmly declared. “She has to be… of use to me to justify that stunt of hers. She shall serve as my tool, my royal servant...”

“She is my daughter!” Qiang roared as he arose from his seat nearly lunging at the Ditu before restraining himself. “I will not let my insolent nephew dictate what happens with…”

Hulang’s response was a calmly furious one, his voice sounding like eerily like his father’s:in his rare moments of rage: “And you are working on a fine line! Your children’s lives are in my hands and mine alone! I dictate who they marry, where they live, the food they eat, the water they drink. Every detail of their existence is mine to control as is yours. So many avenues for misfortune, so many possibilities to induce their suffering. ’For rebellion is as the sin of divination, And insubordination is as iniquity and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the LORD, He has also rejected you from being king.’ It is better to obey than to resist for everyone's sake here.”

Qiang paused as he realised that the Riyeskonsu around the room were all glaring at him, probably preparing their weapons. “I shall accept this as a result of my failure, your perfection. But I do request that a man’s daughters are kept safe.”

“Of course, I’d be a fool to make that mistake twice,” Hulang mused quietly. “You are dismissed uncle. And you also Molxue, we have business another time - we have an internal situation on our hands.” Now where is my Slate.

帝土
ꡂꡎꡍꡆ ꡓꡀ ꡆꡀ ꡆꡇꡀꡍꡍꡄꡕ ꡀꡊꡀꡈ ꡆꡀ ꡃꡈꡔꡎꡒ ꡅꡔꡀꡍꡆꡎꡍꡆꡔꡇꡈ
FROM THE OFFICE OF HIS PERFECTION THE DITU OF AKAI

TO: Constantine of Latium
CC: Prince Leo of Ghant and Latium, Queen Mara of New Edom; Prime Minister Trujillo, Emperor Nathan IV of Ghant, Emperor Louis XIX of Vannois, Executor Eric Douglas, Emperor Albert of Vorindeum, Doge Carlo Falcone
Topic: Latium

To Constantine of Latium

This Orphaned One must sympathise with both the tremendous success you and your family must be feeling now and also the grief as well. For while you have succeeded in securing your throne it was at the price of so much. Your country and family ravished and for nothing more than a title. To lose a family member no matter his or her nature is always a time for contemplation and I do hope you appreciated it as one did when he lost some of his own.

In the meantime this has led to three things occurring which should be of interest to yourself. Firstly with the extraction of my cousin Princess Shijin Lazin from the Palace of Augustus with the help of the valiant forces in the city - who which His Perfection wishes to commend for their handling of the situation. Waidiyi has also lost its contractor and therefore can also withdraw. This has entirely removed all Akai’s need to keep the fleet present. This means that an immediate withdrawal our military presence is now possible and will be completed as Waidiyi will be returning to Akai. This will be immediate and any residual presence would most likely be unintentional. We apologise for any inconveniences suffered due to this.

Furthermore, the spirit of reconciliation is also embraced by the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, and he wishes to furthermore issue a grant of 300 million Universal Standard Dollars as a sign of goodwill and gratitude which he wishes could be used to help repair the damage caused by this crisis. If not accepted, one would be more than understanding.

You are hereby recognised by Akai as the legitimate Emperor of Latium, Constantine XX.

Yours truly

His Holy and Most Exalted Perfection Hulang Huike Jieke Tingzi Jieke Lazin, first to rule, Ditu of Akai, God on Earth, Eternal Guardian of Mankind, Emperor of Emperors, Autocrat of all the Akai, Sovereign of Lazinato, Yaosai, Zhaoze, Keng and Xuan, Avatar and descendent of Kutu and Waishan, Most High Archon of Xungong and Kaizangong, Enlightened prince and protector of Yahashi, Master of the Riyeskonsu, Ta yuan shuai of the Orders of National Defence Master of the Secretariat of Internal Authority, Gothic Lord, Grand Master of the Blessed order, Celestial being, Dæmon-Sovereign, Architect of the future, World-ruler, He who brings order to reality, Son of heaven, Vanquisher of the unfilial, Great Overlord of the Clans, Kehan of Kehan, Lord of Ten Thousand Years, Inheritor of the Six Dituate Dynasties, Pure of blood, Master of the Colossi, Protector of the Thirteen monoliths, Father of the Akai, Regent of Heaven, heir to the Immortal Ditu Shiyaohaung, heir to Tiao-Li, brother of the sun and moon, the most enlightened guardian of all the Akai.

Eyes only- hand delivered

by **Leasath** » Sat Apr 15, 2017 9:40 pm

Near Villa ad Pontes, Latium
1:03 AM Local Time
(Co-written with Lacus Magni)

The extraction force moved quickly through the hills of Latium on their feet, having been deposited behind one of the larger hills to the east of the target location and left to their own devices until the call for evacuation was made. Their quick trip through the uneven terrain was soon interrupted by their stumbling upon the stream that the commander of the unit recognized from the maps shown to them by higher ups, and they picked up speed as they avoided inclines and followed its winding path through the countryside.

From their drop to the first spot of the dilapidated castle known as ad Pontes, it took the team around twenty minutes in all. A heavy fall into the streambed by one of their number had taken a few moments precious time in extracting the man from the slowly running water, but otherwise they had progressed with little issue; something the unit’s leader was glad for, considering the demands placed upon him by the higher up himself.

”You must retrieve her as quickly as you can manage, with as little harm coming to her as possible. This is vital, captain. Consider this the most careful mission you shall have executed in your career thus far,” the Emperor, Louis XIX as it were, had demanded. “This woman shall be your Empress sooner than later, and if you are able to carry out this plan successfully you and your children and their children shall never have to work again in their lives by the gratefulness of my family.” The troubled looking young man had nodded stiffly at the captain, his eyes boring into the older man’s own, before he turned on his heel and strode away.

Needless to say, the entire force went uninformed as to those exact words, but their leader remained on edge. Each rustle and gurgle of the stream they were passing by caught him almost unawares, and he had to take many calming breaths when faced with nothing but darkness. The twenty minute traversal of the relatively sleepy Latin countryside felt, for him, endless.

However, it was not so, and when the crumbling estate came into view the captain sighed with relief. The towers resting upon a hill behind an old wooden bridge and some suspect looking walls were, somehow, a welcoming sight.

“Trottier, Bettencourt, eyes?” The captain muttered in his native Lyonnois, a southerly accent heavily suppressed by years of training for a generic variant.

“Yes, sir…” A feminine voice responded, and then a gasp was heard from the same source. “Sir, it’s looking like -- there seems to be a force on the bridge of the castle, four or… perhaps five men, I can’t tell as to armaments.”

“Looks like pistols to me, sir.” A male voice, now, one of Bettencourt or Trottier speaking as they scanned the area. “Perhaps one with an assault rifle. They’re calling something to another guard, further inside the complex. Not seeing any sign of anyone else within.”

“Right, we’ve only got orders to take care of the guard force however we need. You all know the drill,” the captain muttered, signaling the force to move forward. He, Trottier, Bettencourt, and one other were on the bank of the river, just next to the bridge, in a few moments. They left behind the rest of their fifteen man group to provide covering fire, and to appear weaker to the Latins. It took a moment more for one of the rag-tag group of men to spot their appearance, and call out to his companions. Once the entire detachment was focused on the well-armed Vannoisians, the Latin guard further inside -- suddenly rather green in the face, and shaking -- fled toward one of the towers, leaving the leader of the Vannoisian force to note just where he had gone.

There was a moment of silence on both sides, with the Vannoisians staring down the rather underprepared Latins; it could only last so long, however. Gunfire erupted from what seemed like all around them, the hidden special forces operatives cutting down everyone before them. It only took a matter of moments, and the force was through further into the complex.

“This way, I saw him running this way,” one of the men said, keeping his voice to more of a whisper-yell in order to alert only those closest to him. The Vannoisians moved quickly, leaving those behind them to clear the rest of what was likely an empty complex. Coming up to the entrance to the tower they had seen the sickly guard flee to, the captain signaled four of his compatriots to take up position on either side of him. They put their shoulders to the wall surrounding the door, leaving their leader standing before it. Counting down from three, he moved toward the rather dilapidated looking piece of wood, preparing to kick through it and open fire if needed.

A moment later, the Vannoisian force was smashing through into the tower, weapons held high but keeping from firing. The sole remaining Latin guard had been discovered just through the door; he had already dropped his weapon, and held his hands in the air as they shook nervously. The Latin opened his mouth as if to speak, but hesitated before speaking in his native Latin tongue. “I surrender,” he repeated. “I don’t speak Lyonnois.”

The captain lowered his own weapon, though his soldier’s remained raised. “Keep your hands raised,” he said, speaking in accentless Latin as he slowly walked forward. “Where is your prisoner?”

The Latin kept his arms raised as he looked to the trespassers. “...North tower...she’s in the north tower.”

“Trottier, Messier, get up to la colombe and secure her. I’ll deal with this one.” He waved for the soldiers to out, never turning his back to the guard as he spoke.

The two other soldiers, nodding, quickly moved out of the tower and towards the prison of their Emperor’s prize. They scanned the outside of the north tower before entering, finding little in the way of signs of life. Entering, they found more of the same, and began moving upstairs and clearing each floor. Once they reached the uppermost floor, the two attempted to open each door until they found a locked room. Shrugging, Trottier stepped aside, and allowed Messier -- who was a touch taller and beefier than the thin reconnaissance man -- to break the door down himself. With a kick and a heavy shoulder into the door, it was blasted off its top hinge, and the lock shattered; Messier stumbled slightly into the room, and was met with the sight of Selene, Princess of Latium.

Princess Selene had been standing against one of the outer facing walls when the door was burst open. She looked frightened and disheveled with her natural hair color beginning to show as he hair was longer and unkempt; however, she appeared to be generally in good health with the exception of the set of crutches helping her stand with one foot held off the ground. “Who...who are you?” the Princess asked cautiously in Latin.

“Ah…” The bulkier man exchanged a glance with his compatriot, who spoke up.

“Your Highness, we are members of the Vannoisian Armed Forces. We are here to retrieve you and take you to His Imperial Majesty at once,” Trottier spoke in better Latin than his fellow soldier, despite special forces regulations demanding fluency. He waved a hand at Messier, who radioed their captain with the message that ‘la colombe is secure’ while the lankier man faced the Princess.

Selene remained skeptical and postured herself cautiously at her end of the room. “How do I know you’re not lying? That this isn’t some sort of trick” she shifted to speaking in Lyonnois as one way to figure out who these soldiers truly were.

Trottier looked to his companion, who looked clueless until the smaller man gestured to one of the small bags latched to his belt. Quickly unzipping it, Messier produced a small wooden cross attached to a simple, thin leather band. He exchanged a glance with his fellow soldier before moving forward slowly, as if Selene was a wounded animal that might scare. “A token from His Imperial Majesty, Your Highness.”

The Princess watched the soldier approach her, appeared ready to swing her crutches at him if he tried anything sudden. But by the time he was near enough she could see what he was holding out. Selene hobbled forward on her crutches to meet him and snatched the simple necklace from the soldier's hand. “...Audric...I knew he’d find me,” she mumbled to herself, holding the necklace against her chest. “Is he here? Is Audric here? Take me to him now.”

“According to our captain, Your Highness, the Emperor fought tooth and nail to join us on this mission. Others won out, however; we will be taking you straight to him once we leave the complex.” Trottier sounded conciliatory. “If you’ll come with us, we can rejoin the rest of the force and await our extraction.”

“If it’s too much to, ah, make your way down the stairs, I can carry you, Your Highness,” Messier said, bowing his head slightly.

“Yes please, my ankles broken so don’t be clumsy,” Selene ordered the Vannoisian who offered to carry her down. “How far is Audric?”

As Messier moved to gently pick up the Latin Princess, Trottier moved to the door and looked around at the darkened hallway. “A few minutes by helicopter, milady,” he said. “The extraction should be landing directly outside the complex, so we’ll be back at the Emperor’s camp location as soon as the captain has finished his business with the remnants of the guard force.” Moving outside and to the staircase, Trottier led the now slightly encumbered Messier. Considering the lightness of the Princess, however, progress was made about as quickly as had been before; the lankier man would scan each floor before moving past, and Messier would follow as fast as he dared without jostling his precious cargo.

They were met at the entrance to the tower by a fellow soldier, who exchanged words with the reconnaissance officer before Trottier led them all to the original tower that still held the captured Latin guardsman as well as a handful of their forces. “This is one of the guards” Selene stated the obvious to the Vannosians in their native tongue. “Take him back to Audric and let us deal with him accordingly.”

“Please forgive me, your Highness. We only kept you safe as your brother told us,” the Latin soldier pleaded with Selene. “Please…”

“Quiet this man. I don’t want him to speak again until we’re back,” Selene interrupted the whining Latin soldier.

The captain of the Vannoisians nodded to the soldier nearest the Latin guard, signaling that they would be following the orders of the Princess. Accordingly, one of the men moved to the Latin, restraining him, while another moved to gag him with a bit of cloth produced from some compartment on their person. Once the soldier was gagged and handcuffed, the lead soldier turned to the Princess fully.

“Your Highness, if you will, our extraction should be arriving in two minutes,” he said. “We will reach base roughly ten minutes on from that point.” In the background, Trottier had turned to his communications equipment, and was relaying information back to the helicopter that was to retrieve them, and from there on to the Vannoisian camp.

“Good, thank you commander,” Selene offered a confident smile to the special forces leader. “Once we’re back to safety I’ll be sure to give Audric marvelous report of your team’s efforts.”

“Thank you, milady,” the captain said, and began moving to leave. “Alright, let’s get out of here, now.” The group followed his lead, and soon enough they were joined by other soldiers flocking from the other buildings and areas they had cleared of any life. The captured soldier was forcefully pushed ahead of one of the special ops soldiers, and Selene remained in the careful care of Messier. It took all of a minute for the helicopter to come into sight, and moments more for it to touch down -- accompanied by an amused “Ahead of schedule, I see,” from the force’s commander.

The rear entrance bay opened quickly, revealing two airmen armed with assault rifles who ran out to the end of the opened hatch to provide cover for the entering squad. Faintly, the sound of a fighter jet screaming by far above was heard as the Vannoisians provided complete cover for their cargo. Once all were inside, the two airmen jumped back onto the hatch and were barely into the main hold before they were taking off again. Already a few meters in the air, the hatch was closed, and the Vannoisian force was quickly on their way back to base.

Selene felt relief once the helicopter took flight, holding the necklace she’d given Audric as a gift not long ago in her hands. She looked out a window after hearing a jet rush by overhead, telling herself that she would finally see Audric again in only a matter of minutes. The thought of being so close to Audric now was enough for the Princess to even ignore how dirt covered and grimey she felt at moment.

The trip passed quickly, though most of the soldiers sat in silence; were it not for the presence of the Princess, there would likely be banter back and forth as was usual, especially after so smooth a mission. However, with the object of their Emperor’s affection sitting just there, the men and women remained quiet.

It seemed only seconds after they had boarded the helicopter that it was quickly dropping, and if one were to look out the small circular windows on each side of the vehicle they would see the lowly lit Vannoisian base camp and, just below them and to the west, a group of small men standing under similarly low lighting next to a landing area.

Touching down without issue, the rear hatch of the helicopter opened almost simultaneously, and it was all the soldiers could do to get out of the way as the young Emperor of Vannois -- dressed in plain, dark camouflage -- barrelled inside. The soldiers filed out quickly, bowing their heads for a moment as they passed Audric. For once, however, he could not bring himself to care just who saw him acting affectionate.

“Selene, my love,” he said, rather breathless as he fell to a knee before the still seated Princess. Messier, the broad-shouldered soldier that had carried her from her prison to the helicopter in the first place, had filed out with the soldiers; however, he waited at the end of the entrance ramp in case he was needed any further. “Thank the Lord you are al-- no, you’re hurt,” Audric said, voice sounding strangled and eyes slightly widened as he spotted her ankle and crutches. He was gentler than he likely would have otherwise been, but he moved to hug the Latin Princess all the same while calling for one of the medics just outside the helicopter.

“Oh God...Audric…” Selene’s voice began to fade as her face lit up at the sight of the Emperor. She tried to stand as best she could and reached out for Audric, managing to hold herself up against the inner wall of the helicopter. She began to cry, not bothering to wipe the tears away. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Audric gathered her into his arms quickly, lifting her slightly so that her weight was not on her injured ankle. “Shh, it’s alright, my dear, it’s all alright,” he murmured, blinking back wetness in his own eyes. The medical officer that he had called in before had backed out quickly, and waited at the edge of the entrance ramp alongside a handful of others. “I will always find you, Selene. I am so sorry it took me so long this time.”

“No...please don’t take so long next time,” Selene kissed him on the cheek before smiling slightly and giving him another kiss. She remained silent for a moment. “Where are my brothers, are they safe?”

Audric’s head fell, and he rested it on her shoulder for a moment after her question. “Constantine is well, he has taken… I- Selene,” the Emperor took a breath before continuing. “Michael is dead, my love. I am so sorry.”

Selene struggled to find the words to say as her of joy became tears of sorrow. “Wh...why did he die?” her face had turned red as she buried it into his chest and cried.

Audric rubbed his girlfriend’s back soothingly. Careful to keep his own sentiments out of his voice, he spoke sadly -- more for Selene than Michael, of course. “One of his men in Castellum led a group of insurgents. We’re not completely sure yet on all the details...”

The Princess sniffled her nose, looking up to Audric with a red, teary face. “I’m sorry, Audric,” she wiped a tear away and handed him his necklace back with an added kiss. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my love,” he replied, fastening the wooden cross to its customary position on his neck once again before kissing Selene’s forehead lightly. “If you wish, once you have been seen by a doctor and perhaps gotten a little sleep, we could go -- to Castellum and your siblings, to Saint-Lô and away from here -- anywhere you desire. I would make up for all the time we have spent apart, if you were so inclined.”

Selene brushed a tear away from her eye and nodded her head. “I just want to go home...see my brother, see my mother,” she said before smiling weakly. “Then Saint-Lô.”

“Of course. I’ll have it arranged immediately,” Audric promised, and finally waved in the now team of doctors waiting at the far edge of the entrance ramp. The group practically ran to obey the Emperor’s bidding, and were soon surrounding Audric and Selene on all sides. Behind the doctors stood the stoic Count Auriroux, Audric’s former tutor and de-facto Chief of Staff for the Imperial Palace-in-Latium.

“Jean, if you would arrange transportation to Castellum with utmost haste. The whole royal party will be attending us, so full security measures as needed,” the Emperor spoke again, gifting a small, pleased smile -- the first in some time -- unto his former teacher before turning his attentions back to Selene.

“I love you,” Selene grabbed on to Audric’s closest hand and looked him in the eyes. “...I really would like to see that doctor though.”

Grinning, Audric responded with leaning down to kiss the top of Selene’s head. “And I you… Doctors, please,” he said, and the doctors took their cue to begin asking questions as to the Princess’s diet, how her ankle was injured, the treatment she had endured under Michael’s guardsmen and more. Outside, a wheelchair had been produced and was rolled up the ramp into the helicopter. “They’re going to be taking you to the general field hospital, but I’ll stay with you the whole way,” Audric murmured.

“Thank you,” Selene still held Audric’s hand as she was moved into the wheelchair. She answered the doctors questions as best she could; informing them that she broke her ankle by tripping as she had been running to their escape car after breaking her cousin Theodora from Michael’s captivity. She also told them that she was given water, three meals a day and wine with dinners, but she never saw Michael once during the entirety of her captivity - only Michael’s henchman Peter Laetorius visited on occasion. The last thing she told the doctors was that her ankle had been looked at by a doctor after her captivity began, and later wrapped up to heal.

The group arrived at one of the field hospital tents not long after, and due to their royal status the Princess and Emperor were given a room not only walled off from the rest of the tent but with a wood floor and stove in order to keep the room warm throughout the night. The two were followed by the cadre of doctors, as well as certain attendants to the Imperial office and a Latin that Audric was rather eager to see.

“You are the military attaché, yes? Please inform Prince Leo and Emperor Constantine that we have extracted Princess Selene from her captivity at ad Pontes.” Audric was unable to rid of the small smile on his face, and his voice was tinged with happiness still. “She is mostly uninjured, as well; let him know that we will be making our way to Castellum with utmost haste.”

“Aye, your Majesty. I’d gladly inform Prince Leo and the Emperor of the happy news. We’ll have your escort ready and waiting at the city limits when you arrive,” the Latin military attaché saluted the Vannoisian Emperor. “Thank you, sir,” the Latin soldier said before departing to pass the messages along to Emperor Constantine and Prince Leo.

With that done, there was time to wait and catch up as the camp moved around them. All around them, those that would be making the sudden trip to Castellum were gathering a convoy and dispatching more and more elements of the Vannoisian air force in order to scan the short route the convoy would be taking to the Latin capital. They would likely be ready before Selene really got any chance to sleep, and so Audric ensured that the car they would be taking -- a reinforced and retrofitted humvee -- included a seat reclined back far enough for the Latin princess to half-lay comfortably for the duration of the trip.

Selene didn’t have much time to rest, nor was she really able to do much more than close her eyes for more than a handful of minutes. Prior to her brief rest, the Princess had taken to opportunity to clean herself - though just before her ankle was re-wrapped and placed in a walking cast. When she carefully walked out of her makeshift quarters, she was now wearing a baggy set of military fatigues. She couldn’t help but smile and laugh at herself when she saw Audric next.

“Not that I want you to get any ideas, sweetheart, but you don’t look half bad in camouflage,” Audric joked, standing as he was clad in similarly patterned fatigues, before moving to wrap a protective arm around Selene’s waist. “I’ll keep from changing into any formal attire until we reach Castellum; the convoy’s been gathered just outside, and the trip from here to the capital shouldn’t take too long.”

“Stop it,” Selene blushed, giving Audric a playful push before brushing her hair back over he shoulder. “I can’t wait to get out of these and into something more formal and fitting. I look all frumpy and horrible.”

Audric squeezed Selene close into his side, laughing. “I figured you’d say that, but I stand by what I said; you could look good in anything you wear, fitting or not,” he said. “Though, I am quite fond of your usual attire. I’m sure as soon as we’re back at the palace we’ll be able to scrounge up something for you -- and speaking of that, we can probably make our way to the convoy as is, now.”

“And I’m quite fond of how handsome you are in your court uniforms...think of how regal they are now that you’re Emperor,” Princess Selene reached up to give Audric yet another kiss. “The sooner I can get out of these rags and into something soft or silk the better. I’d kill to even just lie down on my bed again. Oh my, just thinking of how comfortable that bed was is about enough to make me wish I was already there,” she smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “So yes, let’s get going then.”

“Ah, yes, the Imperial regalia. I’ve always thought the Empress’s outfits to be far more flattering than those of the Emperor when they were modeled for my father; I’m sure you would be quite the sight, my dear,” Audric said, before sighing and stretching his neck. “Right, then. Let’s go.” The Emperor let Selene out of their warm little room, immediately meeting a contingent of Imperial Guardsmen who fell into ranks on all sides of them. The walk to the convoy, and their vehicle specifically, took but a few moments; Audric was quick to assist Selene into the raised humvee, before moving quickly around to its other side to get in next to her. They would be traveling with part of the guard contingent, with Auriroux and select other nobles in the vehicles before and behind them on the way to Castellum. Though the Vannoisian sovereign was almost loathe to split Selene’s attention, he would be glad to see the city for her own sake; what made her happy made him the same, after all.

It wasn’t long after the convoy began to move that Selene started to doze off. She tried her best to keep awake, with her eyes fluttering periodically. Though all of her efforts weren’t enough, and her head found a resting place on Audric’s shoulder. For his part, the Vannoisian was sure to provide as much comfort as he could, and as she fell asleep he clasped her hand protectively, placing it between them both. Finally, back together and on their way to the conquered Latin capital, Audric couldn’t help but believe that all would be right in the world.

by **Lacus Magni** » Sun Apr 23, 2017 12:56 pm

Colonia Augusta, Latium
(Co-written with Ghant, Leasath and New Edom)

It had only been thirty or so minutes since Emperor Constantine and his army of over twenty-thousand, along with Emperor Nathan and Ghanto-Vannoisian military group of an additional eight thousand, had departed from Cularo. They made their way towards Castellum along the county border of Iluro and Egara down the national highway. The closer they were to the Latin capital, the flatter and greener the surrounding lands became. Just over the halfway mark between Cularo and city limits of the Latin capital, the outermost, northeastern districts began to become more noticeable as well.

People gathering in nearby cities had become more prominent the further south they traveled, through had been kept closer to their cities by local police and soldiers. While none of the gatherings had been unnaturally out of control, some people cheered for the soldiers, some for a chance to see the Emperor and some even shouting obscenities at the passing convoy. The highway had been cleared of any obstructions by more quickly advancing soldiers of the convoy, allowing for both Emperors and accompanying royals or commanders a safe and clear passage to the city limits.

Bridgeheads and road junctures were in some cases still held by New Edomite soldiers of the 4th Marine Infantry Regiment, which had been informed of the movements through the New Edomite embassy in Vannois and through the good offices of Captain Rosa Sharon. Radio communications and agreed signals that made it possible for these units to exchange courtesies and allow uninterrupted passage of the Ghantish and Vannois troops.

By now the convoy would have been no more than ten minutes or fewer minutes from the city. Parts of the convoy carrying both emperors and the other prominent royalty had stopped briefly before crossing into the unincorporated areas of Greater Alba. While they stopped, scouts from the combined force fanned out and gained what intelligence they could of their surroundings.

Meanwhile, the Latin Emperor had taken the opportunity to change into more regal looking attire, just as he had been advised to do before he departed Adrianople. Constantine had swapped his camouflage for a black ceremonial uniform with a handful of medallions on his jacket and a gold aiguillette coming from his right shoulder, pinned to the chest of his jacket.

Emperor Constantine quickly found a seat next to his sister, Princess Maria, in one of the armored vehicles where a few other royals had been. Among them were Emperor Nathan, Dowager Empress Teresa, Princess Catherine, Princess Anastasia, Lady Constantia, Prince Paul and Prince Jean-Marc. They had been joined by Marsella Atmos, who had traveled with Constantine’s force separate from her step-son, though she rejoined him for the final march towards Castellum.

It was Anastasia that began the present conversation in earnest, saying that “When we get to Castellum...we should really hit up a Burger Dux.”

“...I’d be down for that,” her cousin the Emperor of Ghant agreed with a nod of his head. “With an extra large fry and some soda.”

Constantine broke a quick smile before pulling it back and adjusting the gold aiguillette on his jacket. His sister Maria spoke up before him. “It’d be nice to have something other than wine for at least one meal,” the Latin princess added with a smile.

“After we meet up with Leo at the palace,” Constantine added plainly, now fiddling nervously with cuffs of his jacket.

“I’m not exactly eager to get there,” Nathan admitted. “You know there’s going to be a lot of work...a lot of supplicants, foreigners to deal with...armies...and not to mention that embassy mess. I heard that Michael’s men looted the place, and stole many of Alexandra’s collection pieces. I’d like to make sure that those items are found and returned,” he said firmly. “Then of course we will have to deal with the diplomats, no doubt they’re already up Leo’s ass about that embassy nightmare.”

“I remember Aunt Alexandra,” Teresa mused as she looked out at the countryside. “My great-grandfather’s sister, she was already old by the time I was a little girl. She had a great fondness for art, that much I can recall. I went to the Marble Palace when I was young, such a magnificent building with fantastic art from all over the world. Truly a shame what happened to the place, and I do hope it can be restored to its prior condition.”

“It all needs to be dealt with sooner or later. The armies especially. I want them gone. I might need your assistance with the Edomites, Nathan. They seemed difficult the last I met with them,” Constantine remarked, now leaving the cuffs of his jacket alone. “And I’ll make sure everything that was taken is found and returned. With any luck my brother was only fool enough to just take it back to the Palace of Augustus and not just let his traitors thieve all they could.”

“That’s right, maybe Leo already located most of it,” Maria added in a positive tone. “If Michael left anything at the palace or in the city, surely it’s in Leo’s possession now.”

Nathan nodded slowly with pursed lips. “Don’t worry about the Edomites,” he said casually. “I have extensive experience dealing with them. I’ll work that angle for you, no worries there,” he said with a smile.

With narrowed eyes, Marsella added that “the most important thing here is reconciliation, and continuity. People have been displaced from their homes, lost their jobs and have lost a sense of security and stability. We need to emphasize that things are going back to normal, and that it is back to business as usual. That’s going to start with getting the foreign troops out, and that will require us to make sure that their leaders are properly convinced.”

Anastasia titled her head and yawned. “...If the war is over, what reason would they have to remain anyway?”

“...You’d be surprised,” Nathan chuckled lightly in response.

“We’ve heard that the crowds protesting Michael had already begun to disperse. I’d be more concerned that any unwelcome presence would serve disrupt that,” Constantine stated. “Local police would be best. That’s why Leo is trying to get local police and borough administrators to begin taking back control while they root out any remaining rebels.”

“I am sure my nephew would be interested in allowing Vannoisian troops to serve under SBC guidelines, help stabilize Castellum and other areas. I’m sure the Latin people are tired of watching foreign soldiers in their lands, but at least these would be friendly to most all the citizenry,” Jean-Marc said, having listened to the conversation closely. “The armed forces of my homeland are likely still chomping at the bit to contribute something to help our Latin brothers and sisters, anyway.”

“I think that would be acceptable. I know that your forces have been working closely with my uncle Theodosius near the border. And I’m grateful for that,” Constantine nodded. “I can reach out to the Consul the first chance I get, and he can discuss the matter with the Southern Belisarian Council.”

“That would be agreeable, I’m certain. Prime Minister Dammartin will be glad to prove the worth of his military spending, and surely David Vasseur will be glad to see it come into use even if his domestic politics are in opposition to it,” Jean-Marc replied, smiling; odds were high that he would be put in charge of this stabilization operation from the Palace’s perspective due to his role in its creation, and so one more position would be kept from Audric’s little cadre of advisers.

“...What worth?” Teresa asked sarcastically.

“Very good,” Emperor Constantine nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Emperor Louis has been taking the same movements as Leo, so I imagine he should be there or soon to arrive as well.”

While the group had been discussing their plans for the coming hours and days, the joint military convoy had nearly reached the city limits of Castellum. Entering from the northeast, it was known they would mostly run into forces belonging to the army of Prince Leo at the city’s border and its vicinity.

There were some shell craters and wreckage outside the city, and around these and guarding the approaches were New Edomite Marine Infantry, still occupying key positions, their heavy artillery still in position to shell the palace, though they were now dug in and largely concealed off the main road. However near the main road stood a company of LT-10 Phorusrhacos light tanks and another company of Marine Infantry. Those nearest the road had received information of the approach, had met with the Ghantish scouts, and watched the approach of the vast forces before them with careful eyes.

Captain Lucas and other Marine Infantry officers gave information where necessary where and when they were met, concealing a friendly contempt since they had gotten there first and done the job with far fewer troops.

“I hear all these boys were up in Vannois eating cheese and drinking wine,” said Lucas to Othniel. “And I thought we had it bad with our Damocleans. But they did well enough. These Ghantish boys look like a bunch of ragamuffins.” They stood tall in the hatches of the command APC of their company, the stout armoured vehicles guarding the way for what seemed like an endless series of convoys of foreign soldiers.

“And they’ve been traveling with pretty princesses,” said Othniel wistfully. “I wish we were traveling with pretty princesses.”

“No you don’t, our boys would have them bowlegged in the course of an hour,” said Lucas grimly.

“Present--arms!” his sergeant-major shouted as the VIPs passed close. Lucas and Othniel saluted neatly. And there they were. Princesses and ladies. The Edomites and their Damoclean troops politely gawked, never having seen such a thing in an army before.

Nathan and Anastasia saw them, at times waving to the Edomites, at other times inclining their heads or offering faux salutes. “I swear they’re everywhere,” Nathan remarked to his cousin. “Everywhere I look, I see Edomites. In the trees, in the bushes, in my halls…”

“Between your sheets,” Anastasia teased, prompting Nathan to narrow his eyes.

“...That’s not funny.” he spared a glance towards Rosa and offered a faint smile. The highborn girls had not been inclusive towards her, perhaps due to her rank. Rosa smiled back but remained quiet, feeling uninvited into the general conversation. She couldn’t quite hear over the sound of the vehicle but suspected they were talking about her briefly. She felt proud of her own troops; they had, along with the Chacanos, reached the city first, brought down the tyrant’s forces.

In any case, the Emperor of Ghant had arranged for scouting parties bearing his standard to go forward and make contact with Leo’s men. They asked the Latins for a meeting involving the Emperors Constantine and Nathan, and to allow their smooth passage to the palace proper. Prince Paul lamented thoughtfully to Catherine that “I’m sure you are eager to arrive at the palace, your Highness...no doubt you are weary of travel.”

Catherine bit her lip, shrugging. “It has not been a wholly unagreeable journey and… Well, perhaps I could get some air around the palace grounds upon arrival. I’ll likely need a guard contingent, of course, but I don’t know that I want to be confined to a Latin palace aga- ah, just yet, that is,” the Princess stumbled over herself slightly, letting her nervousness peek through for a moment. “Perhaps Constantia would like to do the same…”

Constantia nodded her head to Catherine’s statement. “Agreed.”

“You won’t need a guard contingent,” Paul replied bashfully. “Not when you have me.”

The Vannoisian Princess allowed a tight smile, and there was a hint of blush to her pale face as she replied, “Perhaps not, Prince Paul. All the same, I would be happy to have you accompany me around the palace grounds.” Thankful for a moment of respite from her thoughts about Audric and her experiences in Latin palaces, Catherine instead focused on the Ghantish Prince before her and what they might get up to away from prying eyes -- or, at least, what Catherine would have gotten up to before the events of Espo. She was not yet sure whether Espo and her bastard Prince would become the ‘before and after’ moment of her life; perhaps Paul would help in her realization.

At the appropriate time, Nathan instructed his immediate men to “bring my brother’s scouts to me,” and then he waited for them to arrive. While he waited, he had a small table and chairs set up in the field, with an umbrella set into the table for shade.

It didn’t take long for scouts from Leo’s army to arrive at the stopped convoy just on the opposite side of the city limits. Prince Leo had sent forward a number of jeeps, humvees and even some APCs to provide an added escort for the two Emperors and the entrance of them and their armies to the city. “Caesar and Your Majesty,” a Latin centurion with the name Calvisius visible on his uniform. “We’ve come from Prince Leo’s forces at the Palace of Augustus as requested.”

“Very good,” Nathan said gingerly, eager to arrive at his final destination. “Would you be so kind as to escort our party to the palace? Perhaps we can have a parade, with white horses, a few chariots and some confetti? I can supply the trumpets, of course...what do you think Constantine?” he asked his Latin counterpart.

Constantine gave a polite smile and nod. “I’m all out of trumpets and horses unfortunately,” the Latin Emperor looked like he was holding back on saying more towards Nathan’s joke. “We’re ready when you are, Centurion.”

“Aye, your Majesties,” Centurion Calvisius nodded. “Will your entire Imperial party be coming along?”

“My sister and the Dowager Empress will be attending. Praetorians will also follow for security,” Constantine informed the Centurion before turning to Nathan.

“As well as my lot...and their companions,” Nathan seconded. “Shall we then?”

“This way, your Majesties,” the Centurion directed the Emperors and their companions to a series of armored humvees and vehicles. Three in particular had been fashioned with the Imperial Standard of the Latin Emperor, another with that of the Ghantish Emperor and a third with a Vannosian flag for Empress Dowager Teresa, Princess Catherine and Lady Constantia. Other vehicles were provided for the remaining members of the party marked with flags of Latium. A Praetorian opened a door for Emperor Constantine, allowing him, his sister Maria and Marsella to enter. Others did the same for Emperor Nathan and the remaining members of the group traveling into the city.

“Jean-Marc,” Teresa said to her grandson. “I’d like for you to rendezvous with Audric at the earliest opportunity. I’m sure he is eager to hear of our travels. You’ve done well...your father would be proud. Thank you.”

“As you wish, grandmother. Thank you, for everything. These girls and I owe you much, and I hope that we can help to assure your legacy with our new Sovereign.” Jean-Marc bowed his head to the elderly Dowager. “I’ll relay the account of this campaign to him as soon as I can.”

Teresa nodded, and kissed him on the forehead. “Good. I’ll have to make sure that Leo is prepared to serve Elevensies when I arrive...it’s been far too long since I’ve been able to enjoy a good Elevensies tea party in the proper fashion. Catherine too, I imagine.”

After all were loaded into their respective armored vehicles, security forces sent by Leo prepared the motorcade for escort to the city center. Praetorians that had accompanied Constantine and his step-mother had held their travel to the city center up some, by making sure the streets along their route were closed off. Once they determined everything was set squad cars from local police turned on their lights and sirens and began to lead the Latin armored motorcade to the Palace of Augustus.

The lead police cruisers began to lead the motorcade through the Ardea district along the Via Egnatia. They would move along this road for nearly two minutes before turning onto the Via Constantine XIX and finally Via Sacra and the Palatine Hill. Few gathered along the sides of the roads, with police and Latin or allied troops standing at barricades along unused intersections. The largest such gathering of people was at the intersection of Via Egnatia and Via Appia, with some in the minor crowd waving Latin flags at the Imperial motorcade. Here and there were more New Edomite marines holding other tactical positions of advantage. Alongside them were some members of the Latin armed forces from Prince Leo’s army and even local police on occasion.

They didn’t travel along Via Constantine XIX for long, with the lead police cars turning onto Via Sacra at the next intersection. For ten more minutes the police cars, and armored military vehicles traveled along the largest and longest street in the city. Moments later they arrived at the base of the Palace of Augustus, the escort from local police continuing past the gates at the base of the Palatine Hill as the armored vehicles transporting the Imperial cargo zipped through the open gate and up to the main entrance of the palace.

Leo, along with a handful of his legates and Deputy Mayor Thomas Alienus of Castellum, had been waiting for them just outside the main entrance, all dressed in ceremonial uniforms with the exception of the Deputy Mayor who wore a simple black suit. Soldiers standing nearby were quick to reach and open the doors of all the accompanying vehicles. There were also more Edomites here, along with Ambassador Randronoth, Colonel Brero of the Ministry of Police, Commander Joanna Heep of the National Navy, and Colonel Adam Zelek, commander of the 4th Marine Infantry Regiment. The last two had tried to freshen up but were still grubby from the field. They both felt a bit self conscious among all the royalty in full formal dress gathering here.

Constantine was the first the shuffle out of the vehicle bearing the Latin Imperial Standard. He smiled with a nod to his cousin Leo before helping his sister Maria and step-mother Marsella out of the vehicle after him. “There he is...it’s good to see you, Leo,” Constantine was the first to approach his cousin and briefly embrace him like a brother. “It’s not quite the purple you predicted two months ago.”

Leo smiled as the two let go, letting go a small laugh after hearing Constantine reference the last time they saw one another. “Aye, not quite. But close enough and besides, we’re home now.”

Constantine looked curiously at the unfamiliar individuals standing in front of the palace, with Leo taking note and beginning to introduce them to the Latin Emperor. “Your Majesty, these are His Excellency Ambassador Vice-Admiral Matthias Randronoth, Colonel Brero of the Ministry of Police, Commander Joanna Heep of the National Navy, and Colonel Adam Zelek of the 4th Marine Infantry Regiment, all of New Edom.”

“Excellent,” Constantine smiled to each of them with a nod of his head during the introduction. Afterwards he turned to Ambassador Randronoth. “Your Excellency and esteemed commanders, it’s an honor to meet you all. And Your Excellency, I think it would be beneficial to find some time in our schedules for a more formal meeting in the very near future.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty. The Queen does expect that we will represent her concerns at post crisis negotiations of course,” said the ambassador. He was calm and courteous and acted as though Constantine had been the emperor he had been dealing with all along. They had briefly met before at state functions when Jason had been emperor, of course. “And she offers her warmest congratulations at your restoration of public order.”

Maria approached Leo next, wrapping him in a large hug. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she told him before letting go of her cousin.

Then came Nathan, who somewhat resembled his half-brother Leo about the face and with a similar build, though the similarities seemed to end there. The former had reddish-brown hair and grey-blue eyes, the latter curly black hair and brown eyes. Nathan was wearing a casual grey tunic and black cape combination, Leo dressed in formal court garb. “...I’d say I was worried about you,” Nathan said with a wry grin to Leo, reunited at last. “But let’s be honest...you were probably more worried about me. So was I,” he teased.

Then the Ghantish Emperor greeted the Edomites who had gathered to join Leo in receiving the new arrivals. “Greetings, Ambassador Randronoth, Colonels and Commander. A pleasure to see friends...I look forward to speaking with you soon.”

“Your Majesty,” said Randronoth, bowing gravely. As he did this the other Edomites snapped neat salutes as though they had rehearsed this to do it perfectly smoothly. Up closer, Joanna Heep was very pretty, with light blue eyes and trendrils of raven hair escaping a hastily tied bun.

“Aye, maybe just a little bit. But at least you’re all one piece,” Leo smiled to his older brother and reached out to offer a quick embrace. “Let’s get inside, there’s a great deal to discuss.”

The Emperor gave him a brisk hug, pulling him in closely and squeezing him tight before letting go. “Hopefully we can discuss it during or after dinner. I’m eager to sit down at a proper table.”

“...Amen to that,” Anastasia agreed as she followed him up the steps, with the rest of their party in pursuit.

Leo looked to the others in the group and welcomed them accordingly before leading them into the Latin emperor’s residence. He walked alongside Nathan and Constantine as they moved through the hallways of the palace. “Did either of you run into much trouble during your travels?” Prince Leo asked the two of them.

“We chased Michael’s remaining army to near Cularo,” Constantine replied as he took in the familiar sights of his home for the first time in nearly three months. “Your brother took care of most of the heavy lifting at the end.”

“They were good drinking companions,” Nathan sniggered. “I buttered them up a bit with my sly tongue.”

“That he did,” Constantine nodded before taking a quick look to the ladies walking behind him. “The Legate was ready to bend the knee nearly just as I arrived.”

“Keep it up then. I fear Cularo won’t be the only time we’ll have use of it,” Leo stated before the three men turned down another hallway towards the residence and the Aemlian Suite. Waiting around the bend was Leo’s legate, Celus Fontieus. “The Imperial Apartments aren’t ready yet, I’m afraid. We’ve been confiscating all of Michael’s personal effects, perhaps another day or two.”

“Caesar,” Legate Fontieus removed his cap and bowed his head towards Constantine before addressing the three men. “Aye sir, we’ve prepared the rooms requested for the princesses and ladies. I can show them there now if you’d like.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind freshening up a bit,” Leo replied, turning to women in the Imperial entourage. “If any of you would care to retire for now, my Legate here can show you to your rooms. Some of you may be doubling up for the time being I’m afraid.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather continue along with you four before visiting the crypt,” Princess Maria informed the men, specifically looking towards Constantine for assent. He nodded his head before the others could speak up.

“...I need to take a shower,” Anastasia answered. “Or a bath, with bubbles…” Teresa nodded and followed her in that direction, casting an eye at Catherine and Constantia to see what they intended.

The Vannoisian Princess nodded at Anastasia’s statement. “I’d like to get the grime of travel off, I suppose,” she murmured as she moved to follow her great-grandmother. Catherine looked to Constantia as well, to ensure the younger girl was following; she was rather fond of the Latin, after all.

“I as well. Some rest in something still would be nice,” Lady Constantia nodded along with Catherine before following her, Anastasia and Teresa behind Legate Fontieus. Jean-Marc followed them, no doubt in an attempt to freshen up and rest before briefing Audric.

As the ladies were being shown to their quarters by Leo’s legate, the Prince led the rest to the Aemlian Suite. Inside the main room of the suite, a wide variety of food and drink had been laid out on some tables. “Michael...how did he die?” Constantine asked Leo once the doors had been closed. Other than the two Emperors, Prince Leo and Princess Maria, the room was devoid of any further personnel, with Constantine’s Praetorians now stationing themselves outside of the door and throughout the palace.

The room was silent while Leo thought on the words. “Sword through his heart,” Leo declared to everyone in the room. “...what I mean is that there was a brief battle among his own forces led by Adrian Ulpius. We were able to gather parts of it from security footage. He chased Michael to the throne room and freely admitted how it happened when I interviewed him. Special forces found Adrian in the throne room with your house’s ancestral sword.”

“Where is he now?” it was difficult to tell Constantine’s mood by looking at his face. On the other hand his tone was noticeably angry, though shaken by the news. He glanced over to his sister Maria, she looked surprised as she quickly found a seat and covered her mouth with each of her hands. The Emperor of Ghant had a blank expression on his face as he stared off into the distance, letting that information soak in.

“He’s confined to a safe room,” Leo looked down to the floor and up again before speaking. “Constantine, Michael killed Adrian’s mother and brother. Not to mention being responsible for countless other heinous acts and deaths.”

Constantine stood still, his hands rested against his hips for a time. “Have you heard of Selene? Is she alive...is she safe?” the Emperor nervously asked, not having heard any news of his sister since his cousin Theodora of Ghant had been rescued from Michael’s captivity.

“She’s with Audric now, has been for a few hours,” Leo looked puzzled as Constantine showed signs of relief. “Our attaché said he had trouble getting ahold of you, but Audric’s camp checked in early this morning...they’re on their way now.”

“Oh thank god,” Maria let out a sigh of relief.

Constantine took a heavy breath, and looked to his cousin. “I’d like to make some time to see him and father. We should make preparations for my father’s proper burial as well.”

“There was one more thing,” Leo moved to his desk and picked up a large manila envelope and handed it to Constantine. “We stumbled upon this the other night. I didn’t want to say anything over radio just in case.”

Attached: Last Will and Testament of Gaius Claudius Nero Iason Felix Alexander Caesar Augustus

My powers shall pass to my eldest born son, Gaius Claudius Nero Constantinus Felix Alexander, after my death, based upon the laws laid out in the Acts of Succession.
~
In the event of his incapacitation or death prior to ascending to the throne, that the line of succession – by following traditional laws of the Acts of Succession – will be as follows:
Vopiscus Claudius Nero Petrus Romulus Drusus (Peter), Octavius Claudius Nero Phillipus Benfri Iordanes (Philip), Maria Claudia Sophia Euphemia Constantina (Maria), Selene Claudia Theodora Lyanna Georgia (Selene), Vopisca Claudia Polyxena Iustina Diana (Polyxena) and Olivia Claudia Anastasia Leontia Irene (Olivia).
~
That my sons Peter, and Philip each be styled Prince of Latium upon execution of this document. That upon marriage Peter be bestowed the Dukedom of Clivia, and that upon his marriage Phillip be bestowed the Dukedom of Eboracum. Each Dukedom shall hold a remainder to the first Duke’s heirs male of body lawfully begotten.
~
To my nephew Leo John Robert Aurelius Gentry, that he be styled a Prince of Latium; that he may be afforded all rights and privileges of a Prince of Latium, if not already done so prior to my death. Furthermore that upon his marriage, he shall earn the Imperial peerage of the Dukedom of Ostia, with remainder to the first Duke’s heirs male of the body lawfully begotten.
~
That my son Michael earn the Imperial peerage of the County of Durolipons upon his marriage. He shall hold no privilege in the line of succession.
~
That my wife, Marsella, hold the title of Empress Dowager, and use of Castra Felicis or Villa de Anicia, whichever she chooses. That she receive a yet to be agreed upon monthly stipend from the Imperial Estate. In the event my son Constantine is unable to assume the throne, that she serve as regent for our son, Peter, until he come of age.
~
And that I can no longer deny and deprive a child the knowledge of knowing who their father is, and I hereby acknowledge my parentage of George, Count Vinovium and Alexander, Lord Iluro by their mother Honoria Caprenia, 6th Marchioness of Espo.

Signed:
His Imperial Majesty
Gaius Claudius Nero Iason Felix Alexander Caesar Augustus,
By the Grace of God, the Most Serene and Noble, Unconquered, Emperor of the Latins, Basileus and Autokrator of the Hellenes, King of Kings, Most Christian and Apostolic King of Castellum and of Agato, King of Karchidonia and Lord of the Isles of Imbros, Prince of Alexandria, of Ravenna, of Oea and Haenna, Lord of the Palatine, Father of the Fatherland, First Citizen of Senate, He Who Commands the Tides of Our Sea, Equal to the Apostles, King faithful in Christ, Sword of Christ, Defender of the Faith.

Witnesses:
Peter Abronius, Attorney General of Latium
Michael Pinaria, Lord High Chancellor of the Privy Council
Comitas Funar, Lord Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Latium

Constantine looked curiously at the folder, taking it from his cousin’s hands and carefully pulling the pages out. The document was thick, with the cover page bearing the Imperial Coat of Arms and seal of his father, Jason Augustus. The Emperor quickly took the rest of the document out of the folder, immediately recognizing his father’s handwriting as he flipped through its pages. “...It’s exactly like the version we have. Where did you find this?” Constantine asked, not lifting his head from the pages.

“A uh...uh safe from your father’s office. I guess it was hidden before the men stumbled across it,” Leo said quickly, his eyes shifting towards his brother and then to Maria.

“What a lucky find then,” Nathan agreed, pursing his lips as he looked between the others present. “My condolences in regards to your brother. The worst part is over now at least, and it will only get better from here…”

Marsella kept quiet, though she did cough into her hand after a quick glance at Leo. “We need to address the matter of foreign troops within the city and country at large. There are many people here now,” she pointed out.

Constantine finally pulled his attention from the will and looked to Marsella with a nod. “I agree. The longer they’re here the more complicated things will be. You said Audric should be arriving shortly?” the Latin Emperor looked to Leo. “We’re bound by blood and treaty with the Vannoisians. And other than Nathan’s forces, that leaves only the Chacanos and the Edomites to deal with…”

“Why not invite each nation's commanders and ambassadors separately for a small feast or something and ask them to politely leave?” Maria added, unsure if the thought had any merit.

“I have an even better idea,” Nathan added rather merrily. “Invite them to a feast, thank them for their service to peace and order in Latium, and then imply that everything is okay now...so they don’t have a reason to hang around.”

“What do you think, Marsella?” Constantine turned to his step-mother for her opinion. “We’ve had an easier time dealing with the Chacanos so far, but that Adrianople meeting was completely mishandled and quickly got away from the point at discussion. I don’t want to see that happen again”

Marsella nodded sagely, and replied “I don’t think that will happen again. We just need to be mindful of their expectations regarding hospitality.”

“Very well,” Constantine nodded along at the suggestions. “I’ll see to the invitations myself. Surely that should count for something. If there are no other pressing matters, I’ll take care of that and these other messages right away.”

“Actually there was one more thing,” Leo stated before turning to his desk and grabbing a handful of papers with Greek scribbling on them. “Michael left parts of a will, most notably naming an heir. ‘I hereby legitimize Constantia, Countess Vinovium as the daughter of Jason VI Augustus and Honoria Caprenia, 6th Marchioness of Espo, naming a her Princess of Latium...and my rightful heir.’”

“Constantia? The girl traveling with Princess Catherine and Teresa?” Maria stated in confusion.

“It’s not a legal document. And just like everything else Michael assented to during these last three months it means nothing,” Constantine replied.

“But that doesn’t mean someone won’t try to use it against you,” Leo cautioned his cousin.

Nathan considered this for a moment, and then pointed out, “well...you could always persuade Constantia to either renounce this claim on Constantine’s behalf, or she can simply name him her heir. That way, if this ever gets out, her potential supporters wouldn’t have much recourse.”

“If she names me her heir lends credibility to the idea that Michael’s claim was the legitimate. That would only cause more problems,” Constantine countered and looked to Leo. “I’ll speak with her. Does anyone else know of this?”

“That seems to be the only attempt of naming an heir Michael ever made,” Leo nodded as Constantine handed the papers back to him. “Most of his other writings were on a number of...less than savory topics.”

“Maybe have Teresa speak to the girl. Constantia seems to be fond of her from what I can tell. And it’d be far intimidating,” Maria pushed her hair back over her ear. “Or even I could talk to her.”

The Emperor of Ghant shook his head. “We need to find out who knows about it, because if nobody knows, then there’s no need to talk to anyone about it.” Nathan found somewhere comfortable to sit, and then he added that “I suspect the Edomites know about it though...they have a tendency to know about everything.”

“This is dated the day Michael died,” Leo reminded everyone. “Besides, nearly all of his guard was killed in Adrian’s attack, most of the inner circle was killed by Michael himself or defected and is in our custody...leaving only Antonia Frontalia from his inner circle. And I have some time already scheduled to interrogate her.”

“Well, if Antonia Frontalia is the only other person that knows about the will,” Nathan pointed out again, “then I see little cause for concern. Nobody would even need to talk to Constantia either. Might as well consider the matter buried.”

“I agree, we’ll have more information once we talk to Frontalia,” Leo echoed his brother’s thoughts. “You should hold off on touching that until afterwards.”

“Let’s hope she’s cooperative. But if that is all, I think I’ll retire for now and take care of those messages and reach out to the Consul,” Constantine nodded, then looked to the portrait above the fireplace of his grandfather Leo X Augustus and grandmother Diana Augusta. He approached Nathan and Leo before going to exit, “Thank you, both, for all your help.”

“Yes, of course,” Nathan responded as he got up from his seat. I should go freshen up, put on some clean clothes. Gotta a feast to get ready for after all.” Having said that, he showed himself out, though Marsella remained.

“Was there something else, Your Majesty?” Leo asked Marsella from the side of his desk once Constantine, Maria and Nathan had left the room.

Marsella shifted in her seat, and tapped its arm gently with her delicate fingers. “You and I both know that you didn’t find that will in a safe, your Highness…”

Leo let out a sigh and looked down to the will and its folder down on his desk. “I couldn’t tell him the truth...not now at least. He already has so much to deal with, the truth would just be another headache he doesn’t need right now.”

“...How did you get it?” she asked him gently, though her eyes weren’t nearly as easy.

“Albert,” Leo stood at his desk, now with his arms crossed as he looked her in the eye.

“I figured as much,” she said with a sigh. “How did you get it from him?”

“He gave it to me. That’s all I’ll say,” Leo answered the question with a plain face before continuing. “You knew he had it the whole time though...why didn’t you say anything before? What was Uncle so afraid of Michael or even something else?”

Marsella looked away. “I didn’t know. I made the suggestion to Jason some time ago, but I never knew that he actually did it.” Taking a deep breath, she exhaled just as deeply, and continued. “Your uncle was always watching his back after he learned the truth about what happened to his first wife...he didn’t entirely trust the people around him after that, and so he considered making certain preparations in lieu of that.”

“Wait...wait,” Leo protested in confusion with a wave of his hand. “His first wife, Maria’s mother? I thought she died in a car accident. What are you talking about?”

“...She did,” she nodded slowly. “But there...was a plot...orchestrated by the Duchess of Vindobona and some of her contacts within the palace. It was covered up for a number of years, though I discovered it fairly recently. Jason was wary after that, and for good reason,” Marsella explained before making eye contact with her nephew. “What happened with Michael only proves that the loyalty of those men sworn to the Emperor is suspect. It needs to be made sure of, from this point on, that nothing like that can happen again, otherwise this won’t be the last Brothers War.”

“Jesus. I uh, I don’t even know where to begin with this,” Leo nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Is that why the Duchess resigned, why there was a Praetorian detail in Vindobona? Who else knows? I won’t let something like this happen again, but Marsella, I need to know who we can trust.”

“Yes...Jason wanted it kept under wraps, didn’t want it getting out, but I thought you should know,” she told him firmly, before getting up from her chair. “...Not many people knew. Obviously Jason knew, Maria of Vindobona knew, so did Prefect Santella, Master of Soldiers Pontius, Evocati Trebatius, Evocati Merenda, Antonios Gabras, and cousin Leon.” she took another deep breath, and added that “Right now that’s neither here nor there. There’s work to be done”

Leo placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward with a heavy sigh. “Alright. But promise me that you’ll keep this between us, at least for now.”

“Of course, your Highness...you have my word,” Marsella said with a faint smile. “I should probably retire to my room...it’s been some time since I’ve been in there. God only knows what Michael’s done to the place.”

“Thank you,” Leo smiled back. “I tried to get most of the residence in living condition before your arrival. So hopefully it’s not so bad now. I can call for an escort if you’d like.”

“...I think I’ll be alright,” she smiled. “I know the way from here. Until next time, your Highness.” Marsella curtsied politely before showing herself out, leaving Leo alone.

The Brothers War | IC (Closed)

The Brothers War | IC (Closed: Cornellia)

Notare Tabellam Sanguine: By the Mouth of the Wicked

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