Cross of Iron. [P/MT|GD|Closed]

[United World Order]

RSU MAP
OOC

Ivanovka, Krasnova,
4 months before OPERATION EASTWARD.

Joergen Titel had seen it all before during the first war in which he was shipped off with his comrades into what was the Red Star Union for the first time. As part of the 91st Grenadier Division they had been one of the first Ordenite military units to reach the city of Ivanovka which was where the first defeat for the Union and the beginning of a 1 month advance towards Chernaya began. They had made quick work of the unprepared and poorly trained and disciplined defenders there and took hundreds of prisoners while driving the rest out of the city. Of course Joergen would have later during the assault on Chernaya ended up being wounded by a stray bullet during a firefight and was taken off the battlefield. He would re-join his outfit later during the occupation in which the 91st Grenadier Division was positioned near Kokshlovo and where he would finish the rest of his tour of duty without much of a hitch. He had reached the rank of Unterfeldwebel in that time and was allowed to return home to his family who celebrated his return from military service. He would later learn from a fellow comrade from his unit that also returned after being wounded that the 91st Grenadier Division had been decimated in heavy fighting during what was called the 2nd Krasnovan War. Joergen since then had felt he could and should of re-enlisted when he was offered the chance, of course his family wanted him to stay home especially with what the 2nd Krasnovan War was looking like to the populace at home. Finally, Joergen had worked out a position within Freikorps Germania after being approached by a recruiter who was looking for eager veterans who wished to return to a military lifestyle and serve their country once again. He took that offer without a hitch of regret or hesitation and later completed 2 months worth of training before being outfitted into his unit and eventually being shipped off once again to Krasnova.

To say that the anarchists and communist "rebels" in Ivanovka stood a chance against the Freikorps was blasphemy at best. The rebels were a rag-tag group poorly trained and under-equipped but had done enough damage to push out the local authorities and even keep a small force of Krasnovan Army forces at bay, so the Friekorps would now join the fray and remove the problem for them. Rules of engagement had been drawn up between the Friekorps and the Krasnovan government as heavy ordinance was barred from being used and so the Freikorps would have to flush the rebels out themselves. At the break of dawn the first Freikorp forces entered Ivanovka and began to clear out buildings and secure the streets. Fifteen thousand of them would be involved in the re institution of order in the lawless metropolis, graffiti marked alot of the buildings with mostly communist and anarchist propaganda. The Freikorps were to simply sweep the city and remove the rebels from their positions, however the rebels were prepared and had snipers posted which proved annoying at best. Heavy machine guns and snipers of their own would be put to use against them which would lead to further progress in the sweep, looting was rampant in the city and a general order from the Freikorps leadership was that all looters were to be shot on sight, no questions asked and so this order would be followed.

Joergen would end up using his rifle multiple times against rebels and looters, It felt almost too easy for him and the operation was considered by all to be more of a 'warm-up' or 'practice' to many. The Krasnovan Army would soon enough be following behind the advance of the Freikorps and would assume policing duties as law and order would soon enough be restored. Ivanovka would see the rebels eliminated in under two weeks and peace restored to the city. From there the Freikorps would reassume their training with the Krasnovan Army until the next time they would be needed, rumor has it that Friekorps Panzer would soon join them in country and for what reasons they did not know yet but to Joergen, it seemed that something was brewing.

Pezlevko Harbor, Pezlevko-Rubino Satrapy,
Krasnova, 1 month before OPERATION EASTWARD.

Progress was what could be seen by those of the Deutsche Wehrmacht who stepped foot onto Pezlevko Harbor for the first time. The harbor was growing and construction was rampant as the facilities were being expanded and improved upon likely for a greater commercial use for the growing Satrapy. Watchful eyes were what greeted the warships of the Kriegsmarine who entered the harbor its self, most of them being transport vessels and the like, the actual warships were off in the distance their silhouettes visible from the harbor. The tension was noticeable as memories from the conflict in Holy Panooly were fresh in the minds of the Macabeean guards at the harbor. First off the transports were those from the 170th Grenadier Division followed by the 121st Grenadier Division and so on, Panzergrenadier and Panzer units would also see themselves entering the harbor. Overall a total of 200,000 Ordenite Army of those two divisions worth of Waffen SS, the 86th SS-Panzer Division and the 99th SS-Grenadier Division. Soon enough men and equipment would see themselves moving through the harbor and towards Krasnovan territory which almost the whole way through the Satrapy, eyes followed them where they went of both Macabeean and those of the Satrapy. As they went through town after town it was noticible that the Satrapy was hard at work with infrastructure for their harbor and neighboring naval base. The local populace were rather neutral to the arrival of the Ordenite Wehrmacht, some who were staunchly anti-communist praised their arrival and cheered them on, gifted them with flowers and the like as the convoys moved forward to the north.

Many of the men had heard all the stories of the battles that had taken place within Krasnova from other veterans and officers who served during the 1st or 2nd war. They knew of the men who had made courageous acts of bravery on the battlefield and served their country well, and wanted to do the same. Others were somewhat nervous of what to expect and what would come to fruition later on, many of the soldiers who made up the Ordenite Army were former criminals and had opted out of hard labor in camps and instead would serve their sentences in the Wehrmacht and on one of the toughest and brutal battlefields. Whipped into shape by tough and determined officers, they were semi-professional but were eager to see themselves return home to their families as others were eager to head into combat. Of the two hundred thousand, two divisions were of the Waffen SS in which these two divisions had not had the honor to fight on this battlefield yet and were relatively green to the area. However their fanaticism and training would not let them down and soon enough they too would see combat.

[Mokastana]

Port Baile Luxury Apartments
Downtown District
Port of Savannah
Timocratic Republic


Arianna had been sleeping soundly when the the phone buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed a third time before she rolled over to pick it up. It was her work phone, buzzing away as someone tried to reach her. The number was from her home office in Fedala, while the clock read 4:00am, so it was maybe three or two there… she couldn't remember exactly the time difference. What could have possibly happened in the middle of the night that someone decided calling the Vice President of Central Operations, who was currently working on a long term deal in a different nation, was absolutely necessary now,and not in a few hours when she was up? Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good news. Hitting the answer button she mumbled a short: “What it God's name requires this phone call?” before letting the other person speak. Everyone knew NOT to call Arianna in the middle of the night unless it was absolutely necessary, if they valued their jobs.

“Miss Lomengo, I'm sorry to have awoken you, but we have a situation. Our operatives have notified us that the UESS plans to nationalize our operations, everything from the mines and factories, ports and airfields. The government is going full Communist. Our people are already being called in to purge our systems in country and burn all financial records, but their Secret Police have already seized the home office in Vostok.”

Arianna sat upright, realizing the gravity of nearly a half a trillion dollars worth of assets being stolen in under a day. Time was of the essence.

“What about our friends in the military? UESS Army? Air Force? Has the government offered compensation? ”

“Last contact was 10 minutes ago from General Zukov, he said he got a warning that Secret Police were arresting officers with connections to foreign businesses. There were gunshots in the background, he said his men were dealing with them but that he would be hard to reach for awhile. We been calling everyone we have listed, but no one is picking up.”

“Stop calling them immediately, the Secret Police will be listening and tracking our calls. Our friends are now wanted men for associating with us, we need to find a better plan. I'll be on a plane back to the office as soon as I can book one. As of right now, contact our offices, anyone working for us not a UESS citizen, inform them what's going on and have them prepare to be arrested, just in case they come for our people. I'll inform Mr Montana first thing when he wakes up. Anything else?”

“Nothing else, anything we can get out of the country we are. Liquid assets and financial accounts are being loaded up to move, I thought we could contract with Eastern Military Deployments to hold goods in the bases, but I need your app-”

“Do it, don't worry about cost, offer a per kilo price, I don't care. Get our records and currency reserves safe. At least the communists will think twice before shooting up a military force that helped them fight off Ordernites.”

“Will do. Any other orders you have ma’am?”

“Just save as much as we can, I'll make some phone calls and see if we can find a long term solution. We'll treat these communists like every other Communist that pissed off a Lomengo. Good luck.”

---

“Zorya Utrennyaya”
Outside Susol
Union of Eastern Star Soviets

General Vlad Zukov's men had fought bravely. The Secret Police had been caught at the gate, and opened fire on the guards, resulting in the base shooting up their armored cars. Although the Secret Police had the advanced body armor and special weapons, Zukov's men had the training. They didn't expect the Commissars to turn on them, and the Commissar's flanking manuver turned the attack into a battle across the whole campus. Barracks burned and gunshots rang out across the base for a good hour before the dust finally settled. Dozens of Zukov's most loyal men lay slain by their own Secret Police and Commissars, but the first wave was wiped out. In the aftermath of searching the bodies did the military officers finally find out why their own government had turned on them. Arrest warrants, for nearly every officer under Zukov's command, for the crime of accepting bribes and compromising the defense of the Rodina for personal gain. It was technically true, most officers enjoyed the pleasantries given to them by their Capitalist counterparts, but it was the government that brought them here in the first place. It was an open secret, but it seems, even that bill came due.

Zukov place a call to his business partners in Vostok, but the line was dead, most lines out of the base were dead. Only his private satellite phone could make calls, and by that point he placed a call to the main office for Montana Inc in Fedala, gave them an update on the situation, and planned his escape. On the horizon, Artillery was being set up, no doubt under orders from a few commissars who didn't like their buddies being gunned down. The base would be declared in mutiny, and shelled by the very government that built it, but this was the price of loyalty to the UESS. Every Officer across the nation that had been tainted by the foreign devils was being removed from power. Most didn't have such loyal men willing to die for them like Zukov did, but not many actually cared for their men either. Knowing the base was about to be attacked, Zukov and his fellow officers drew straws, the rest would escape and the short straw would stay behind, officially surrender the base, and suffer the fate of execution for the crime of being an political liability. Such was life in Zvezda. It was a young Lieutenant that drew the short stick, a Warrant Officer that proved his value in the last Kashubian war when he stopped an Ordernite Tank charge with a a well placed ambush. He was a hero to the Union, and now, he would die for the Union. Zukov wished the young lad well, before disappearing into the forests around Susol...

Within a single night the Union of Eastern Star Soviets did what no enemy could have done, and purged their officer corps of almost every veteran officer who led their Lyran styled divisions. Hundreds of experienced and loyal men and women would be killed in one night to prevent the miasma of Capitalism from spreading further. One might draw a comparison between the Ordernites and the Communists about their desires to keep the "nation pure", but the irony would be lost on both.

[United World Order]

400KM from Chernaya, Kurakino Forest,
5 minutes before OPERATION EASTWARD.

A eerie silence hung permanently over the Kurakino forest that from which no one could really explain as winter had already made it's presence felt as snow blanketed the ground but was mostly condensed at the tops of the trees that stood tall above all else. The air was cold and temperatures could get to as low as 12 degrees Celsius in many cases, It was common for people in the area to fall victim to hypothermia and frost bite, many coming down with pneumonia which was at times if not acted upon fast enough would mean death. The low rumbling of idling engines echoed through the forest, there were many of them as they filled the forests with the sound of idling engines. Hidden away within Kurakino were the 93rd Rocket Brigade and the 108th Rocket Brigade which had been deployed here for several hours and had arrived earlier in the night of the previous day as final preparations for what was to be the coming of a surprise assault along the UESS occupied zone, further south but out in the steppe were the 99th Rocket Brigade and the 120th Rocket Brigade who were also committed to the assault. Countless men and materials were arrayed along the zone with the upmost detail paid to mind by the generals who were making the next moves from Ol'khovka the capital of the Republic. However the real surprise would come with how the coming assault would be carried out by those of the Krasnovan Army. Chernaya was and had been the obvious point of tension for either side, It was also the most predictable place that such an assault as this one would take as the main drive. Although Chernaya would instead be used as a meer distraction from what was the real main drive the Krasnovans would be getting behind. 200,000 militia men had been assembled west of Chernaya stretching from the Kurakino forest to the south of that, these militia men had been part of several militia groups that rose in the post-war drama and continued the fight against the communists who had then swooped through to Chernaya. Now they would get involved in what was to be their greatest moment yet, they were the beginning of what was to be the campaign to finally free the remainder of the country from the godless communist vermin that for decades had oppressed and later divided the country further.

Armed with a array of weaponry and equipment they stood in their starting positions eager than ever to go forth for glory and the liberation of their motherland. Soon enough the rocket brigades aimed for Chernaya and the surrounding area where a multitude of military targets had been arrayed for them to strike prepared to deliver their first salvo. The Iskander-M begun with the erecting of it's payload, a cruise missile warhead that was now aimed at the sky above as information pertaining the location of it's target was fed to it through a computer. Dozens of these mobile launchers would be finishing the last phase before firing as the crews did final checks on the systems and such of the launcher before being given the 'go' order to fire. Large streaks of pure white smoke shot through the air like a bullet as the Iskander-M launchers fired their single warhead towards the heavens as the navigation and targeting systems took over and would lead these missiles to their targets. Communications and troop concentration areas noted by months of intelligence efforts would be the first to be blasted away by the cruise missiles, one and if needed for some two missiles would hit every target outlined by the information put in by computer by their weapons officer. It was exactly what they were expecting as utter devastation was wrought upon their communist foes, many of their targets would be taken by surprise as it was no earlier than first dawn when the salvo was unleashed. Of course anti-missile defenses were accounted for and had been able to shoot several out of the sky, however the situation of the defenders in the occupied zone was grim as many were no less than serfs who were forced to become soldiers to enforce the will of the state on the people. Much of the opening salvo was directed in and around Chernaya, which would be expected by the defenders in the area.

The damage had been done nonetheless as communications within the outskirts of the zone including Chernaya went dead as a result of the missile strikes, dozens of camps and outposts were hit which had been identified by intelligence as concentration points for the defenders. Many of them would perish before breakfast was even called as their camps and outposts were obliterated along with those who were within them, what survived the opening salvo were thrown into complete disarray, many chose to bail from their positions as the sudden attack had spooked them of what was to come. Commissars went to work desperately trying to rally their men and had mostly resorted to shooting deserters and forcing others back at gunpoint to their positions to face the coming assault. Some even chose treason and killed their Commissar before fleeing, those who stayed whether they wanted to or not would now come under a ferocious barrage of artillery. Rockets and shells rained down on them like a fury meteor shower as what defenders remained were either obliterated or huddled deep inside their trenches or fighting holes as explosions erupted around them, showering them in shrapnel and dirt. Then came the assault itself as 200,000 Krasnovan militiamen went fourth into the occupied zone to root out their enemy from which they came. They came from the west and the north and to the south as the militiamen advanced in armored vehicles and tanks, another salvo from the rocket brigades took flight as the overall assault was taking place. This time air and anti-missile systems were targeted along with command posts, dozens of cruise missiles reached their targets within minutes as fiery explosions shook the very ground and as gunfire broke out along the front lines which had now advanced past the decimated outposts and border positions, much of their enemy had begun surrendering out-right to them as the Krasnovans advanced forward.

The 'Zone' as many had heard from their superiors and others who told the stories of the situation occurring within the occupied areas of the communists were proved true by the very men who now set upon it with the determination to liberate their motherland. Several villages were already liberated as the people there welcomed them with hope in their hearts that their current nightmare was over, In the heat of the moment reprisals were carried out hastily as villagers and Krasnovans alike went on a witch hunt as they gathered collaborators and commissars, some even members of the Secret Police were rounded up and executed to much of the common people's joy and want of revenge for their oppression. Buildings used by the Communist Party and even the Secret Police and local government were looted and razed as Krasnovan soldiers watched and or helped their countrymen and women free themselves of the godless communists. Already the militiamen were edging the outskirts of Chernaya as they were to soon besiege it as the next phase in the assault was already coming to fruition elsewhere.

65KM east of Yukar, The Steppes,
OPERATION EASTWARD +1 HR.

As their brothers and sisters elsewhere plunged into battle against the communists, the Krasnovan Army here at the steppes were readying for an assault of their own. One that would cut Chernaya off from the rest of the occupied zone and the Soviet government further towards Kokshlovo. The Krasnovan 4th, 2nd and 8th armies would be involved in the fatal swoop that would ultimately see the collapse of the occupied zone directly neighboring the Republic and get them closer to the east. Reserves were also in place as the 5th and 9th armies had been arrayed to follow them in later in the assault once the preliminary defenses were neutralized. In the skies above one could see bombers and fighter aircraft heading towards their targets along the steppe as they went on to engage troop concentrations and communications as well, while airfields were left to the 84th Rocket Brigade and the 120th Rocket Brigade with Iskander-M's as any fixed wing aircraft still on the ground would soon meet their fate with a well placed cruise missile. As seen in and around Chernaya, dissaray and utter panic overwhelmed the defenders as routing and desertion broke out as Commissars shot them down or forced men back at gun point. 300,000 of the Krasnovan Army's finest would see themselves plunge into the steppe in armored vehicles and tanks as artillery roared behind them, fighting would soon take place however the defenders were no match for the better trained and equipped Krasnovan Army as they would be routed with heavy casualties, some even taking the opportunity to surrender and be spared. Villages would fall with little to no bloodshed as the defenders routed in the face of thousands of Krasnovan soldiers and their armor. They would continue heading south from the steppes untill they reached the coast neighboring the Satrapy, which from there would be when the reserves would be sent in as new front lines would be made facing towards Kokshlovo and the rest of the Union.

[The Macabees]

Harbor of Fedorograd, Satrapy of Pezlevko-Rubino
August 2029: Destined to cooperation

Tapping his heavy fingers on his office table of a violet-tinged wood color, Roman Anatolyevich contemplated the future of his young state.

Behind him was a window wide enough to take in almost the entirety of the harbor that even now, more than a year later, was still undergoing a mighty and ever-more-promising construction boom. The Palace of Macabean Orent rose above a hill just north of the expanding town and his office's rear wall was of half-oval shape, allowing to see the entire extent of both military and civilian ports. Only the sprawling suburbia to either side of the palace, surrounding Fedorograd like the porous wall of a human cell, remained invisible to him. It was better this way as they said you could smell the poverty just by looking at it. When this wing of the palace was first built much of that area was still empty, idyllic countryside, but now as the satrapy prospered and the rest of Krasnova withered on the vine of instability the island's downtrodden had begun to pour over the border. And they went to where there were jobs.

Jobs, luckily, were in no shortage. The economy was thriving, at least as much as an economy in this particular corner of the world could thrive. Years of war had taken their toll on the island's productivity abilities, but thanks to heavy foreign investment and an influx of immigrants — and settlers, here to signal the permanence of Imperial influence — Pezlevko-Rubino was burgeoning.

Now that things were going so well, a wrench was thrown into his path. Not more than two months earlier a kríerlord by the name of Daryl Novelle had come to pay him a visit. The man said that soon the Ordenites would arrive to ask him for permission to use the civilian harbor and the satrapy's highways to accommodate the passage of more than a couple hundred thousand Wehrmacht soldiers. His Imperial Majesty, said the kríerlord, would be highly appreciated if the request was accepted. Strange that Fedor would want to help a country that he had just ended a war with just over a year earlier, but who was Anatolyevich to question His Majesty?

Still, none of this sat well with him. The Reich was back for only one reason: to retake the island. That trouble was on the horizon was plain to see and the satrapy's involvement promised uncertain consequences to pay later. He wanted to be prepared for them, in case they did arrive after all.

On his desk were spread three manila folders. Anatolyevich opened one of them.

It was news from the provinces. Navitek had landed a colossal contract from the Krasnovan government to rebuild Dathel Port. That's why they let the Ordenites use our port. The Krasnovans were undoubtedly greasing palms for the Reich, which meant that the Reich was making deals with Macabean companies — one, at least. And this was a big contract. A surprisingly expensive one for Navitek, too. They were fronting the capital for both the military and commercial ports, in exchange for ownership of the rents to the commercial wharfs and accompanying infrastructure. For an upfront fee, Navitek would make fees from whatever trade passed through that harbor. An ingenious plan, and they were an ingenious company. It had been them who had ceased the Straits of Jumanota, after all. They had brought chaos to Holy Panooly, what if they brought chaos here?

Could the three hundred thousand or so Imperial soldiers and perhaps two divisions worth of Kysetians for hire protect the Satrapy from the storm that was likely to enshroud the island once more? Anatolyevich had his doubts. He closed the folder with a sign and then pushed it to the side. The next one was stamped as classified. From Fedala, then.

Before opening it, he grabbed his mug and took a sip of coffee, only to immediately turn his head and spit it out. The coffee was cold. Like, overnight cold. How many times did he have to tell Alexander that his job included coffee-serving duties? The young man had a tendency to forget things he didn't care for, and that included brewing a fresh pot every morning. If he didn't get it right one of these days, Anatolyevich swore that he would expel the boy to Zvezda. He would, at least, if Alexander wasn't as valuable as he was. As it stood, the secretary work was part time. He also provided intelligence to the communists in return for trust, and everything he learned went to the Satrap. The secretary gig was convenient for all parties.

Alexander was a good double agent, but no good with coffee.

Anatolyevich grumbled a little longer because he finally opened the folder. He had guessed correctly, orders had come from Fedala. Technically, the Empire could not order the Satrapy to do anything. Fedor, though, could sack Anatolyevich at any time, making the resistant satrap a short-term satrap. It thusly behooved him to take Imperial orders, disguised as advised legislation, to the duma.

The duma would approve or disapprove based on the 'advised legislation', but it hadn't disapproved anything to date. If what was 'advised' was of little true benefit, there was a trade. Nine months prior, the Fuermak's vision of a line of defensive fortifications and outposts along the entirety of the Krasnovan Frontier came to his desk in the form of a recommendation. It was to be paid for by the Satrapy. A hard pill to swallow, and certainly something the duma would deny. Failure on his part, though, might condemn Anatolyevich to political unemployment. Better to think of a compromise before it reached the legislature and that way control the outcome. The bill was passed; in return, the Fuermak removed restrictions on the use of the Satrapy's airspace for any mercenaries based in the city. At first, the fools in the legislature hadn't seen the value in it, but when it was explained to them they moved to pass the Empire's "request" unilaterially.

This particular piece of 'advised legislation' would be easier to pass, with no need for a trade (indeed, trade too often and suddenly your bosses may suspect you're gaming them). Apparently, the Fuermak wanted to extend the defensive line to the coast. They wanted bunkers along the coast, including thirteen sporting massive 400mm guns. Three alone would protect Fedorograd. Of course, paid for by the Satrapy, but alas with dark clouds looming ahead these were the kind of expenses that the duma would develop an appreciation for. Anatolyevich would make sure of it. The stirring speech he was to going to give was already forming in his head.

Anatolyevich knew that events would come to a headway. To the east, the Zvezdans struggled to find their place in this new world. There was news of purges. The Communists were good at keeping a lid on internal matters, but Anatolyevich had his contacts. The Krasnovans, for their part, were not any stronger. But whereas the Zvezdans had been all but abandoned, the Krasnovans had enjoyed ample support from the Golden Throne. And now the Reich had returned.

Yes, Krasnovan odds had increased.

It was never going to fall to the communists. The Golden Throne had seen to that with its money and weapons. It couldn't allow its position in the Satrapy to be threatened by a dominant power, not unless that power that shared the same interests. But few predicted the return of the Reich. Not this quickly, at least.

The Reich brought war. Anatolyevich had seen their tanks roll off their ships and down the highway toward Ivanovka. He had seen the tens of thousands of Ordenite soldier unload at the docks and, their movements rigid and militant, march their way to bases in Krasnova. Many of their installations must have been the same ones they had left behind only a year and a half ago. They were building up, and so was the Krasnovan host. That much Anatolyevich knew for sure. The Satrapy had informants and almost all of them were reporting noticeable troop deployments to the border with Zvezda. There could only be one explanation.

Pezlevko-Rubino needed all the defenses it could get if it was to weather the upcoming storm. Better yet if their masters offered to man and maintain them, like they would the proposed coastal defense line. The satrapy would be an impregnable fortress, a small piece of stability within a greater sea of chaos.

Anatolyevich closed that folder and opened the third, and final, one. This one he recognized by the seal on the cover. He had been waiting for it.

If the Golden Throne thought that he would leave the Satrapy's fate in their hands alone, they were sorely mistaken. He had seen what they had allowed to happen to those mercenary prisoners. He could remember the putrid smell of the field after they had been gunned down — nay, murdered — by the Wehrmacht. He and the rest of the satrapy would be fools to think that the empire would never turn their back on them. The mercenaries hadn't been allies, of course, but any government capable of allowing the Reich to do that was one capable of anything. Maybe that sort of treason carried with it only a small chance, but any chance was enough to persuade the satrap that Pezlevko-Rubino would only survive if it could defend itself. But, by treaty with the Golden Throne, it was disallowed an army. How then could it guarantee its sovereignty, empire or not?

The third manila folder contained a series of documents stapled into packets. Each packet had a different logo. He flipped through them, seeing the ones he expected and some had never heard of. Anatolyevich smiled. Here was his solution to the satrapy's conundrum of self-defense, with contracts signed and the labor to develop the plan quickly.

Here, on the soil of Federograd, tens of thousands of mercenaries were slaughtered clamoring at the imposing walls of Kríerstatón Pezlevko. They were making their brilliant, suicidal escape from Stalag 487B, aided by a handful of operatives who had come to their rescue. Most of them would have survived had the Kríerstatón opened its gates. For reasons unknown, it did not. Some said it was retribution, for their recklessness in Jumanota. Others pointed at a falling out between government and corporations in Jumanota. Anatolyevich suspected the Golden Throne still believed there was a chance for peace. If they thought otherwise, they wouldn't have been caught cold in Holy Panooly.

When they were offered the chance to return, this time to set up base in the satrapy, the contractors were quick to agree. Krasnova had been ripe with contracts during the second war, and with more where that came from looming over the horizon, Krasnova was something of a cash cow. The opportunity to set up shop in-theater was a lucrative one.

The conflicts in Krasnova weren't the only revenue streams available to mercenaries in the area. There was always New Empire, where ongoing rebellions and insurrections tested too thin of a contingent of imperial soldiers. That was some of the worst combat the world had ever seen, but that kind of warfare made for good money and the mercenaries flocked there when the Golden Throne waved its purse about. And if not there, then perhaps in Greal or in some other corner of eastern Greater Díenstad, just waiting to go off like a powder keg next to an open flame. With demand high, it made sense to supply. And why not make it cheaper by expanding operations to a more centrally located hub? The 'Tarn of the East' was how Anatolyevich described Rubino, when he first presented his plan with the Duma. They didn't take much convincing.

Indeed, for these same mercenaries agreed to take on the defense of the satrapy for deeply discounted rates. Even in rebellion, although in these parts thoughts like those were best kept to one's self.

Why Rubino? They could have easily been sold land out of Pezlevko. But Rubino was not enjoying the same prosperity as its sister city. Mercantile wealth trickled to it last. Best to give it its own teat to sip from. With the little money the satrapy had, it bought imperial lands — which they had claimed in large quantities as part of the terms of the treaty — around the northern city. They re-sold it, making a loss, to the mercenaries. They'd more than make up for it in taxes and in services rendered. Thousands of men and women would flock to Rubino in search for contractor work, and they'd drain their pockets in local bars, clubs, and supermarkets. Rubino would grow rich.

Anatolyevich smiled as he closed the last folder. The world was troubling, but perhaps he could navigate the newborn satrapy through the incoming storms to better things.

[Mokastana]

Red Square Apartment complex
Vostok
Union of Eastern Star Soviets
OPERATION EASTWARD +.5 Hours

Carefully, Mikael slid the primer into the charge. His steady hands putting the final piece of the homemade explosive into place. This would be only one of several needed for next week’s operation, but they had the time to ensure everything was right. Two of his men were already out, doing recon on the Kremlin used by the Soviet Council. The stone walls would do well to keep the battle contained, and with Mikael's trucks, they could bring heavy guns inside to support the attack. Already one ‘loyal’ officer had agreed to aid them, whether it was the suitcase of money, or his concern regarding how long until he was purged, or both, it didn't matter. What mattered was that he could close the roads and send in a force to raid Secret Police HQ.

The Operation would be billed as a Military Coup. Mikael and his team would attack the Kremlin, the bribed officer would attack the Secret Police headquarters, and then they would both use explosives to level their targets.

During the confusion, an Eastern Military Deployments strike team would raid Red Army HQ, take it over and issue orders for the Political Officers to surrender to their commanders. They would then broadcast a promise, under RSU military leadership foreign aid would return, along with a government that supports its army, without Commissars or purges. Army units loyal to the Polituburo would respond, of course, but without orders and a broken Commissar Corps, why shouldn't they join a coup that gave them all the power?

At least, that was the plan until the scouts came back. The Kremlin had gone on lockdown, shutting the gates and securing the entrances with elite forces. It seems, the Kendrov regime, backed by the Ordernites, had begun hostilities all over again. Mikael swore out loud, his entire plan was undone by a fascists idiot who had no goal but burning down the country he couldn't control. Mikael would have to find another way to plan a coup, and fast. The last thing Mikael wanted was a good outside threat to unite the country behind the Politiburo.


Farmland outside of Chernaya
Approximately one year ago

Pigshit. This place smells like Pigshit. Ganbaatar scowled as he unmounted his horse and his heavy boots landed deep in the mud. The spring thaw had done its best turning the frozen ground from an unbreakable barrier into a beast, pulling down on anything it touched. With a loud “schulk” for every step and annoying clicking sound, Ganbaatar walked towards the farmer’s home. A lucky fellow lived here, for his small thatched roof house was undamaged, despite the years of war. Today, he would be blessed even more so. For today, Ganbaatar came to visit him.

Dressed in animal hides, sword at his side, and human skull decorating his cap, Ganbaatar looked less like a general and more like a medieval barbarian. His soldiers didn't help the aesthetic, dressed similarly but with far more mud and less bones. The only visual clue of modern times would be the rifles slung over their shoulders, binoculars and headgear more advanced than any nomadic raiders should have.

Every soldier that Ganbaatar passed dropped what they were doing and saluted, fist over their chest. Even the one soldier who has his hands full of horse reins managed a quick salute while fighting the beats for control. None of them got a reaction from their leader as he passed, the “schulks” and clicks increasing in pace as he moved. There it was a horse drawn sled with a frame, covered by a tarp, protecting its cargo from the elements and prying eyes. From the outside, there was nothing special about this carriage that separated it from the hundreds of other such animal pulled wagons in rural Krasnova. Inside, Ganbaatar saw the shattered end of a long tube, metal bits, shovels and blankets, everything still covered in mud. Unconvinced that this was all, he reached in and grabbed a burlap sack, only to feel the warmth it was giving off. Grasping at it, the hard metallic feel of what was inside excited him.

“Bring up the box!” he shouted as he stepped back, pulling the geiger counter from his pocket and hearing the device's clicking spike in warning. Behind him, two soldiers brought up an old looking trunk, but inside, lead lining would seal the container. Moving quickly they picked up the sack that Ganbaatar pointed to, and threw it in the box, and locking it up and tossing it back into sled. The two men then turned back to their commander, seeing the questions in his eyes. Speaking quietly in Kysetian, one answered their leader:

“No, they don't know what we found. He just thought it was a missile that crashed. Damn thing buried itself into a hillside and collapsed the snow bank on itself. The fascists didn't even bother looking for it. The farmer didn't disturb it all winter until he heard we were offering bounties for found munitions. Even then it wasn't until one of his bar friends came back with our gold did he finally contact us. They know we found something, but not what. What shall we do with them?”

Ganbaatar made the men wait as he thought it over. It was true, many bounties had been paid out, to ensure cooperation with the locals. Old rifles, dead tanks, anything of value and the locals made a few gold coins. If the local Kysetian warlord paid for the minor things, then he would pay for the bigger finds. It had worked so far, soon they were finding full weapon caches abandoned by either side, the soldiers that left them killed long ago.

But this... This was an unprecedented find. Was it better to pay them, and let the locals think there was nothing special about this find, or kill the family, and let the locals think that the farmer had something truly worth their silence? Once again, the farmer got lucky…

“Pay them, two bags, like we do with anything else useful. Don't want anyone to think we found something important here. Dead farmers raise questions.”

"Yes sir." Tossing the box into the back of the sled, they turned to find the farmer, still under armed guard in his house. Today, he got lucky once more.


Downtown Chernaya, UESS claimed Territory
OPERATION EASTWARD +1 Hour

Ganbaatar rode his horse through the streets. The sounds of explosions every few minutes tore through the city, some distant, some closer, some in the air, some shaking the ground. Cruise missiles, Ganbaatar recognized the tactic and, more importantly, the sound of missiles striking targets. They would be targeting “key” targets, obvious buildings and camps. Luckily, Ganbaatar had anticipated such, and had numerous fake camps, dead satellite dishes set up to look operational, and numerous other false targets. It wouldn't protect everything, but it might save a few.

In a park his men had set up a command center, bringing out big boxy radios and running antennas up the sides of trees. A few others were being set up around the city, establishing control of their areas and double checking the sewers. Phone lines and runners would be making use of those soon enough.

“WHAT IS THE SITUATION?” He shouted as he jumped from his horse and propelled himself towards the officers gathered around a table. They turned and gave a quick salute before beginning with a quick briefing:

“Fascists Army units attacked the line this morning. From what we heard the serfs collapsed and scattered. Three makanas have moved up to reinforce the front, but Commander Lavr is suggesting they fall back to the outskirts of the city. Local Commisars aren't letting their men fall back though. Zvezdan Army headquarters was hit, so it falls to us to organize the defense.”

“It was always going to fall to us. Send for the highest ranking Commisar we can find. Bring them here. We’ll get the Red Army fighting properly soon enough.”

A few hours later…

Ganbaatar paced around the basement that became his headquarters. Information had been coming in about foreign strength, and by now his own missile batteries had been firing back. Downtown was safe for the moment, but the battle would continue in the air for some time as both sides sent up aircraft to harass the other side. The attack was smaller than he anticipated, but that didn’t mean it was the only attack.

“Your failure to fall back cost us six infantry divisions in the first hour. Those that lived are now either dead, prisoners or scattered to the wind. How do you plan on holding the lines?”

“Those men were traitors, they collapsed under their own fear.”

The Commissar stood proud and defiant of the Kysetian warlord. Even out here, he was the will of the Party. His word was law.

“Those men aren't fighters, you didn't bring fighters to this war, you brought peasants with guns. My men are fighters, they knew to pull back to the outskirts of the city where we could protect them.”

“Your men gave the fascists the roads to this city! If you won't hold the line then I'll find someone who can!”

The Red Army officers looked back and forth between the Commissar and the Warlord, even the Warlord’s staff looked up from their work, wondering what would happen next.

“Are you threatening me? Commissar?”

“I am informing you that New Impen will not tolerate weakness.”

“Weakness? Then why are you here? You're Commissar Corps were once feared, but now you're just mass murderers who shoot men who know nothing of war, you have no influence here.”

“You Traitorous sc-”

In a second, everyone saw the Commissar reached for his pistol, but Ganbaatar’s knife was quicker. Flung from his sheath, the knife stuck the Commissar in the gut, collapsing the Political Officer as he fumbled for his firearm. Ganbaatar was on him in an instant, sword drawn and ready. The Commissar’s gun went up and just as quickly the sword came up. The Commissar's hand went limp as the blade cut into his wrist. A scream as he fell back into the wall, sliding down. His good hand holding the bloody wrist together. Ganbaatar reached down and picked up the Commissar’s pistol. Already his men had drawn weapons on the Red Army officers.

“Gentlemen,” Ganbaatar turned to the officers, “The Commissar Corps has proven incapable of leadership. Bring me your Commissars for reassignment. This city is mine, and it's about time you all realize that. Does anyone here disagree with me?”

The Officers looked at each other, before shaking their heads, “No Sir, this city is yours.” one spoke up.

“Good. The Communists have tried to rule us in fear for too long, as have the Fascists, but there is another way. Emperor Fedor of the Golden Throne rules the land just across the border. Over there they prosper, while we eat shit and die of dysentery. Chernaya will ask to join Fedor’s empire. We have oil and fighting men, if they refuse our offer, well, we'll have to prove our worth.

If you all want to live, get me your Commissars. They will fight on the front to show your men the fighting they demand, if they fail, execute them, just like they do to your men.”

To emphasize the point, Ganbaatar thrusted his sword into the dying Commissar, ending his life, finally.

”Dismissed.”

[United World Order]

Harbor of Sterlya, Sterlya,
Krasnova, OP EASTWARD +2.

Sterlya had seen no real effect of the nuclear annihilation of the Datosk Port on the other side of the mountain range which was in part in saving Sterlya from fallout. Thus the Harbor was safe for daily operations and the 32nd Flotilla of the Kriegsmarine had now made landfall no less than a day after hostilities had recently broken out on the war-torn island. Transport vessels cluttered the Harbor has workers and laborers alike had their hands full as thousands of men and their equipment made there way off their ships and onto land. The 32nd Flotilla had been off the western coast of the island for the past week in preparation for landfall during the opening of hostilities, they had been secretly dispatched along side the more well known deployment of the U-Boat Flotilla that was mobilized in response to Castillian threats of attacking Ralkovian and Ordenite shipping. Alongside their deployment was the 70th Flotilla which had landed before they did in the Fedorograd Harbor within the Pezlevko-Rubino Satrapy which had come to fruition during the 2nd Krasnovan War. Three hundred thousand of the Wehrmacht had been landed there, mostly comprising of the Ordenite Heer and two divisions worth of the Waffen SS. Despite the fact that most of the beginning offensive into the Union would be done through the Krasnovan Army and Armed Forces, the agenda at hand for the Fourth Reich had made it necessary and key that Ordenite military forces be in country as soon as possible once hostilities broke out once Operation Eastward commenced which it did. And with the 32nd Flotilla came the three hundred thousand who would make landfall in Sterlya, among them would be primarily divisions that had lived through the carnage of the 2nd Krasnovan War such as the 44th, 51st, and 78th Panzergrenaider divisions along with the 67th Panzerdivision whom most of these had been rebuilt and rearmed after the devastating conflict and were now back in the same battlefield.

Columns were already making their way up the main high ways towards Ivanovka where from there they would head further towards the east just before the current front lines near the outskirts of the soon to be besieged city of Chernaya. The Krasnovans after breaking through what was no less than an army of peasants poorly equipped and with no morale besides their Commissars who made sure desertion was not an option and that neither was retreating which would have saved over six divisions worth in the following hours of the beginning of the assault, these divisions were swept away and broken by the hard pressing Krasnovan Army and militias that were getting closer and closer to enveloping Chernaya whole and it's defenders. It was not to say that what defenders remained weren't putting up a fight, despite how desperate it was looking several villages were still contested as hard fighting bellowed on and was developing into a slug fest. The enemy soon enough had began to strike back with missiles of their own which was making the fight the Krasnovan aligned militias tougher with every salvo the enemy gave them. The generals who were to represent the Wehrmacht high command in country were already meeting with fellow Krasnovan generals in the capital as they looked over reconnaissance and intelligence reports along with real time information from the front lines as they planned and discussed their next moves. Six hundred thousand Ordenite soldiers were now in the country already and the Kriegsmarine off the coasts were already concentrating their numbers for giving ground support through their aircraft and arsenal at hand.

Former Ordenite bases and the like left over from the previous war that were untouched since and had been unmolested during the war were now being put back to use and were made operational again. These troops would filter through them as they moved towards the front lines and as they were told would be soon preparing to help the liberation of Chernaya, once again the appearance was kept to look like Chernaya and would be the main thrust of the offensive, while forces arrayed around Yukar and neighboring the Steppe would act as the actual main thrust of the current offensive. The opinion of many of the Krasnovans to the arrival of Ordenite soldiers once again was mostly neutral and or sympathetic as they were regarded as helpers of their liberation and that the Reich and Krasnova had a strong bond of friendship and in getting rid of the decaying communist menace to the east once and for all. Where the columns went the people followed as they lined the roads throwing flowers and the like in celebration of their return. The more religious prayed for their safety in battle and for the future of the island and their homeland, much of the Orthodox faith were very much sympathetic with the Fourth Reich and their common enemy in which was why the Reich still to this day held a base of supporters and sympathizers within the island.

[The Macabees]

Fryatov, Satrapy of Pezlevko-Rubino
The tempting balance between lust and necessity.

"It truly is an honor to have you here so soon, Kríerlord," said Roman Anatolyevich idly, as he stared at the low, rolling hills that stretched out toward the Eastern Frontier. They had been on the road for quite some time now and the conversation had been scarce. It seemed as good as anything to say.

Daryl Novelle snorted. "Spare me your false honors. I know when my presence is unwelcome."

The satrap eyed him warily. Would he report that to the emperor? The Macabéan's tended to be people of their word, but they had their traitors too and there was something about Kríerlord Novelle that whispered foul to Anatolyevich. Perhaps it was merely the man's breath wrapping around his throat that discomforted him. It did not make him feel good to know that he was a mere lordling who danced at a puppet's strings, despite that being what he was. He would have appreciated a more respectful discreteness from the men the emperor sent to his extend his Will. But that was not how things had turned out after all. "Your arrival was convenient, to say the least," Roman said after some time.

"Purely coincidental," agreed Novelle. The man was not a liar, that much had to be said. All the same, obscuring the truth behind the tendrils of ambiguity earned just as much of a man's distrust. Like a snake he was, sure to bite, but slow to show its intentions. "It's almost as if it weren't," the kríerlord said with a wry smile.

"Almost as if it was, I suspect," said the satrap. "Alas, the more the merrier, I suppose. The Kysetians are proud and, thanks to your master and mine, now strong to boot; the weight of the empire will be needed to restrain them, I fear." It was true. Some had begun to wonder whether the Kysetians could even defeat the imperial garrison, behind the thick walls and minefields of their bases. That was if the empire's coin stopped flowing into Kysetian purses, of course. Such a double-edged sword that deal was, thought Roman. A rabid dog sold itself for exactly what it needed to become a threat, and yet it was men like Novelle who thought themselves gods of the mind for having conceived of such a solution to the constraints of the agreement that ended the last war. Now the horsemen rode on steel beasts made of thick armor, the kind that could survive the child games that peasant armies played. And until the satrapy had a true army of its own, that's all it could play at, mustering nothing more than an insurgency.

Novelle looked at him with cool eyes. "They will accept the emperor's decision, one way or another. One way or another," he repeated.

"I was not aware that the emperor made Pezlevko's decisions for it," was Roman's sardonic answer. It was a petty thing to say and he hadn't been thinking. It was with concern to foreign policy and national security where the satrapy's sovereignty ended and the empire's iron fist began. And this was certainly a matter of foreign policy.

The kríerlord simply chuckled and sighed, his eyebrow rising in that grievously pretentious way of his. Novelle's head turned to look back out the window, even if all there was to see was the rolling green hills of eastern Pezlevko-Rubino. Out there, ranchers herded their cattle and farmers toiled under the sun, which beat down heavily upon the earth like a golden-yellow beam. Few looked to watch the three-vehicle convoy on the highway. It was not an atypical sight, after all the Ejermacht made regular patrols and it was not uncommon for the Kysetians to drive by on their way to the Frontier. This one looked like just another version of the same.

They approached the town of Fryatov in silence. It lay only a dozen kilometers from the Frontier and not so long ago had been but a mere village of peasants, no more than one thousand. Now Fryatov was flowering into something that was coming dangerously close to a sprawling complex of military bases. Thousands of low-rising buildings clustered around each other in the center of what looked like a hurricane of brown, ugly brick and concrete. Hundreds of these, if not more, were the barracks where the Kysetian soldiers lived. The others were administrative buildings, warehouses, and the accompanying shops and restaurants. Those who could afford it lived near the bases, in smaller apartment buildings and houses that formed a ring around the center like a membrane. The others — tens of thousands now — lived in the surrounding shanty towns, whose size dwarfed even the expansive collection of contractor barrack complexes. Roman once heard that the plebeians' tents were liable to catch fire and spread, quickly.

Still, they came in at even greater rates with every passing day. It was an exploding local economy that Roman should have been proud of, he knew it, but he could not ignore the hundred-thousand-man army that also knew only how to grow. It made the satrap nervous. Those were a hundred thousand men more than he had. Why was it he who always had the smallest army?

"They are impressive, are they not?" With the suddenness of it and the fact that the kríerlord had not even deigned to turn his head toward him, Roman was not sure whether the man was talking to him. When the satrap did not say anything for some time, Novelle said, "They are skilled warriors. I have heard that they each one is worth a hundred of the militiamen in the eastern badlands. A fairytale, as most of those stories tend to be, trust you me. Still, a formidable class of men, don't you think, Your Lordship?" The sly smile and arched eyebrow had returned to his face, that irritating look of insulting arrogance. Your Lordship. Roman hated the title; as satrap, he had become imperial aristocracy, cast into its swamp of politics. A burden more than an honor, and an allegiance that he did not truly feel in his heart.

"I have fought in wars. They bore me," answered Roman, cool as a cat caught against the wall by a dog.

The man actually laughed. "Come now, they don't scare you that much, do they?"

"Soon, things in the east will settle," he said. "A cruel kind of peace will befall our eastern brothers. They will be swallowed by one dictator or another, and only a harsh sort of order can put those hungry, armed peasants down. Call it communism, call it fascism, it's all the same." He thought of the Ordenite army that had passed through only weeks earlier. "What will your Kysetian army do when there is no more reason to raid across the frontiers? They will be as much your problem as mine."

"They will do what all armies do," replied the kríerlord. "They will fight. What, do you worry that they will overthrow you? For goodness' sake, no," he continued, barking a laugh. "You forget my armies."

"You mean the emperor's armies, surely," quipped Roman.

And the Macabéan raised his voice to answer, "His Imperial Majesty has entrusted me as his warden in the Satrapy, those armies are as good as mine." It was as if he had only just noticed how loud he had gotten when his eyes widened ever so slightly and ever so instantaneously, and his voice lowered. It was still stern, though. "Besides, I suspect your Kysetian problem shall soon be exported anyways." He did not elaborate on that.

Both men fell silent as they entered the town. Children ran beside their vehicles as they passed through the outlying ghetto. Close lines hung from almost every home, the line connecting with the building opposite, clothes of every color hanging to dry like patternless rainbows of cloth. Long blocks of houses, which were just as often tents as they were actual structures, were broken up here and there with marketplaces packed with bodies. Kysetian contractors kept watch with black rifles in hand. They seemed to be relaxed, but attentive and ready to strike all the same, the way that veteran soldiers tend to do. Many of those who lived in these parts worked for them in some capacity; it was the merchants, the sellers, who paid for the soldiers, of course. Scattered amongst them were armed men of a different kind. They looked more like thugs and they made up the militias that claimed to keep the peace and enforce a sort of law here, and they were paid — it was not wise for one to not pay them their due when the time came to collect, lest one was fond of broken legs and shattered arms. Roman had once been told a story by a duma councillor of two small boys strung from a bridge that crossed one of Fryatov's many streams, as a warning to the father for refusing to pay armed men who came to collect in the middle of the night. He had chased them away with his hunting rifle and look what good that had done. Such was the price of peace.

It angered Roman that he could not even protect his own people. State police only went as far as the twin capitals and stopped very quickly as one went into the countryside and rural townships. Only the highways between Pezlevko and Rubino were well protected, patrolled regularly by Macabéan beast borne infantrymen. They received little trouble. But the Macabéans did not patrol the oft-dirt paths of the impoverished villages nor the gray cobblestone streets of the towns, allowing them to often ran lawless...or worse. It was such a problem that it was not the first time the satrap considered hiring the hordes' makanas to enforce the rule of law on the steppes.

As they passed, Roman saw the faces of the people of the ghetto. They were hollow, with bags under the eyes as dark as night, most with sickly thin arms hanging from equally substanceless bodies that screamed of malnourishment. The markets were new, and even they were not always well stocked, and these lands had seen starvation in the past. It was an atrocious reminder of the long way that his country still had to go.

The three-vehicle convoy soon passed into the middle membrane of Fryatov, where civilians of at least some means lived in progressively nicer housing as they moved toward the center. Dreary apartment rises that looked ready to collapse gave way to better ones and, at the very end, there were signs of luxury. High-ranking officers lived in these parts. Then it became an ocean of barracks buildings and training facilities.

Ahead, gates opened without prompting. The kríerlord was never made to wait or prove himself; the satrap wondered whether he'd get the same treatment and decided he did not want to know the answer.

Here entire makanas marched or ran in unison down broad, well-painted streets as the convoy of visitors drove past them. In the days of old one would expect to find fires scattered across an army's camp, but here instead of fires it was training yards where officers drilled their men. Here and there, behind the forest of living quarters, Roman could see young Kysetians exercise, brawl, and train in their personal grounds. Rarely more than a hundred were together at any one place, even in training. That was how they were, even before the fall of Red Star Union, fiercely independent and loyal only to their makanas, exclusionists of others of the same horde and clan even.

It was not much longer before they arrived at their destination. Plain military installations soon revealed the gems of the base's administrative center. It had been built from the remnants of a long-abandoned town's worth of old monasteries to an ancient god now forgotten. These buildings had been restored, and beautifully so to say the least. Rising two-to-four stories tall, they were colonnaded along each wall on every level and these columns supported flowing roofs that sloped like the spine of a serpent. The seams ended with stone gargoyles that looked like the heads of some scaly fire-breathing beast. Bronze gilded pedestals wrapped beneath multi-color tiled roofs that glittered in the sunlight. Standing above the rest was one building in particular, built in similar style except for the great greened and ridged bronze dome that came down to marble walls carrying great figures of the past made of the same stone. It was a stunning creation, and to think that this was something the Kysetians had finished building only a few months ago, rather than the centuries its opulence suggested.

Roman knew not whether to marvel at the palace or to fear it, for within its walls met the Khural. This was the Palace of Yangihessar.

Their vehicles stopped at a gated courtyard that stood before the domed-palace. Armed soldiers awaited them, part of the Khural's two-hundred man honor guard. "They await you inside, Kríerlord. Satrap," nodded the man who opened their door before escorting them up tall marble steps that led two a massive double bronze door pocked with tiered inset squares that made them seem heavy and strong. Another guard opened them as they approached to reveal an interior that was as magnificent as the outside. Intricately painted fresco-covered walls protected by colonnades flanked them as they were taken deeper into the compound of the Kysetian lords.

Finally, they arrived at another set of double doors which, when opened, gave sight to the deep, stepped pit of the Khural's chambers. Two hundred men representing the two hundred clans of the Fryatov hordes sat on cushioned marble seats, dressed in the long, flowing robes of the elder wisemen. If they had been deliberating something before, they were so quiet now that Roman felt the compulsion to scream to see how loud his voice could echo.

The Kríerlord and the satrap walked to the center, a circular floor at the bottom where guests made their arguments. The clan chiefs towered and imposed above them, so steep was the incline of the chamber's ringed steps. Novelle looked at the satrap as if prodding him to begin. Roman should have known that dog would make him do the deed. And so he did, "Gentlemen of the Khural, I humbly come to communicate the decision of the Satrapal Government of Pezlevko-Rubino regarding the incorporation of Chernaya and the surrounding territories. As determined by—"

"Your decision, you mean," said one of the seated clan chiefs. Roman recognized him. Chekhov Yelisey Mikhailovich, the Butcher of Grodny, Tyrant of Uzlomkhovo, was well-known to most. He had terrorized southern Krasnova even during the old days of the Red Star, whether in service of the government or not a fickle matter.

Roman smiled. "Mine and the Duma's, Honorous Chief Mikhailovich," he answered. "A Duma to which the Kysetians send representatives to, and so a decision of your own people, as well. A decision backed by His Imperial Majesty of Fedala." He looked back at Novelle when he said that, but the kríerlord stood silent.

Mikhailovich looked about to retort, but another chief bruskly cut in. "And what is that decision, Satrap?"

"It has been determined to reject the annexation proposal," said Roman, after some pause. The room suddenly grew with conversation, as chiefs turned to each other to deliberate between each other. The man who had last spoken, Azarov Kliment Yakovich if the satrap was not mistaken, lifted his fat, corpulent body to rise and hush his peers. Slowly, the chamber grew quiet once again and Roman continued. "It has been deemed that an annexation is attached to far too great of a risk of war with the Ordenite Reich, an event that few would hardly gain from and where most stand to lose quite a lot. However, the annexation of Chernaya was not just territorial, it was cultural, and neither I nor the duma is willing to turn down our brothers across the Frontier in their time of need. All Kysetians who seek a home within the borders of the satrapy will be eagerly admitted, all."

"Fuck your decision!" exclaimed one of the seated men with a nasty voice. The man looked side to side and then turned back to see those sitting behind him. "We should cross the Frontier ourselves and take what is ours! How many times have we raided those lands? What army could stand in our way? Brothers, it is time to take fate into our own hands. It is time for Kysetia to rise once again."

A great cheer rose from half of the room, while the other half stayed quiet. It looked like there was disunion within the Khural, which Roman took note of. Others were rising to make statements of support and some looked as if they were ready to leap up and march to the Frontier then and there. What had the man said? To take back what was theirs? He realized that the Kysetians weren't speaking of annexing it, they were taking of taking it for themselves, of independence. That was a sentiment in need of immediate squashing. "And the Wehrmacht? Will they fold too?", Roman pronounced with a raised voice to overcome the noise that had befallen the chamber.

"Kysetia shall rise!" shouted a man far above them all, well to the back. Roman could not see his face.

"It shall not." The room went silent and went cold, like the steppe during a frigid winter night. It was Novelle who spoke, his voice grave. He had said nothing up to now, but he was a known man, the extension of the emperor's Will, a man who could make any outcome a possibility. The respect he commanded irked the satrap and, in turn, it only angered Roman that Novelle could make him feel that way.

Yakovich looked at the imperial lord cooly and said, "I mean no disrespect, kríerlord, but if the Satrapy is not to annex Chernaya then surely the empire has no concern with who does. What could it care whether it was Ordenite, Kysetian, or anything else? Other than by favoring us. Our people are friends and allies, after all."

"Alas," replied Novelle, the sparkle of imperial arrogance in his eye and the gravity of his tone suggesting the discussion over, "His Imperial Majesty has concerned himself."

"Is this all you've come to tell us, lapdogs of the emperor? That we are to drop our pants and bend over? You could have spared yourselves the trip." That was old man Chapayev Kirillovich of the Askuzai clan, by now no less than eighty years old going by his pruned skin and raspy voice. His back may have been bent down beneath the burdens of age and what were once muscle-bound arms may have been thin and weak, but his voice commanded legions and in his prime he could have rallied the Kysetian hordes to war on a mere whim, that was the influence he possessed. His words stung like the tip of a sword. Many of his peers grumbled their agreement.

Roman stepped forward. "Actually, there is one more thing. The cross-border raids will end. Effective immediately."

Angry murmurs resurfaced. The old Askuzai chief's face was as readable as stone. "Very well," was all he said.

"Bollocks!" the Butcher of Grodny, who had stayed quiet since his last outburst, shouted. Others yelled out consenting opinions and most were most visibly unhappy, their faced longs and some curved in anger. "Raiding is our livelihood! What do you mean us to do?" He slammed his fist on his knee and had his legs been any smaller he would have most likely cracked his leg open, that was how hard his fist had struck.

The satrap shrugged. "I suppose," he started, "you'll need to find another way to make a—"

"The raiding will end. That is. There is no alternative," interrupted the kríerlord. All eyes turned to him. "But worry not, you shall not starve. All hordes are promised an equal-value contract with the Imperial Bureaucracy for combat services in the United City States. And you are encouraged to train recruits from the Kysetians who will accept the offer of asylum. Fear you not, war is everywhere and your services are in need now more than ever." That was what Novelle must have meant by 'exporting the problem.' It was a surprise to the satrap, but a pleasant one.

The Butcher snorted in derision. "Fuck your contracts. We belong on the steppes, we rule the steppes." His brown eyes burned fiercely and he stared with curled lips, like a growling dog. The rest of the room had grown very quiet again, some wide-eyed and others suddenly uncomfortable. One simply did not speak to a kríerlord like that. Eyes went from one and then to the other until they all collectively landed on Novelle and stayed there.

To his credit, Novelle remained cool. He had that arrogant smile of an imperial lord on his face again, with arched eye and a half-smile. Roman was no friend of the Macabéan's, but he hoped that the man had a retort. If the Kysetians could insult a direct representative of the emperor, who else would they dare to confront? No, the Kysetians had to be kept in their place. The silence was heavy, broken here and there by an awkward cough. Finally, "You are mistaken, Mr. Mikhailovich, His Imperial Majesty of the Golden Throne Fedor I rules the steppes. Nor does it matter. The raiding will end one way or another, or do you pretend to raid across the Frontiers when it's the Wehmarcht you'll face? And what do you think His Imperial Majesty would do if your made enemies of the Reich? If you are a political liability, why would he keep you around? Thus, I implore you to reconsider my offer. Should you want to return to herding, you are welcome to follow your life's passion. For those of you planning to make a living at war, you will find the United City States quite accommodating to that lifestyle."

Mikhailovich, the Butcher, did not respond, but his eyes smoldered. The other chiefs sat silently with disapproving stares. Finally, the old man, Chapayev Kirillovich of the Askuzai clan, said, "The Khural shall inform you of its decision regarding the proposal. Now, if you have no more business to state, you shall leave now. The Khural must consult."

Roman was about to ask what they were going to consult about, as they had no say in the matter. But the kríerlord spoke first, "Of course...the Khural was must deliberate." That half-smile was on his lips then.

They both hesitated before leaving, not wanting to look too eager to leave, even if out of spite. The Kysetians had gathered a boldness that made them dangerous. As they returned to Fedorograd, the kríerlord turned to the satrap and said, "I shall have half of our garrison camp at a new base here in the east. The Kysetians will know who rules them."

"The Satrapal Government, of course," answered the satrap.

That mocking smile was still on the Novelle's face when he said, "Of course."

[N.B. This post will be periodically edited for spelling and grammatical errors, as well as to improve flow. As usual, the substance of the post will not be changed.]

[Mokastana]

Northern Steppes
Central Krasnova/Kashubia/RSU

From Chernaya to Gryaznaya, the empty Steppes had seen its fair share of trouble in the past few years. In the first invasion by the Ordernites, millions fled the region trying to make it to the safety of the East. Those that didn’t were massacred, either to demonstrate Fascist power, or because they were accused of aiding the enemy. Millions more died, or fled if lucky, as the internationalists marched in, capturing and “liberating” what they could, and often for themselves. That war only ended with the great Varathon Blood Fever outbreak, a virus that killed many many more. Another war, more internationalists, and only this time the local government was called the UESS, not RSU. It became almost routine after awhile, every few years, another army would roll over the Steppe. They would burn, pillage and murder their way to the other side, get stopped and wait for the counter attack. By this point, barely seven million people lived in the Steppes and forests around Dubrovnoye, Chernaya and New Impen. It was no where near the population needed to sustain the oil and mining operations that made the central plains wealthy. Though the Union of Eastern Star Soviets claimed to control it for time, the truth was, the Steppe had known nothing but anarchy for quite some time now.

Of the Seven million inhabitants, nearly two million belonged to “independent armies”. Almost any civilian who managed to collect a gun off of a dead soldier could belong to one, but the important fact was that these independent forces were the ones really running the show. It was their guns and technicals that controlled the Steppe, policing, or raiding, it as they pleased. Most fought to protect the unarmed or the weak, but the raiders were always a problem. To combat the problem, the government sent in two million soldiers with BTRs and tanks to act as law, order, and defense in the Steppes, but all they got for it was more raiders. Only now the raiders were armed with the very BTRs and tanks sent to stop them.

Yet, from chaos, comes order and the order arrived in the form of the Kysetians. It was Kysetian Warlords who managed to raid the raiders and destroy their tanks and military goods. For Kysetians preferred their horses and ambush tactics, mounted soldiers with RPGs and machine guns over loud and slow armor. Petrol was still a rare find, with the Kysetians burning every refinery they could, while the Horses fed on the plains.

Not the the government cared, with two million conscripts in the area, they declared it safe, and began their resettlement programs. Nearly 38 million people were forcibly moved from their safe homes north of Susol, and into the Steppes to work the oil fields and mine the ores. Of course, when 38 million new people move into an area with two million armed militias, it quickly became a land of slaves. A new hierarchy was born, with the resettled population at the bottom, practically slaves to their new lords. Above them were the Steppe people, armed or not, for the local militias and raider groups watched after their own. Above then were the militias, and then at the top, the Kysetians.

So when the Fascists charged once more into the Steppe, it was the same shit, different day for the Steppe people, just one more army coming to have their way with them. The fascists captured towns, bases and highways, but the people of the Steppe cared not. Those forcibly resettled tried to resist, either sabotaging their oil rigs or collapsing their mines. As did the red army, for even though many officers had built their own fiefdoms in the Steppes, they knew what would happen if the Fascists caught them in a red uniform. Rather than stand and fight though, many simply burned their crops and little empires, destroying bridges and oil rigs, anything that might have been useful to the advancing army was gone. Then they ran, ditching the uniforms and fleeing into the wastelands, hoping to disappear or, if they were optimistic, make to the defensive line in New Impen. The one advantage to the complete collapse of the front was that in their retreat they enacted an uncoordinated ‘scorch earth” policy. Rather than some central command giving out orders with no idea what was valuable in the field, every little fiefdom knew what values they already had, and took what they could, and destroyed what they could not. Petrol would cease to exists in the Steppes once more, leaving to the horse lords to command the vast plains, and unlike their Red Army comrades, they knew how to fight. Also unlike their Red Army comrades, their loyalty wasn’t strictly to one despot. Many would see which way the winds of war were going, and offer their services to the highest bidder.


Montana Inc Central Dienstani Headquarters
Fedela, Capital of the Golden Throne

On one hand, it was nice to be home. In perhaps the most wealthy city of all Greater Dienstad, Arianna had discovered just how glorious a city could be. Sure, Bogota had the wealth to bring in nice restaurants, fashion, and entertainment, for its upper class, but this city, this was the heart of it all. The sheer variety in culture and influence over the Region the city held was only a window away, every boutique and skyscraper that her limo passed could decide the fate of billions, from what they would wear next fall, to if they would even have a job to afford it. Trends weren't just inspired by the works of this city, this city was the trends. Arianna would have many nights in the coming weeks to enjoy her favorite shops, restaurants and hiking trails, but for now... Now she had to deal with the problem of the other hand.

Red Star Union was once again a war torn mess, only now with half a trillion Universal Standards of Montana Inc assets siezed by the Communists. That conversation with her Uncle had not been a fun one, the communists had worked hard to undermine her and her efforts to keep them in check, and her numerous safeguards had failed. Despite his personal hatred for the Ordernites, Antonio was still a businessman first and foremost. He gave her a simple instruction, recover those assets, or he would find someone who could manage the Center properly.

She thought of the asshole who ran the Motokata branch, probably sitting smugly in his office knowing her fuck up would be his gain. Their branch was stagnant, yes, but it was steady, while Arianna was throwing around Trillions, trying to grow. Her Uncle knew the one thing she hated more that anything else was to be disgraced, so he put her job on the line. She would recover those assets, or find a new line of work.

Luckily, the Unionists couldn't counter every plan she had. A PMC airbase outside of St. Paul, a nuclear reactor near New Impen, Timoctratic Military Contractors, disgruntled Red Army commanders in Vostok, and to top it off, one last particularly unique assert. Something not located inside the former union, but something that could help her bring the stability long needed to turn Zvezda into a prosperous venture. It wouldn't be easy to use, but Arianna had faced worse odds before.

The lead vehicle in her motorcade slowed to a stop, as did the rest. Dogs and armed guards converged on the vehicles, sniffing for bombs or other threats. Her guards were armed, yes, but they would be waiting outside under the watchful eyes of the local security. Finally a uniformed officer approached her window and she rolled it down casually, looking the blond haired man up and down. In another life this officer might have been worth getting drinks with, but for now, there was business to attend to. She handed him the documents she was told to prepare and looked at him over her thick sunglasses.

“Arianna Lomengo of Montana Incorporated, I'm here to meet with the Ordernite Ambassador. I should have an appointment.”

[United World Order]

Ordenite Embassy, Fedala, Embassy Row,
The Macabees.

The flag pole planted into the ground within the premises of the Embassy grounds shook hardly as the wind picked up causing the Swastika flag which was the official flag of the Ordenite Reich flutter in the air. A 11 foot tall fence covered the perimeter of the compound as local security was posted and was present at most times. Most activity was done within the confines of the main structure that made the Embassy, a full staff was present which were made up of local and flown in civil servants. Ambassador Isidor Frauscher was buried in his book he was reading in his down time, It was a novel more so on ancient Macabean history and was currently reading the parts describing ancient encounters with Germanics. The room was relatively quiet and there was a sense of tranquility around Isidor who put down his book and beginning to type on a keyboard. He was drafting a letter back to his superiors in foreign affairs on his status as Ambassador for The Golden Throne, which also meant being involved in talks with other nations not thought of very highly to the Reich and with networking through facilitators in the Golden Throne, the manner in which to discuss diplomacy and other aspects including geopolitical subjects. Several pictures hung on the wall behind him, all framed nicely and mostly photos from his youth during his time in the Wehrmacht in which he served 4 years before deciding to become a civil servant and an Ambassador to a key nation in foreign affairs policy. Isidor had done his service with the Fallschirmjager and so did his Father who a portrait of him with his fellow paratroopers had been hanged right beside Isidor's. Several medals were also delicately displayed within the office of the Ambassador, these being obtained during his military service. Other accolades done by Ambassador Frauscher were also decorated inside the Office.

The sound of vehicles distracted him from his work as he looked out the main window in his Office in which a motorcade had approached and the lead car was swarmed by dogs and their handlers who were security personnel part of the Embassy's security detail. The guard posted at the only checkpoint at the embassy entrance collected the female's documents and looked over them as the lady presented her self as Arianna Lomengo of Montana Incorporated, everything seemed to check out as the blonde haired man looked at the documents then at Lomengo before handing them back.

"Miss Lomengo, Yes you have an appointment with ze Ambassador Frauschar, please continue inside, someone will be there to escort you shortly to ze Ambassador." he replied as he signaled the car through as the gates opened up to allow them through. Ambassador Frauscher looked back at his desktop screen and finished the letter shortly before sending it off and closing the browser just as a knock came on the door. The door opened as a civil servant also blonde haired stepped in first and clicked his heels together before saluting his Ambassador, Isidor returned the salute partially.

"Ambassador Frauschar, Miss Lomengo of Montana Incorporated is here for her appoitment." The civil servant said in his native tounge then allowed Lomengo to enter the office closing the door behind her, the two would meet face to face. Isidor stood as Lomengo entered the office and introduced himself first, "My name is Isidor Frauschar, I am ze Ambassador of ze Golden Throne. I can recall we have much to discuss, please sit" Isidor said as he showed her to a comfortable chair in front of his desk.

[Mokastana]

Downtown Chernaya, UESS claimed Territory


Ganbaatar read over the reports. Oil and natural gas rigs were burning, bridges and refineries destroyed, wells poisoned, all on his orders. Each step the Fascists took into his lands would be further into a barren wasteland. His raiders, hundreds of men on horseback, continued to harass the supply lines of the invaders. Going after trucks and convoys, especially focused on fuel trucks. The lack of petrol in the Steppes prevented the Zvezdans from enacting their will on the land, perhaps the same could be said of the Fascists.

A runner entered his command post, handing Ganbataar a letter. Smiling, Ganbataar approached, only to see the look on the runner's face. Concerned, Ganbataar opened it and read silently his face growing more red with each line. The look of concern transformed as his facial muscles tightened, jaw clenched and eyes widened. Breathing heavily, he turned to the corner of his command post. The bloody pulp that was once a political officer wheezed, trying to protest before Ganbataar swung a first into where a face might have once been. Then another, and another. Each blow wrecking the political officer even further until the even the bubbles stopped forming in the blood, and the fate wheezing ceased. When Ganbaatar finally realized the man was dead, he swung once more as punishment for dying on him. Wiping his hands on a Zvezdan military jacket, he turned to the messenger and his commanders, blood splatter still faintly across his face.

“It seems the Satrapy does not want our gift of a city. If anything, they demand the border raids cease, and and we become their servants, to be packed up and shipped away. Nothing more than expendable soldiers in their wars. The Golden Throne dares to suggest we give up our home and serve them in exchange for nothing. To hell with that! We are Kysetians! Not peasants begging for the safety of slavery! Let us show them what it means to be Kysetian.

Burn this city to the ground, the gas mains should have enough left in them to do it. If the Fascists want these lands, let them have a corpse. Assemble the makanas, call our brothers from across the border. Today, we build a free Kysetian nation. No Zvedans, no Fascists, no foreign thrones.”

“I can't let you do that, Warlord.”

Ganbataar turned to see a Zvezdan General, standing tall, a bead of sweat running down his cheek despite the cold. His fellow Zvezdan officers either took a step away, or looked down and kept quiet. They knew it was best to blend into the background, to be furniture for the warlord.

“And you can't let me do what… exactly? Comrade General.”

“I was charged with the defense of Chernaya, sent here to reinforce you, and protect this city from harm. I was with you when you proposed annexation. But nearly 12 million call this city and its outskirts home. Another 12 million have been resettled here, over 30 million lives rely on this city staying intact. I can't let you sentence them all to death.”

The General knew his words meant death, but living without saying anything was a fate worst than death. He watched the Warlord approach him, ready to feel the blade pierce him, or a fist to break his face, but the laughter. The laughter just prolonged the inevitable.

“Comrade Warlord, I'm going to go organize what forces I can, and we'll protect this city with or without you.”

With that he turned towards the door, expecting a blade, or head lock. He was ready for the attack, but none came. He left the building, surprisingly alive, and began looking for his men to escorted him to his own headquarters. Inside the building, Ganbataar offered for any other officers to leave. Some did, some were too scared to move. When none left took up his offer. He spoke up.

“Good, let them defend this city and keep the Fascists from following us. This city will take months to fall. Even with their peasant armies. We'll even leave them some good artillery to increase their odds.Continue the preparations with the makanas. I have to visit the church.”




Ordenite Embassy, Fedala, Embassy Row,
The Macabees.

“Gracias Señor,” Arianna smiled and allowed herself to be escorted inside, her secretary and security guard close behind. The rest of her staff, which was rather large for a simple meeting down the road, stayed in the parking lot or lobby, whichever was more convenient for the host. She wasn’t here to cause trouble, the opposite if anything, but when you are a key member of one of the most wealthy families in Greater Dienstad, security is a must.

She looked around at the embassy as she followed the staff member, everything from his spotless uniform to shoes shined so well you could almost touch up your make up in spoke to the discipline the Ordernites presented themselves with. They were a strong people, no doubt about that. It was a shame they considered her kind subhuman, but even petty politics and ideology could be put aside for mutual benefits. Coming to a stop, the staff member knocked and the door opened, salutes were exchanged in their foreign tongue, and soon Arianna was in the office of perhaps the most influential Ordernite outside of Berlina. He spoke to her in a common language, and soon the negotiations were beginning.

“Señor Frauschar, es un pleasure. I must admit, Ordernite style is as impressive as is focused. Not a single detail overlooked. Es a good quality to ‘ave.”

She sat down in the chair offered to her, crossing her legs as a lady should and keeping her back straight, but the warm smile never left her lips. Her arms casually rested on the sides, hands together. Her accent was certainly different from her hosts, staying on the tip of her tongue. It highlighted the lighter vowels and the stress in the words, pronouncing ‘impressive’ with a focus on the "Im" and ending with a long ‘eve’.

“And yes, we ‘ave much to discuss. For I believe I can help the Ordernites with something they ‘ave dreamed about for years. Something that may benefit us both. War, for all it’s terror, can be good for business. War salts the earth and wipes the slate clean. Property value becomes almost nada, and entire cities can be bought and rebuilt for a fraction of their true costs. The locals who lived in those cities, lose everything of course, but for the outside investor, es a chance to get in on the ground floor of a new nacion, that has nowhere to go but up. Especially if that nacion has friends with capital, and the desire to see it succeed. Yet, for the process to work, a nacion needs time to recover, a lull in the war long enough for peace to rebuild, before the next war tears it all down.

You watch the news, don’t you Ambassador? So, you ‘ave seen the Zvezdans ruin, every foreign relationship they once ‘ad. The Mokans won’t supply them, and now their financial partners, Montana Incorporated, ‘as been nacionalized. They are, a problem, we both want to see go away. No?

I will get back my company’s assets, one way or another, but I like to plan ahead. Zvezda still has their Susol line, and foreign tanks. They may fill the Steppes with peasant armies but their real military power stayed in the north. I know that, because we were the ones shipping them the supplies to make that army funcion. Now they 'ave our factories and mines. Even without foreign aide for the Zvedans, this war may not unify Krasnova.

But a united Krasnova, from Dathel Port to St. Pyter, well, that might be a good, long term, economic partner for Montana Incorporated. Assuming, of course, that the Krasnovan government is willing to work with us. Since I do not ‘ave a way to contacting them directly, I came to the one man powerful enough to mediate a deal between my company, and the Krasnovan government. Plus, if a deal has an Ordernite seal of approval, that should protect us from Krasnovan nacionalization, and other potential problems, should it not?”

[United World Order]

Northern Steppes,
Central Krasnova,
Main Thrust

Pummels of thick black smoke plumed into the sky in the very distance as Freikorps Panzer units pushed the advance with fellow Krasnovan Army soldiers deeper into the steppes. Resistance had for the most part had been light compared to what those near Chernaya faced. Most of the time they were chasing off retreating peasant soldiers and Red Army units who were attempting to regroup and would result in a short skirmish and the advance continued on through the Steppe and towards the southern coastline. Casualties were light for now as the enemy was more concerned on a full on retreat, however it was made aware to them that they were committing to a scorched earth policy, they had already passed one refinery that was up in flames from sabotage. Villages and towns were left barren and burning which wasn't all so bad in some aspects, the villagers and or towns people standing around watching their homes burn while carting off what they could manage to take with them. In a once bustling village called Pupok which had seen it's fair share of war was now burning as the retreating peasant and red army soldiers torched everything that they couldn't take with them. Craters cut off sections of streets within the village, most were traversed on by traffic normally and now was being traversed by war machines like the Nakil tank who were the main battle tanks that made up Friekorps Panzer and the Krasnovan Army who accompanied them usually in bigger units, at least battalion level and over. A 4x4 light utility vehicle maneuvered around a Nakil before coming to a stop outside of a burned out grocery store. The passenger side door swung open as a man in full Ordenite battle dress stepped out quickly, the officer cap he possessed also had the insignia of the Ordenite SS on it which in the Friekorps stood for officers in their ranks. More members of the Friekorps arrived as well and began huddling around the Officer who began talking to them for several minutes, in the mean while men and material moved through the barren streets of the village. One of the men in the huddle who was wearing a ushanka moved to the street and waved down a transport truck which stopped for the soldier as they conversed shortly. At once the men in the back jumped out of the back one by one with their weapons shouldered as the men regrouped around the corner of the grocery store.

Their was no doubt about it that the Ordenite SS had a bit of sway within the ranks of the major Friekorps groups that operated under a PMC. What wasn't generally known was that the Friekorps do have Waffen SS commanders behind the scenes who help organize and orchestrate the operations at hand. Of course war or no war, the Reich would carry out it's will at any time it pleased. Pupok would be one of the many who would experience this at first hand, their was still some life in the village as some of the villagers were seen walking around the village. Records and data that had been accumulated from the first occupation had of most of the island was still being used to this day to carry out some operations, some of the old intel was still somewhat factual even today. Pupok was known by SS sources as maintaining racially inferior stock and had been meant to have been wiped out before, however it seemed now that fate would actually come for those who remained. The Friekorps acting on orders from the Waffen SS rounded up over 180 civilians who still inhabited the dying village which was still burning hours later. The stragglers were then bound by their wrists and forced marched 2km outside of the village into a dense forest in which they would all be executed by shooting and buried in a large dug pit which would serve as their final resting place. The Officer was still there outside of that grocery store, but inside his personal vehicle lighting up a Prussian cigar in which he inhaled and exhaled smoke. A transport truck stopped in the middle of the street in front of him, someone jumped out the man wearing the Ushanka as he conversed shortly with the Officer detailing their completion of the ordeal.

The Officer and the soldier traded salutes before embarking on their own ways. Overall the main thrust of the offensive was doing what It was meant to do, peasent and red army stragglers who weren't fast enough to get out of dodge of the coming encirclement would meet their fate at the hands of the Friekorps and Krasnovan Army. 15,000 were what the entrapment had caught in it's steel jaws of war as the offensive continued with the hopes of destroying the pocket entirely while still advancing forward with the offensive's overall goal of liberating and reunifying the island completely. The Steppes were alive with war once again as two armies slugged it out on the plains, blood running like streams through it's soil and earth. The entrapped peasant and Red Army units were already beginning to fortify their positions instead of attempting a break out, a risky move that would very well see them be overwhelmed through attrition, a game any Ordenite combatant knew well. Friekorps units would be mobilized and organized into search and destroy groups which would look for weaknesses in the pocket and exploit and cause as much damage as possible.

Outskirts of Chernaya,
Western Steppes,
Central Krasnova.

The battle so far had been a prolonged tug of war between the two warring sides which would drag even longer if neither took the initiative. The Krasnovan Army had become slightly bogged down in some areas along the outskirts of the metropolis which was still standing. They had managed to push forward for 50km almost without stopping and now the logistics were able to catch up and offer refueling and rearming to half tired forces, some who hadn't seen rest in over ten hours. Fresh troops were arriving though, more Krasnovan Army soldiers despite these ones being conscripts they had adequate training and were there to keep the offensive going. Chernaya was slowly seeing its self surrounded on nearly three fronts as the Krasnovans set up outposts and other small lodging areas for those who needed rest and food. Wounded and even the dead trickled through these posts on their way back to field hospitals or the cemetery. The front lines extended north, east and south around the city and fighting occurred in all sectors of the front lines. Almost everywhere you went their was something burning or smoke in the air, the smell of explosives and even human flesh in some cases. A bunker was holding up a certain area of the front lines in which already nearly a whole platoon's worth of men had lost their lives attempting to pacify it. A heavy machine gun and pestering riflemen occupied the bunker, holding down their position they held up hundreds of advancing Krasnovans. Artillery was already falling around the bunker, even some direct hits but the bunker withstood. The barking of the machine gun seemed to be never ending as rifle fire also stood out in the firefight, A Nakil main battle tank approached within good firing distance of the bunker, It's main gun trained right on the opening as it roared and breathed flames as the shell blasted out of it struck the bunker head on as a short plume of smoke dissipated after it's impact. It also peppered it and the surrounding area with machine gun fire of it's own as a rocket passed by coming from the front. The machine gun refocused on opened fire again as the enemy popped up here and there firing more sporadic than before.

The infantry saw their opportunity and took it, advancing on the fortification swiftly as they threw grenades in which produced several explosions from within and a fiery cry. The bunker was stormed as Krasnovan infantry went in guns blazing as the tank shell had killed some of the occupants but others remained. Elsewhere the fighting was at it's fiercest as long range engagements carried on all across the battlefield as heavy machine guns, sniper fire along with artillery and tanks dueled it out. It was no surprise that their were Kysetians among the defenders ranks, Steppe people but wielding a fighting spirit and the experience to match as their people as a whole had fought for generations on their native soil and today would be no different. First contact had been seen later on as Krasnovan units begun getting ever so closer to Chernaya its self, the peasants and Red Army were handed multiple defeats but had bought the Kysetians time to mobilize and prepare for the coming onslaught. Kysetian snipers and marksmen were the bane of the regular Krasnovan infantry, they hid among the high rises and other urban scenery looking down their scopes for the enemy. That enemy being the Krasnovan soldier, soon enough after first contact a whole platoon had been defeated with major casualties suffered to Kysetian snipers and marksmen with their impressive rifles and experience in shooting. Only the numbers would actually change the outcome as Kysetian sniper positions fell pray to accurate artillery fire and even tank fire and Krasnovan snipers.

Casualties mounted as conscripts were met with crack troops of the enemy, the Kysetians were a game changer in the current war and if this battle were to continue with them involved the cost would be devastating to the Krasnovan Army. However a solution was already being put into action as word came from a recently captured political officer who's suicide vest didn't blow told those of importance that the Kysetians were in open revolt against the Communist regime in which land they fought for however Kysetian nationalism was rampant and they were now looking to seek out a home for themselves outside of either government whether it was Ol'hovka or New Impen. The Kysetian defenders in Chernaya had already purged their ranks of Red Army political officers and took command of the Peasants and Red Army soldiers who also fought here beside them. Soon enough a civilian car drove down the main road into the city which was living under siege, the car had a white flag accompanying it as it came to a stop outside of a manned checkpoint where the negotiations would be held initially. Krasnovan diplomats surely enough sat down with Kysetian representatives and began to hash out a deal that would hopefully see to the end of the Kysetian thorn and begin a friendship and mutual understanding of their common enemy. If the Kysetians agreed to the proposal they would see themselves gaining relative autonomy in and around Chernaya in return they would join forces with the Krasnovan Republic and help reunify the island and once and for all remove communism's strangle hold on the people once and for all, It all rode on the decision of the Kysetian delegation.

[The Macabees]

Along the Eastern Frontier, Satrapy of Pezlevko-Rubino
The first crisis; a week following the decision of non-Satrapy Kysetians to defend Chernaya.

Rumor traveled quickly. More quickly here, than in most other cases, though.

The Kysetians in the east had decided to go their own way and declare independence. Suddenly, the situation — which a week ago had seemed so easy, so predictable — was in disarray and one could tell to what degree by just glancing at the Macabéan forces arrayed along the Eastern Krasnovan Frontier. Spread out in intervals, the bases were brimming with activity and, between them, long walls of dirt and dust trailed the dozens of patrols crisscrossing the arid steppe lands. The bulk of the 300,000-man Imperial garrison was deployed there and on high alert, ready to fight against opponents external...and internal.

Brothers do not cower when the other is in trouble. No, they fight. And so the Fryatovan hordes mobilized, nullifying all outstanding contracts and removing themselves from the market. The plan to remove the 'Kysetian problem' was so elegant, so plain that its unraveling ought to have been expected.

A standoff was expected. Soon, over a hundred thousand Kysetians, heavily armed and highly experienced, would gather and they would be restless. More joined their ranks with every passing day. When the Ordenites closed around Chernaya they would want to come to the help of their brothers, striking the enemy in their rear and forcing them to waste resources in a bitter war of hit-and-run attacks and ambushes. The Ejermacht, supported by a weakened fleet group and about a light force of fighter jets, would stand in their way. If the hordes were brave enough to fight, it would be a cataclysmic war for the newborn satrapy. There were no doubts to the empire's seemingly endless resources, but the Kysetians were renown warriors and, where but less than a year ago they mounted horses, now they rode in armor. They would not go down easy, if they were the ones to go down at all.

Roman surveyed the flat grasslands from the backseat of an armored car as he was escorted on a tour of this stretch of the Krasnovan Frontier. He wanted to see it all and so he did, driving along the long string of imperial forts that threaded northwards and then west into the mountains. New fortifications were being built, and some of them already stood and their mighty, well-encased big guns glistened under the tall sun.

Whether this was a defensive system or a prison would depend on how present events unfolded, of that much the Satrap was sure.

It was just as well that Kríerlord Novelle had left once again, headed to Fedala if the stories were true. Novelle never told him much, but Roman's eye and ears reported that the man was discontent with the size of the Imperial garrison. He wanted four times as many men and that only a start! Novelle would not get even a third of what he wanted, and that was if reinforcements came at all. The empire was facing many fires, but none of them were getting the attention they demanded. It seemed as if they were reserving whatever strength left they had in the region for a bigger threat that loomed. Or maybe they expected on fire to explode, so they could not bring themselves to commit to one or another prematurely.

Whatever the case, their indecision was to his advantage, thought the Satrap. It only strengthened his case for taking the Satrapy's defense into his own hands. A few companies had already come to buy lands for future training grounds, and one or two had even already begun construction, but with the war season picking up again it was only a matter of time before they came in droves. Pezlevko would one day rival Tarn.

How long would that take? A "Tarn of the East" would take a decade or more, but even a mercenary force even a tenth of the size could take years. What of the short term? How could he defend his people if the empire turned sour or the Kysetians rose up in rebellion? He did not like this game of placing his faith in other people. But, unless he openly turned against his imperial protectors he could do nothing about. Almost nothing, at least.

He was not allowed an army, but that did not mean he couldn't train one in the meantime.

In the distance rose the tall wire walls of Barbakán 'Kolosus', official headquarters of Macabéan command along the Eastern Krasnovan Frontier. Alongside the roads low-rising concrete pillars rose from the ground like teeth and if one with a keen enough eye looked he would catch the sudden glint of the sun on the smooth metal surface of pillboxes whose firing ports were so narrow that the structures could barely be seen above ground. In the night they must have been all but invisible. In truth, the staff that mattered could be at any one of several other locations — all disguised as best as terrain and technology would allow —, although part of it was here today. No small part, either, for it was the komstrategos himself who had agreed to meet Roman here of all people. A smart man Geralt Glen was, with an eye for a self-improving opportunity if the fruit was hanging low enough. Not an entirely untrustworthy man, and most certainly an officer loyal to his emperor, but if there was no harm in something then Geralt Glen saw no foul.

The three-car convoy bruskly turned off the main dirt road onto a narrower one that led toward a small gate that restricted access to the base. They went through without stopping. Their vehicles had been scanned long ago, verified by chip and with visual confirmation once they had turned onto the smaller road. By the time they arrived the thick boom barriers were lifted high and they were only brought down once all three armored cars passed through.

At first, it was all rows upon rows of barracks, but it was not long before they reached Kolusus' nucleus, as the base's administrative center was called — nuklek in Díenstadi. Soldiers marched in the streets in neat ranks, others ran, and there was more than enough road traffic to suggest that these were busy days of preparation. Roman had been to few other Imperial bases, but it was in the nuklek were things were at their most surreal. He had learned that the most important administrative buildings were rarely built above ground, to make them more difficult to target and harder to kill. Once the cars had stopped in front of what must have been the headquarters itself, he entered through thick steel doors that led to a short hallway that barely extended into the concrete structure at all.

Guards met them inside and these escorted the Satrap and his party to the back of the hallway, where an elevator opened to take them down. They all fit in one carriage and as soon as the doors closed behind the last person it began to descend into the depths of the earth. Roman had heard of the underground cities of New Empire. He knew of the ever-expanding subterranean boroughs of the Golden Throne's growing cities, already bursting at the seams as they were. Never had he been in one, and even this building made him nervous.

One of the guards seemed to notice and said, "What makes it weird is the lack of windows."

Roman arched an eyebrow. "Oh? I hadn't noticed," he answered, hiding his irritation as best he could. "Elevators, huh," he said after some time, looking around him to take the wide space in. "Tell me, what if they're destroyed or damaged in an attack? I would hate to think of all the stairs I'd have to climb to get out of this bunker."

"I suspect, Your Lordship, that if we were under attack you much rather stay inside than leave. Besides, there are independent elevator systems that service different levels. But I very much doubt we are going to be attacked today, as otherwise you would not be out and about." The guard fell silent after that and so did Roman.

Soon the elevator came to a jolting halt and its broad doors slid open, revealing yet another hallway, this one carpeted and with well-decorated walls. Portraits of long-past officers that had at one point made history under the command of this army extended down in a line in either direction and, at long intervals, there were small classical-like pillars that rose below a man's chest to support large pots which carried gloriously colored shrubbery in full bloom. They turned right and then left into another major hallway, this one with doors to four elevators of its own. They walked right on past these, though, and through a door at the very end. This revealed another smaller passageway that branched off into smaller offices and rooms. There people on the phone and typing away at their computers, noise filling the floor. It was a...change from the almost utter silence they had suffered all the way here.

It was a nice change. This building was becoming a little haunting, like the ancient ruin that it would be a thousand years from this moment.

They walked into the back, past small offices with open doors. There were people talking at the door, officers in uniform, who stopped and stood more rigidly as Roman and his party passed by. They nodded at him in respect, as they had no doubt been told to. All of them knew he would be here today, at this time, here to meet with the komstrategos. A base inspection, they were told this was.

Past all of this they walked until they arrived at two big double doors, outside of which stood two more guards. They opened the doors upon the party's approach, and behind these sat the general with an aide by his side at a far-reaching table meant for larger conferences than this one. There was no one else other than them and with the Satrap there were only two others, both of them bodyguards of his that remained outside, as they had been instructed to before ever having embarked upon the journey. When those double doors closed behim him, it was three of them left. The general was smiling.

Geralt Glen was a large man with shoulders as broad as a greatsword was long and arms as thick as an oak's roots. His hands closed around Roman's as he rose to greet the Satrap, "Mr. Anatolyevich, I hope that the trek here wasn't too much of an inconvenience. I know that these structures can be quite...inconvenient." He turned to include his aide, "May I introduce you to Leutkoronel Erak Amvros, my trustworthy aide-de-camp."

"An honor, Your Lordship," greeted Amvros, who was no older than his mid-thirties, if even that. He must have been a competent one. Roman felt for him, for he was surely merely being groomed for command in Gholgoth.

"Likewise," was all that Roman said in response.

The komsargént nodded and gestured toward the table. "Please, take a seat, Satrap Anatolyevich. Anywhere you'd like." He glanced at the jug on the table, water condensation on its silver façade dropping cooly onto the table's surface. The aide, Amvros was his name, went to pour a third glass full of water and he placed it in front of Roman as soon as the Satrap sat down. The general took his seat where he had been sitting before, right next to the leutkoronel, who had not stood at all. Roman took the glass and tilted his head back, taking a substantial gulp. Finally, when the glass of water was set back down, the general, with sad eyes, solemnly said, "Tough days are ahead of us, Your Lordship."

"Indeed," responded Roman, it is why I am here. And surely, why you yourself are here. I can only think that what we are about to do today either one of us would only do under the circumstance of emergency, as the one we are in now. I have no doubt that you are a loyal general and I hope that you do not doubt my own loyalty to His Imperial Majesty."

The man managed to bark a laugh. But he quickly grew serious again. "Do you know how many warriors the Kysetians plan to raise?" asked the general.

"How many?" responded Roman. He had an idea, as all men of importance in these parts did. They could raise over a million soldiers if they felt threatened enough to do so, and if he believed in God he would most definitely pray that this didn't happen. But, surely, they would soon have at least two hundred thousand men, perhaps three hundred, enough to match the Imperial garrison. Maybe even more. The thought of it chilled the Satrap. How many mercenaries would he had to invite in to match their number? How many mercenaries could Pezlevko take before the force became too unwieldy, too likely to follow profit over contractual loyalty? It was a dangerously sharp blade that he was balancing on. All the better that this meeting was taking place, thought Roman. If if happened any later, he wasn't sure there'd be reason to have it at all. Not if war came first.

"Half a million." Roman's eyes grew wide, but the general barely gave a hint of emotion. His voice was...logical. It was just a number to him, as if it were inconsequential. He wasn't sure if that was reassuring confidence or blind arrogance. Maybe the emperor was sending more troops to the Satrapy after all. Or maybe Geralt Glen thought himself savvy enough to defeat a numerically superior enemy with an infinitely superior handle of the local terrain.

The Satrap was sure the man's intelligence was sound. It was the empire that provided the Kysetians with the contracts they needed to prosper. It was their demand that swelled their ranks. They knew the Kysetian forces well, helped to arm them in fact. "His Imperial Majesty has agreed to bolster the Imperial garrison, I gather," he said.

"Maybe." That was all the general would reveal about that. So far, the aide had not spoken a word. "You asked me, Mr. Anatolyevich, if I was loyal to my emperor. I am, and do not forget it. My help only extends so far, be sure of that. But as of now you are a convenient ally to have and, if war comes to us, it will be equally as convenient for your people to be armed. We will need all the bodies we can get. Whether our enemy turns out to be the hordes or the Reich, we'll be in for one hell of a fight. It's only in support of the Emperor Fedor I, Willed be His name, that I agreed to your query."

Roman looked into the general's light gray eyes. He was not Díenstadi; not Macabéan Díenstadi, at least. Blue-eyed, blonde-hair marked them, the most notorious of the Macabéans. No, the general was from somewhere else, another corner of the empire. Sarcanzan perhaps, if his dark skin was any indication. As loyal as he may have claimed to be, it was that alone which spoke volumes as to why he was here. It was only just over a decade ago that Sarcanza rose in rebellion, taking advantage of the succession crisis. He must have been a mid-ranked officer then, long-time commissioned in the Ejermacht. Not much older than Amvros, in fact. He must have chosen the right side if he had risen to command an army. Loyal he must be, indeed. Roman took him in a different light now, more intrigued about what the general truly thought, nodding and saying only, "Of course." He took another sip from his water glass, placing it back down after.

"I take it the Duma is on board with your idea," the general went on. "If so, I am surprised to see them grow such a backbone."

The Satrap silently growled at that remark. The general was most likely referring to the duma's predisposition to pass every piece of 'advised legislation' the emperor sent their way, not knowing the sacrifices Roman made each and every time they did. Sometimes those sacrifices worked to his advantage. The opening of Pezlevko to the mercenaries was one. Liberalized gun laws would be another. "I am as surprised as you," he answered. "Alas, they saw the wisdom in revising our gun laws. In less than a week any man or woman will be able to procure an armament of their own, as many as three. And only weapons sold by the Satrapal Government of course." Not that he had sufficient police to stop someone from buying more, especially outside the twin capitals.

"Good, good," said the general.

"If I may ask, Komstrategos Glen," said the Satrap. When the other man nodded, he continued, "The emperor, what would he think of our...arrangement?"

Suddenly, a tea kettle started to whistle loudly on a tray against the far wall. The cart itself was mostly covered, but it must have been covering a plug or carrying some sort of battery, for something had been warming that kettle. Regardless, the leutkoronel rose and walked over, lifting it and pouring its dark contents into three small teapots. They were on a platter that he used to carry all of them to the table, distributing one to the general first, then asking Roman, "Tea, Satrap Anatolyevich? It has come fresh from northern Theohaunacu. They say it is the richest black tea in all the region."

He nodded and the man handed him one of the teacups. He left it on the table to let it cool off. Steam still rose into the air.

It was not the general, but the aide who answered his question finally. "The emperor entrusts his generals to make important decisions on the ground, as long as they are for the good of the empire. I believe all three of us agree that this follows the general gist of that rule, enough to make this somehow not treasonous. Still, I am also sure that none of us would like word of how this transpired to reach His ears. Pray to Fortune herself that it will not."

Geralt Glen turned to his aide with a flat stare, but not one of disapproval or disagreement exactly. He agreed, clearly. The general turned to the Satrap and followed with his own words, "I'd like to think that if His Imperial Majesty were in my shoes he'd do the same. But, he is not and I am the one making the decision. And I shall let you know now that if any of these weapons are misused I myself shall deliver the emperor's wrath upon you, mark my words." It was a serious threat. But the general's suddenly stern face soon turned all smiles again. "Now, let us get on with this meeting. There are placed I must be."

"Do you have what I asked for?" the Satrap inquired before raising the teacup and taking a sip.

The general turned to Leutkoronel Amvrose. The younger officer turned a sheet of paper over to read off it. "Eleven thousand two hundred and thirty-four captured assorted rifles. Twenty-three thousand nine hundred and thirty-six assorted handguns. Five thousand four hundred and sixty-seven shotguns. One thousand one hundred and thirty-two captured grenades. This is the first order. A second order will be delivered in sixty-two days. Your requests for rocket-propelled grenades and other heavy weapons could not be fulfilled." Amvrose was looking at the Satrap with green-eyes that enshrouded him in mystery.

A smart man the general was. He was arming them to be cannon fodder, not building an insurgent force. "Very well," said Roman, who had no recourse to get more than he was already given, anyway. "I thank you for what you could provide, as it is certainly more than what we have now. And the universe knows we will need them soon."

The aide punched a few keys on his laptop and turned his head to the general. "Payment confirmed. You are an easy man to work with, Your Lordship," he said, looking at Roman when he said the last part.

The Satrap took another sip of tea, and then another, finishing it. "As all businessmen should be when it comes to doing what's right. Alas, all the better that this goes smoothly. Like you, I am a busy man. Besides, your men must be wondering what we are talking about for us to be sitting in here for so long. It is time to begin the tour of the base, I'd say."

"I will not be able to join you, unfortunately, Your Lordship," said Amvrose. He extended his hand and shook Roman's. A piece of paper was slipped from one palm to another. "I am needed elsewhere. Overseeing your delivery, to be precise. I hope we see each other again soon, and under different circumstances."

As soon as the leutkoronel left, Roman left with Komstrategos Glen back out through the halls to the elevator he had come down in. For the next two hours, he would be driven around Barbakán 'Kolosus' to see the installations and meet the troops that were garrisoned here to protect the sovereignty of the Satrapy. Sovereignty. That's what they called vassalage. When it was all done and over with, on his way back to Fedorograd, he took out the piece of paper that Amvros had given him. Unfolding it, he read the words written on it slowly, smiling. He crumpled it back up and placed it back in his coat pocket.

[United World Order]

Ordenite Embassy, Fedala, Embassy Row,
The Macabees.

"Yes I have zeen what zhe Zvezdans have done to your company's assets. They have become a thorn in your zide, and we are willing to help zolve the problem." Isidor said as Lomengo brought up current events with the Zvezdan seizure of Montana Inc assets, nationalizing them. The negotiations were in full swing now as Lomengo started presenting her offer which was basically allowing Montana Inc to regain it's assets from the Zvezdans and be able to remain on the island. A "seal of approal" she called it as Isidor listened to her. "Approval from the Reich Chamber of Commerce can be guaranteed and Krasnovan nationalization will be the least of your worries. So long as the island is reunified under the proper government of course." He replied as he waited for what Lomengo had to say next.

Yukar, 77th Heer Armee Barracks,
Krasnova Republic, Krasnova.

Laborers moved back and forth with materials and tools as construction for expansion and renovation of what was now the 77th Heer Armee Barracks which would be home to over 157,000 soldiers of the Ordenite Armee. The barracks which were really a entire base camp for the 77th were already built long ago and were able to house most of the men and their equipment however others had to create temporary shelters of their own until further expansions were made, however they made do. The railway system despite being heavily damaged during the last war had been nearly rebuilt in the lull within Krasnovan Republic territory, with the other half expanding out to the east being cut off in the aftermath of the Red Army pushing into the Steppes. After a week since the arrival of the Ordenites through Fedorograd and Sterlya, the 77th Armee was quickly transported through rail over the next week to Yukar and were now settled in their base. Action had been slim to none as the Ordenites did not engage in the current offensive being done by the Krasnovans and PMCs who were also Ordenite, which drew some want to get involved early however the commanders were under strict orders to not advance within 200km from enemy positions. The only units being utilized in the current conflict were reconnaissance troops who happened to also be special forces which were being used in deep reconnaissance missions against the enemy to the east. Most of the soldiers of the 77th Armee were simply making themselves at home within their barracks and mentally preparing for whatever orders they may be called upon to do. Their was talk of possibly being actually deployed to the steppes behind the already advancing Krasnovans.

Elsewhere the 54th Heer Armee had been deployed to their own barracks outside of the de-facto capital of the Krasnovan Republic, Ol'hovka to be exact. It was here that a select few were informed on a covert operation that not everyone was exactly informed of. The 90th Panzergrenaider Division had been selected almost at random by the Oberkommando des Wehrmacht to participate in a operation that would seize control of the capital and preform arrests on several high profile government officials of the Republic government including Viktor Kendrov. The patriarch of the Republic and the puppet of the Reich at least in the beginning he was, however with the results of the 2nd War that had changed with the Republic shutting down relations with the Reich, and Kendrov beginning to ease up with his once iron fist policies which was a concern to some within the Reich. It was then decided in several secret meetings within the Ordenite national government and the OKW that the Kendrov regime needed to be sacked and a more favorable figurehead needed to be put in charge. The plan for disposing the current Krasnovan government was relatively simple and would be done swiftly before resistance or opposition could be poised. The Krasnovan Military was already a cooperating culprit in the coup as well as several high ranking generals had been persuaded and paid order a stand down with the Ol'hovka garrison and other forces that could be used to resist a seizure of the capital and government. The 90th were already assuming positions relatively in the outskirts nearest to the entrance they would take to enter the capital.

[Mokastana]

Outskirts of Chernaya,
Western Steppes,
Central Krasnova.

Ganbaatar sat in the negotiation room, waiting for the Krasnovian diplomats to arrive. He still wore the metal helmet and animal pelts of his combat gear. Although he was still armed, he had tea prepared for the meeting and even a few slaves standing in the corner. Their Zvezdan Army uniforms marked them as high ranking Political Officers, but the collars and chains told a different story. At least they were recently bathed, so that their smell wouldn't offend the negotiators.Yet no bath could get the stains and tears out of their once proud uniforms. What was once a source of pride, was now their shame, for their existence was now to only be a trophy, and serve as a footstool. Ganbataar had one slave doing as much when the delegates arrived.

Kicking the slave away, Ganbataar stood, soon followed by his supporters. The few Zvezdan and Kysetian Officers that sat behind him, ones who knew which way the winds were blowing and joined the most powerful local faction. The slaves knew their place and bowed on the floor, silent and unmoving.

“Welcome to Chernaya my friends. It is my understanding that you are here for the cause of peace?”

Once greetings had been exchanged, Galbataar poured tea for his guests and himself. Not wanting a dirty slave to ruin the ceramic or beverage with their touch. He made a hand motion and two Kysetian soldiers pulled ropes into the room, at the ends of both, were bloody Zvezdan Military Officials, one a high ranking General, the other a high ranking political officer. Pulled to the ground they stayed balled up, less the whip crack once more on them for looking at either the Krasnovian or Kysetian officials.

“First off, allow me to present a gift. These two servitors were once high ranking Officers for the UESS Military. This was the Political Officer in charge of Chernaya. Unfortunately his subordinate thought he could tell me what to do, so I had all the Political Officers of the city removed. I am sure you will have plenty of uses for him. This other General, he thought he could keep Chernaya fighting after I announced these negotiations. He wanted to kill more Krasnovians, I wanted to see what you had to say. Please, do with them as you wish…”

Galbataar laughed and took a sip of the tea, before focusing on the Krasnovian delegates:

“From what I've seen so far, you offer us our freedom to build a Kysetian home in Chernaya, if we aid you against the communists. An alliance, is this correct? I like it, but I must ask, how can I trust you will keep your word? The Zvezdans offered us some autonomy before, then they filled our lands with their troops under the guise of ‘protection’. Then when the war started, their generals tried to tell me what to do and take over my lands. They wanted to make me a Communist like them, but we are not communists, nor are we fascists, we are Kysetian. All we ask for is our home, our autonomy, and a chance to fight at your side in this war and the wars to come. Open the border with Pezlevko-Rubino so that our brothers can join us if they wish, and so that we can join them in their future contracts. We respect the Krasnovian military power here, but I know of your village raids and mass murder. Do not make the mistake of trying that here.”


Ordenite Embassy, Fedala, Embassy Row,
The Macabees

Lomengo smiled, she loved it when a deal with smoothly:

“Trust me Señor, this war will be quite short and soon enough we will be able to ‘ang whichever flag you want over Vostok. So, tell me more about your… Reich Chamber of Commerce...”

As the negotiation continued and the details ironed out, things happened thousands of Kilometers away. In the port city of Saint Paul, a large fleet of transport ships arrived unannounced, escorted by mercenary naval forces hired in Tarn. On the decks and in local bases, military units went on high alert, scrambling to positions to ensure that these ships were met with all the resistance that the Union of Eastern Star Soviets could throw at them. In the Naval Headquarters, the commanding officer got dressed and walked into the war room. He knew what was about to happen, and he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. To be sure things went smoothly, he needed to take command ASAP. The general announcement only just now been released, but this commanding officer knew that the fleet was on it’s way. They had arrived on time at least. His Political Officer was no doubt scrambling to get to the Command Center, but he would have his own problems.

“Have forth and six Companies clear the docks.”

“Yes Admiral.”

“Send Ninth Company to clear the roads between here and the docks, with Second reinforcing the Command Center.”

“Yes Admiral.”

Second Company wasn’t the best, but it was the most loyal, and in this move, he needed the loyalty. First Company was also loyal, leaving him with a group of Officers who were in on the plan. With the two Officers of questionable loyalty out issuing orders. The Admiral could deal with the Political Officer. Within minutes the doors opened, and he walked in, demanding answers.

“Have we informed Vostok of this incident, are the missiles ready to fire, can we eliminate them before they arrive?” The Political Officer demanded.

“I have orders to allow them to land,Comrade Commissar”

“Land? Are you insane Dimitri? I have seen no such order…These are Capitalists threats, we are already expelling most of their kind from this land. We do not want more mercenaries in our country, THAT is the orders from Vostok.”

“I am sorry Comrade Commissar, but I have my orders, do you wish to countermand them?”

The Admiral passed a document to the Political Officer, who read it quickly, before losing the anger on his face. Turning much more serious, he looked up, sighed, and spoke quietly.

“This orders are… close. Very close to the real thing, but your authorization codes were copied from two other previous orders. I recognize them as General Order 118 from last week and Order A54 from earlier this year. This... this is treason. Yet, you knew I would recognize the codes were wrong, didn't you?”

“Yes, Comrade Commissar, I had a feeling you would. Unfortunately, the Officer purges made a lot of us second guess our positions. We lost a lot of good commanders because they simply chose to buy foreign goods our government sold. We need better. We will get better. As long as no one gets in our way.... Commander Stukov, please arrest the Comrade Commissar for treason. He clearly chose to ignore the orders from Vostok to institute his own Nationalist Agenda. He has abused his role as Political Officer, give the current crisis, I order his immediate execution.”

“Never!”

The Political Officer drew his weapon, but the Admiral’s men fired first. Soldiers rushed in only to be told the tale of how the Political Officer refused to follow the orders from Vostok and took it upon himself to seize command. Waving his pistol around he demanded they betray Vostok and attack the much needed foreign aid. Not wanting to start another war, the Officers drew their own weapons and a shootout resulted in the Admiral retaking command. The death of the Political Officer would be kept quiet for now, at least until the reports could be sent back to Vostok. Reports that would be never sent.

Meanwhile, on the docks, Zvezdan units now began to assist the Timocratic Mercenaries as they unloaded their weapons and gear. Bringing the first and final stages of the coup into the country. Lomengo would have her assets back, and she would deliver her coup, just as promised.

[United World Order]

Outskirts of Chernaya, Western Steppes,
Central Krasnova.

Five men showed up for the negotiations between the Kysetian warlord and his Army in Chernaya and the Krasnovan Republic. Four were actual Krasnovans and one was an Ordenite. The republic was represented by a civil servant from the Krasnovan government regarding it's foreign affairs, two were Krasnovan generals who currently are leading the current war against the Unified Eastern Star Soviets and another was a well regarded member of the Krasnovan Orthodox Church. The Ordenite who also accompanied them was also a civil servant who was here on behalf of the Reich's own foreign affairs. Of course these five did not come alone and just outside were several Krasnovan soldiers who were their personal bodyguards and were instructed to remain posted outside. It came off as rather odd when Galbataar presented the delegation with two Zvezdan officers who were considered their 'servitors' and most likely were slaves before now. One was a political officer, a high standing one and the other a simple Zvezdan general. Before Galbataar continued one of the Krasnovan diplomats arose from his chair and shouted for one of his bodyguards outside, a knock came at the door and when opened stepped in a Krasnovan soldier with a shouldered rifle. The diplomat pointed at the two Zvezdans and the soldier stepped forward and moved them outside and shut the door behind him. When the diplomat sat down, a single gunshot rang out which no one inside was particularly alarmed about as they knew what happened.

Gabaltaar continued without haste as he came forward with some of his grievances and speculation on the subject of their autonomy that was going to be granted to them. The Krasnovan civil servant then responded in kind.

"You have nothing to worry about regarding your planned autonomy. No troops whether Krasnovan or Ordenite will be stationed within your land once this deal is official. All we would like in return is your support, the Kysetian people's support in our war to rid this island of communism, for good. At this very moment the border with Pezlevko-Rubino is in the process of being opened for everyone, we need unification, not more borders. "

Ol'hovka, Duma of Krasnova,
Krasnova.

The Duma of Krasnova which was the main legislative body of the current Republic stood firm in it's current structure which was the former local Communist Party headquarters. The flags of the Republic flew high on this day as the Duma was currently in session as they were to meet on new legislation regarding the drafting of new immigration policies for what was to be a eventual lifting of former restrictions on immigration to the country. Over 200 legislators made up the Duma and all were in attendance for this, however what they did not expect was what was happening outside. It did not take long for it to happen and when it did most were caught by surprise or simply did not act. A convoy of armored personnel carriers and transport trucks filled the main street outside of the Duma as Ordenite soldiers quickly disembarked and advanced towards the steps of the building its self. A few of the APCs blocked off the entrance and other ways in or out of the area as other soldiers remained posted around the area to ward off anyone that was too curious. A full platoon of men entered the Duma its self as security inside immediately stood down in the presence of fully battle dressed Ordenites toting assault rifles and other small arms. They cleared the entire building, fanning out to cover about every inch including the main hall where the legislators were currently in debate when the main doors swung open and Ordenite soldiers filed inside to the shock and dismay of the Krasnovan politicians. One of them stood out among the rest of the soldiers, he came in nearly last behind the rest of the men and wore a officer's cap and was in a more crisp ceremonial like uniform those common with some officers. A machine pistol in hand he headed upfront as he moved the Speaker of the Duma out of his way and took front stage in front of them all. The chitter chatter and overall protest from the legislators went quiet when the Officer aimed his gun to the ceiling and let off a short burst of 3 rounds.

Silence overcame the legislators as they dared not speak another word in fear of the Officer's warning. "Attention, attention!" the Officer started as he lowered his machine pistol, talking in average Krasnovan for a Ordenite who was semi-fluent in their tongue.

"You're all under arrest as of right now, the Duma of Krasnova and it's function as part of the Republic is now void." This sparked utter outrage among the legislators as all of them seemingly stood and roared in protest as the Officer stood with his machine pistol in hand. One of the more abrasive legislators stepped up to him almost within striking distance as he spit while he spoke. "Who do you fascists think you are?! The Republic will not stand for this shit!" those were his last words as the Officer who felt spit on his cheek raised his machine pistol and fired a burst into the legislators gut. The man dropped as the Officer who was now pissed off shouted over the rest.

"You will be detained or you will be shot, that is an order!" The surrounding soldiers began detaining the legislators and moving them outside into the court yard where the rest of the Ordenites were. Ol'hovka was in the process of being fully occupied by the 90th Panzergreinader Division with the local garrison of Krasnovan Army soldiers assisting in the transition. Across the de-facto capital, Ordenite soldiers begun rounding up and detaining prominent Republic government officials with Viktor Kendrov being kept for last. Civilians soon enough began to fill the sidewalks and streets as they took in what was going on around them, most did not intervene in what was going on as some even went about their day as if nothing happened. Soon enough the Ordenite soldiers arrived outside of the Office of the Premier which was where Kendrov himself was currently in a meeting with some of his top advisors. Oblivious to what was going on until it was too late as he happened to peer out of one of the only windows in the room, seeing Ordenite Army soldiers file into the building.

"What the hell is going on?" He said before the door burst open as several Ordenite Army soldiers entered followed by an Officer. That officer was no other than Major Burkjard Bayerlein who stood at almost 6 foot 3 and on his Officer cap was the insignia of the Ordenite SS.

"What is the meaning of this?! What are you doing?!" Kendrov said in broken Ordenite as his translator was not with him as he surely wasn't prepared for what was going on. Burkjard shut the door behind him as he took a seat in the last empty chair with his men standing behind him. He looked at the men sitting around him, shock on their faces and then at Kendrov who was sweating profusely.

"Viktor Kendrov, We are here to serve your arrest order on behalf of the Reichsfuhrer himself." he started. "Your days as the Premier of the Republic is over, and so is your Republic." he continued and cut off Kendrov before he could even mutter a word. "Don't bother speaking any further, we are not going to kill you. You are just being removed from your place of power, that we put you in. Remember?" he said adding insult to injury. Kendrov looked at Burkjard with fire in his eyes but did not speak. Burkjard then had Kendrov and his cabinet removed from the room and arrested as the Ordenite Army had successfully secured the Premier's Office and other government buildings in the capital. Thus bringing together the early framework for what was to become, the General Governorate of Krasnova.

Die Amt für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten von Vereinigte Weltordnung

To: International community in Greater Dienstad.
Subject: Establishment of The General Governorate of Krasnova.

---

For nearly half a decade the island known as Krasnova has been divided between two local powers. The country had previously been under communist rule for several decades and only recently was able to appreciate some form of liberation from their oppressors. Now after all the blood that has been shed over this island and the patience had with those of the volksgennossen. The General Governorate of Krasnova is hereby proclaimed and will hold government authority over the entirety of the island, including the Zvezdan penninsula under the decree of the Reichsfuhrer or otherwise known as Special Order 48C

- General Governorate of Krasnova or Generalgouvernement für des Krasnovschen is hereby a sovereign entity part of the Greater Ordenite Reich.

- General Governorate of Krasnova will hereby be divided into Reichskommissariat West, Reichskommissariat East, and Reichskommissariat Zvezda for general administrative purposes.

- Civilian law will be at the sole discretion of the General Governorate. Other government institutions such as the Krasnovan Republic and The Unified Eastern Star Soviets are considered null and illegal.

- Further administrative divisions will be solely left up to the Reichskommissariat's regarding local districts.

- Those who qualify under the Berlina Race Accords will receive a new form of citizenship as part of the Greater Ordenite Reich.

- The Kysetian-Chernaya Autonomous Free State is hereby established.

- Open borders are hereby established with the Pezlevko-Rubino Satrapy.

[United World Order]

Hello Mom, I'm Writing You A Letter.

Highway 528, 200KM outside of Kokshlovo,
Eastern Krasnova, "UESS Occupied Zone".
Warriors of God militia army lay siege to Kokshlovo under Warlord Arkhip Fedorov the proclaimed "Cannibal of the East".

Kokshlovo was one of the main cities that was considered the industrial heartlands of the Steppe. It provided millions of jobs working in factories, steel mills and general production based careers. In the aftermath of the 2nd Krasnovan War in which the former Ordenite occupiers had been expelled in the treaty that ended the war in which in turn, the Red Army swooped in as their enemies left and occupied the area all the way to Chernaya before being stopped by resistance from the Krasnovans themselves. Kokshlovo was thrown into anarchy as people were being abused by their new occupiers, women were sought after frequently for the desires of the occupying Red Army which started a still well functioning prostitution network throughout the city. Collaborators with the former Ordenite led regime were hunted down and summarily executed for high treason against the rodina. A Commissar attached with the 47th Tank Army quickly assumed control over the city and the surrounding area and within several months was already building a reputation in leadership as rumors quickly spread that his enemies were captured and taken to him where Fedorov personally kills them and then eats them. Others told of martial law having been enacted in the early weeks of Arkhip Fedorov assuming control, the Red Army was quick to back his taking of power in the city. Thus making him one of several warlords that ruled the Steppes and other areas of eastern Krasnova. The city had been generally untouched for the mean time as the Krasnovan Army and it's allies pushed through the Steppe edging closer and closer of course. A population of 30 million within the city proper along with 50 million living in the adjacent areas outside the city its self. However this has been dropping steadily as concerned citizens decided to evacuate, or at least the ones that could evacuate.

It was in the middle of the night that the first phase of the operation to sieze Kokshlovo from it's Warlord, Fedorov the Cannibal. The plains just outside the metropolis were alive with Krasnovan armor as Macabean military vehicles surged forward in the night towards the south, south-east and south west. About an entire division was spearheading the assault on the city's sprawling outskirts which was also urban and likely crawling with enemy soldiers. The first contact between the two opposing sides would occur when Krasnovan armor edged closer to the first trench line which was likely one meant for skirmishing with their front lines or to ward the others of a ongoing attack. A sitting LY7 Rottweiler tank on the highway facing outwards to the plains caught a lucky hit on a armored vehicle as it was stopped dead in its tracks, smoke was deployed before the personnel made a run for it if the enemy tank decided to fire again. Flashes erupted in the dead of night as soldiers from both sides opened fire on each other, Macabean and Lyran armor clashed on the plains as explosions occurred every few minutes as the combat got intense. Artillery boomed from both sides as the war had made it to the steps of Kokshlovo, The first trench line was still holding and already casualties were mounting on both sides but especially for the attacking Krasnovans. This was when the artillery really made its presence felt as rockets fell on top of the defenders, counter battery fire was constant as the attacking Krasnovans attempted to break through the trench line where their enemies hid and fired on opportunities.

Several Rottweilers were already taking heavy fire and some had even been immobilized but were still stationary targets and were still firing. Macabean nakils in all their glory returned fire on their enemies as the slug fest continued between the tanks. The infantry continued to skirmish as both sides could possibly end up being bombarded by the other, some advancing was done on the Krasnovan side as small units attempted to infiltrate the trench system. Hand to hand combat ensued when they were able to actually get into the trench system, although it wouldn't be long before more were able to penetrate parts of the trench system. Two hours had passed since the assault began and the first trench system had mostly been pacified by the attacking Krasnovan militamen and more followed. The Red Army were now massing at the 2nd and third trench lines which was where the rear guard was as they tried to counter attack. Mortar shells began to rain down as explosions kicked up dirt and smoke through a no mans land that was 500m separating the two sides from each other. Heavy machine guns were brought up along with other heavy weapons. The volume of fire going either way was intense as the battle started to pick back up again, more armor rolled forward from both sides as the battle escalated further and further. Burning and immobilized tanks and other vehicles began to litter the battlefield as infantry was scattered about as well as fighting raged across the whole front lines at the outskirts of Kokshlovo.

The Krasnovans continued to advance their way closer to the second trench line under heavy fire as they dodged bullets running from vehicle to vehicle for cover. The Red Army soldiers continued pouring fire on them as Commissars kept the soldiers in line and fighting. Krasnovan artillery was soon called in as 155mm artillery guns fired salvo after salvo at the 2nd trench line and whatever else was around it as booming explosions nearly shook the very ground that was under their feet as artillery rounds came in. Huge flashes of light occasionally bloomed out of the night as artillery rounds made their marks on the landscape in a devastating way. Counter battery fire was nearly immediate as shells went out from the opposing side. Some of the shells were able to splash shrapnel into the 2nd trench as several of their men went down, the Krasnovans who now had another two divisions joining in advanced again as they fired at the same time keeping suppressing fire on the enemy. The first wave of Krasnovan Nakils finally sped over the 2nd trench line as infantry followed behind and filled the trench and around it. The armor continued on as the infantry regrouped as the Red Army defenders shifted to adapt to the swift advance of the Krasnovans. Casualties were mounting as the battle progressed and medics began to fill the battlefield as they scouted for still breathing wounded to cart off to a armored ambulance. The dead littered the plains as bugs and birds picked at their corpses, the smell of death was certainly in the air around the city as the battle was just outside for those still inside the metropolis.

The city was slowly transforming into a fortress as the Red Army garrison prepared for a long siege. Trenches in the streets were being carved out by conscripted civilians with pick axes and jackhammers, sand bags were being offloaded by the truck load as they were used in creating firing positions and other fortifications. Places of ambush were being made for the approaching enemy as mines and other dangerous obstacles were being devised throughout the city. Red Army armor were positioned as static weapons in prime avenues of fire against the enemy and where they would advance from and to. The fighting in the urban environment was being made to be just as costly as the battle raging in the outskirts now. The warlord was held up in his "palace" that he had claimed for himself with his most trusted bodyguards and generals as they strategized in hiding. Actual Krasnovan Army units were also participating in the battle for the city, three entire divisions were given for the siege on Kokshlovo and as dawn was rising for most of the country. Another chapter of the battle had begun as aircraft belonging to the Krasnovan air force flew overhead, guided general purpose bombs fell over the battlefield that was assumed to be occupied by the Red Army. Anti-aircraft fire now ensued as aircraft dodged and outmaneuvered missiles and bullets, although not all were so lucky as some were caught and shredded as they plummeted to the ground. Red Army AA units were having their effect on Krasnovan air power as additional strafing and bombing was pulled back until the AA threat was eliminated. Highway 528 as of where the current front lines were as of this very moment were now opening paths into the city proper of Kokshlovo as the entrances were heavily defended with a pair of Lyran Dire Wolf Heavy tanks guarded them with their menacing cannons facing towards the enemy, other tanks were positioned near by.

Corporal Arkady crouched down at the concrete barrier that sectioned off the exit into Kokshlovo's suburban district with others from his platoon. Nakils were already rolling by behind him as their tracks squeaked as they moved at a steady pace followed by other wheeled vehicles. The platoon lined up along the barrier with some spacing as they looked out towards the sprawling suburbia and the skyline of the city too. Smoke was rising in the distance as with all of the artillery falling, it was expected the city its self would take some blows. Several of the armored vehicles were already taking the exit towards the residential district, distant gun fire and explosions, the atmosphere of what was to come was very archaic to say the least. Arkady had joined with one of the many militias that now made up the Warriors of God after the second war which left much of the island devastated from what occurred in the aftermath of the war with the Red Army seizing the eastern portion of the country save for Tuktar which was to him and his comrades illegally occupied by the Morridanes. He had experienced on and off skirmishing in those days with the Peasants that the Red Army had protecting the border, in those times things were simple and loss of life was less of a factor than now. However Kokshlovo was looking to be his first taste of actual combat and war that many before him have witnessed and even died for. His platoon leader, a 2nd Lieutenant by the name of Bogdan looked through a pair of binoculars with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"These fuckers have got the main ways into the city blocked by those tanks." he cursed even though he was a devout Orthodox, war would change that certainly. "The rest of our company is trying to find a way through for the armor, but it's not looking like we have any other choice." he continued as he took a drag and blew out smoke as he talked. The men around him looked towards the highway just as a pair of Nakil's on the bridge with them opened fire with their cannons, aiming for the waiting enemy tanks. Bogdan ducked as their cannons fired as he turned around and shouted some variety of insults the men around him had no understanding of. He waved to the men around him and along the bridge to make their way down as to not be caught in the middle of the engagement. Just then a round fired by an enemy tank below flew over head as the platoon scattered to get to the ground level. Additional Nakil's were under the bridge as well returning fire on the enemy as well, starting a fierce tank engagement. Arkady and others had ran off to the right to the closest off ramp, others had ran to the left to the one on the other side. Before they were completely down the ramp, Arkady looked back at the bridge as he saw the others heading to the off ramp on the other side just as a flash of light hit on the bridge followed by a rumbling explosion. Debris and a thick smoke flushed the area around the bridge as it had collapsed on top of the Nakils that were under it, leaving a slewed wreckage of tanks and rubble. The firing stopped at least for now as Arkady was rushed by a fellow comrade to keep moving.

[United World Order]

Na Pole Tanki Grohotali

South-West Front, District 5, Kokshlovo,
Stepnaya oblast', Krasnova.

South-West Front was comprised of 4 infantry divisions from the 3rd Motorized Rifles Corps which was the main order of battle for the Stepnaya Oblast or 'Steppe Region' as it is labeled for administration purposes. The 40,000 odd or so infantry made their move on the south-west of the South Front which struck first comprised of the Krasnovan Orthodox militias, which made up over 5 divisions dedicated to the south front. The South-west of Kokshlovo was comprised of District 7 which was made up of a sprawling residential area with factories to the north where much of the population went to work. The city's factories were all but shut down as many of them were converted into fortifications, with infantry waiting in the shadows and around corners for the Krasnovans to enter their trap. Alfërovka street would be the sight of the first engagements of the fight on the South-west front, an entire Krasnovan Army battalion advanced through adjacent streets and alleyways. The Red Army and their peasant soldiers laid in wait for their enemies to come near, a anti-personnel mine goes off as a cry is heard. Coming down the street, several Macabean-supplied armored vehicles arrived in the area as they halted, their automated machine gun turrets scanned the area for potential activity. Once the ramps dropped the infantry came filing out of their vehicles as they took positions off the actual street.It was not long before mortar fire came in around the battalion as they sought cover. Dirt and debris flew up into the air as the mortar rounds fell and exploded, shrapnel shot out looking to kill or mane anyone near by. The battalion split into their companies as they began advancing up the street in the face of periodic mortar fire. Distant spats of gunfire kept the men on their toes as the next bullets could be aimed at them if they didn't keep their wits about them. Macabean-supplied armored vehicles split with the battalion as well, as every company got at least one or two armored vehicles to accompany them. A apartment block is crawling with Red Army defenders who have set up machine gun nests on the upper floors, the windows are blown out with the edges covered with sandbags which were utilized for cover as well.

Machine gun fire peppered the streets the Krasnovans traversed through with the apartment block in question in their sights. Four men would fall as the accompanying armored vehicles opened fire with their 30mm cannons eventually smoking out the firing position. More mortar fire greeted them as they continued advancing, the 4 divisions began to advance from the south-west in a sweep hoping to surprise and overwhelm the enemy further inland. The entirety of the 3rd Motorized Rifles Corps was was soon enough getting into the fray with the Red Army and their peasant conscripts. Trenches tore up streets and sectioned off neighborhoods as the Red Army went on the defensive. The advancing Krasnovan soldiers soon found themselves in battle with their enemies as both sides starting shooting at the other. Mortar fire came in from both sides as explosions erupted every few minutes and even less in more intense engagements. Armored vehicles traversed cautiously as to avoid being ambushed by Anti-tank personnel, the infantry fought tooth and nail for these very neighborhoods as the advance began to slow to a near grinding halt, the urban warfare now taking it's toll on the attacking Krasnovan forces. Wounded were mounting for the militias and the Army, the dead rose as well as the defending Red Army and peasant soldiers put up a gruesome fight. A trench section freshly occupied by a squad of Krasnovan soldiers readied their weapons and aimed at the enemy if they could see them, the light machine gunner opened up first as the rest followed suite. More fellow Krasnovans moved about in the area taking up positions as well to engage the enemy ahead of them, finally what many of the soldiers were hoping for, the appearance of a Macabean-supplied Nakil main battle tank with it's powerful rumbling engine, it traversed the urban battlefield like a predator stalking it's prey. Infantry followed up to support it as gunfire went either way, the fight was on for sure now as windows of buildings seemed to light up, revealing the positions of some of many Red Army defenders.

The Nakil let it's main cannon roar as it sent a shell out which hit and penetrated a first floor office interior. Smoke and debris followed in it's wake as the defenders in the immediate area pulled back as the tank had opened fire. Kirill looked across the street at his fellow comrade who had just crossed only three seconds ago, he made it of course but a bullet had hit the wall behind him. A sniper was watching the approach and Kirill was next to cross. Behind him he heard the tracks of a Nakil as it made it's way down a adjacent street like the one he needed to cross. Across the street one of the men began opening fire in the direction suspected of the enemy sniper shooting from, small bursts were given as Kirill took the chance to cross the street. He did so without incident as the rifleman stopped to reload another magazine in, just as he did the person behind Kirill attempted to cross the street, half way through a bullet coursed through the side of his skull as he collapsed mid-stride. He ducked down and fixed his combat helmet as he checked that his rifle had a full magazine. The fighting was increasingly picking up in severity as the Krasnovans pressed hard into the defenses of the Red Army, having to grind there way through them in the process. The entirety of the 7th Army was prepared to be offered in full and be dedicated to the fight for Kokshlovo, the Krasnovan high command was keen on crushing the Red Army in the east with as much of a punch as they could give them. Unlike south-front which was slowly but surely making it's way north through the suburbia that they had to fight through, the south-west front was already starting to prone westward as more forces were being readied to be sent in.

Kirill was attached with the 5th Motorized Company and was sweeping through Butyrki and Sloboda residential plazas which were mainly just blocks of apartments, part of the dominant Soviet branded infrastructure and was considered a sign of economic supremacy. Now they were more so abandoned however the common straggler and or scavenger who were mostly the homeless who dd not leave in the general evacuations. The Red Army were have said to be congesting here in what has been rumored to be a build up for a counter attack. The 5th Motorized Company and the 3rd Tank Platoon occupied Butyriki as they formed their perimeter among some of the apartment buildings. Kirill was soon enough on the balcony of a sixth floor apartment building which was almost completely abandoned, completely vandalized and trashed due to the current fighting occuring in the city. He lit a cigarette as he shouldered his assault rifle, he looked out at the urban landscape as smoke plumes rose into the air in the distance elsewhere. Krasnovan and Red Army aircraft scoured the air above the city as they periodically engaged each other or ground targets. Soon enough the Red Army did launch a counter attack and several Lyran Rottweiler tanks entered the plaza follwed by accompanying armored vehicles carrying Red Army soldiers. The defending Krasnovans opened fire on the arriving Red Army attackers as the Rottweilers used their turret machine guns to engage opposing firing spots.

Kirill's childhood friend Ruslan who joined together with Kirill over two years ago to become soldiers of the Krasnovan Army, fired his assault rifle several times at what infantry he could see. However much of the view was restricted due to the Red Army tanks who now commanded the plaza, they engaged what they could in order to buy the Red Army infantry time to commit a breakthrough of the Krasnovan defenders. Kirill opened fire alongside his friend as approaching Red Army soldiers were cut down by a hail of bullets as the two were aware of return fire, the others in his company also returned fire with what weapons they were designated with. Mortar teams were soon utilized as mortar rounds were sent out on Red Army positions that were located, Kirill ejected his now depleted magazine and reached to his utility belt for his other magazine which was full. He took it from his strap and put it right into the rifle just as the other one had been. He then fired again at advancing Red Army soldiers, he ducked periodically from return fire and mortar fire now too. Ruslan tapped his shoulder from behind as he shouted over the battle, "Kirill we need to fall back, theirs too many!". Kirill continued shooting as he downed another Red Army soldier a nearly earthshaking explosion rocked the battlefield and took Kirill by surprise as artillery was now incoming.

What survivors of his own company still remained sought bomb craters for shelter and protection against the Red Army. The 3rd Tank Platoon had already seen some success as they were able to immobilize two Rottweilier tanks that were offering resistance to the Platoon. Infantry were scattering everywhere as Four Nakil battle tanks advanced steadily down the road, their automated machine gun turrets scanning their flanks for ambushes. What was left of the 5th Motorized Company and the remnants of the 8th Motorized Company supported the advance of the 3rd Tank Platoon as it looked to finish off Butyrki of the Red Army for good.

South-East Front, District 3, Kokshlovo,
Stepnaya oblast, Krasnova.

South-East front which was comprised of the 6th Motorized Rifle Corps accompanied by the 4th Tank Regiment made the South-East Front a likely target for the worst the Red Army had to offer as it was seen as the main blow that the Krasnovan forces were going to throw at Kokshlovo to take it. So far they had advanced over 87 kilometers and had secured some residential areas which provided ample breathing room for the Krasnovans to escape the harsh realities that came with battling the Red Army. The entire front stretched nearly 100 kilometers across the southern portion of the metropolis that was being besieged, the Red Army had shown already that they were not going to lay down so easily as with their motherland to their backs, they had everything to lose if they did not come on top in this battle. More counter attacks by the Red Army were launched using a mixture of infantry and armor which gave them little successes against the Krasnovans, however some ground was regained but these were not certain to become permanent. The south-east was dominated by industry as several rows of factories and warehouses lined the streets. Residential areas were more to the north of the industrial plaza and assumed to also be crawling with Red Army soldiers. A platoon of Nakils rolled through one of the long roads which were flanked by factories and warehouses, it looked almost abandoned however drone reconnaissance had noticed ground movement in the area and vehicles. The Nakils were soon enough accompanied by multiple Krasnovan soldiers who advanced with the tanks, using them as potential cover in case they ended up engaging the enemy. A make-shift road block prevented the tanks from going any further as the infantry made their way forward just as machine gun fire rang out. Another ambush, the Red Army soldiers were firing from different windows as the Krasnovans returned fire rapidly as a full blown fire fight erupted until grenades were thrown into the building in question. Several explosions followed as the Krasnovans carefully stormed the warehouse which had roof access and cleared it of any other hostile soldiers.

The Nakils soon enough drove through the blockade as they pushed debris out of the way as they advanced forward. Suddenly the lead tank took a direct hit from a ATGM projectile as it shook up the crew and forced the ones behind it to reverse. The lead Nakil opened fire with it's automated turret as it sprayed machine gun fire in the area they suspected the missile to have came from. One of the Nakils in the rear cut through a alternate street and came around to flank a factory which had two Rottweilers posted inside of it. It was a short engagement which resulted in one Nakil having been immobilized due to it's left track being entirely blown off. The two Rottweilers were destroyed in the ensuing engagement as several armored vehicles flooded the factory parking lot to ensure no Red Army soldiers were about behind their lines. Kokshlovo was becoming war scarred as in some of it'd districts, houses and or buildings have been turned to rubble. Craters created from falling bombs littered some of the roads across the south of the city, on the front lines, structural fires were common to see due to fighting occurring in the area. The Krasnovan Airforce was slowly getting more air coverage over the besieged metropolis as they picked away at the Red Army's air defenses. Mortars and howitzers were used heavily on the battlefield in the city of Kokshlovo. A train yard was now a primary objective in the South-East as a concentration of Red Army forces was found amassing there for what could be another counter attack against the advancing Krasnovans. Infantry advanced along side tanks as the Krasnovans approached the train yard from two different directions as the Red Army defenders mounted to stop them. Nakil's fired their main cannons as the enemy's fired back as well, mortar and howitzer fire came in over head as the battle intensified. The 6th Motorized Rifle Corps had already sent in what forces it had left under it's command as the majority of the Corps was now deployed into battle in some way or the other. The 4th Tank Regiment had dispersed it's tanks to neighboring positions of the advancing Krasnovans as dozens of Nakils and other armored vehicles spearheaded forward against the enemy. Overall the Krasnovans had pushed quite hard against the Red Army defenders and had breathing room now to keep the battle in it's pace. This did not stop the Red Army from throwing what it could at them to attempt to drive them back out of the city, artillery was nearly constantly being fired at either direction in the city as debris and rubble piled up in the streets.

Freikorps Panzer had recently made it to the battle as it's forces which were at least a division in size made their entry into combat. Reconnaissance elements were able to gather quite a bit of what the battlefield picture looked like in where they were positioned. Drones had been sent out too as they scoured the urban landscape looking for anything that be useful for Freikorps Panzer to know about for combat operations. Freikorps Panzer like Freikorps Germania were consolidating their manpower and resources for the future, as when Kokshlovo fell the next big objectives would be for Uslan and then New Impen. It wouldn't be long until Freikorps Panzer made it's move as it pushed two battalions into the south-east of the city following the Krasnovan Army there. It was for the first time in over a year that Ordenite military vehicles were entering the eastern city since the 2nd war which pushed them out. It was not long for combat to find them as a Red Army counter attack in their sector was occurring and it's two battalions were now on the defensive. The two battalions were of course styled after the format of the Ordenite Wehrmacht along with it's equipment and vehicles. Drone coverage of their perimeter had already revealed the movement of a small force of Red Army soldiers and vehicles heading their way as the two battalions did what they could to prepare for a incoming attack. Red Army artillery was already beginning to soften up the area for the counter attack as the roar of heavy howitzers could be heard in the distance somewhere where the eyes of an infantry man could not see. Edwin a SS-Sturmann in the Freikorps was one of those men as he stood on one knee with his SG-23C assault rifle along with his fellow comrades in a makeshift firing position made from a small shop that was facing a key intersection. A fellow SS-Sturmann was beside him with his MG set up on the counter top with the bi-pod deployed as he put in a fresh belt of ammo into it.

Another fellow soldier stood by what was a window display however the glass had been shattered completely and much of the display was in disarray. A cigarette in between his fingers, one of those fingers having a wedding ring on it as the smoke rose into the air. They all wore the same camouflage fatigues and tactical vests. Outside their were others who patrolled about the area and or were in positions of there own waiting for the enemy to come, artillery was still coming but it had lightened up quite a bit which was a sign. Then it began as gunfire erupted in masse, the Red Army counter attack was coming through a avenue of approach that the Freikorps had already scouted and assumed the enemy would approach from there which was the intersection. Outside one of the other MG gunners was already opening fire in semi-long bursts as others returned fire as well. A heavy armored vehicle owned by the enemy opened fire with it's cannon as it's retort boomed through the narrow like streets, suddenly a rocket was fired as it hit the front of the armored vehicle hardly doing any sort of damage to it. Red Army soldiers continued to advance forward although at a snails like pace due to the incoming fire that was coming their way, mortar shells started coming in from either side as the intersection received much of them as they tore open the concrete and gravel and threw it into the air in the resulting explosions. Edwin had already moved from the small shop to the street in front as he covered a door way from a building that could likely be traversed by the enemy to flank them. All that went through his mind was what was going to come through the door way as he kept his rifle aimed at it, some brief childhood memories went through his mind as well almost as if he assumed he would die soon. What a place to die in.. Edwin thought as he swore he could hear movement inside which struck his gut like a rock. He looked both ways as the others were preoccupied, so he stepped inside as he moved through a living room. Nothing. But then he moved down a hallway in which he would run into his first kill. The soldier had froze when the two met face to face and Edwin was first to pull the trigger as bullets tore into his fatigues and torso, he dropped dead on the floor as Edwin took a sigh of relief.

[Mokastana]

City of Saint Paul,
UESS

The mercenaries knew the importance of getting off the ships before they were discovered. As such, they unloaded quickly and methodically. Their men took over the cranes and coordination of the port, giving their forces priority and forcing other vessels to wait. It didn't take long for someone to notice things were not quite right. Local authorities inquired as to why there were military forces arriving and closing down roads and bridges across the city. Others complained of clearly foreign tanks right outside their posts. The inquiries went all the way to up to Naval Headquarters, where the word back was that this was an emergency deployment, and for all local authorities to comply with the foreigners. Most did, either out of fear, or a desire to avoid the responsibility of questioning the blatantly obvious. That was until the local Commissar Office realized what was going on: Unknown tanks in the city, without orders from Vostok, no communication with the Commissars in Naval Headquarters, roads blocked off leading straight to Vostok. This was the start of a coup.

Unfortunately for the Commissar Office, by the time they put it all together, the mercenaries were already breaking down the front doors. Phone lines were cut and foreign soldiers were charging into the main hall. Mercenaries and Zvezdan Marines took the building in only an hour. Without the central office in St. Paul, the Commissars would be unable to coordinate their response. Instead, those that could, recognized the foreign threat, and with no orders from their own command, chose to act alone.

The military academy of Saint Paul took to arms as the local Commissars claimed the school and mobilized the children. They even managed to enlist a few dozen police officers and vehicles before the mercenaries realized what had happened. As Timocratic Amour began their blitz towards the Capital, a light infantry company attacked the military academy. Shots rang out between soldiers and cadets, police traded blows with invaders. Gun fights in the streets were getting attention, and word was getting out that something was wrong. In an attempt to control the situation, Naval Command issued a message to their military brethren. The mercenaries were contracted by Vostok to arrest the Commissars in Saint Paul who were plotting a coup. Naval Command had only received their orders this very morning, and would share them with any commander in the city who asked. However, all Commissars in the city were to be detained.

It was an order many military commanders were happy to follow through with. Whether it was simply a chance to remove the Party's chain, or because they finally had a alibi, it didn't matter. Those that didn't like their Commissars arrested them, and those that did, chose to simply sit the battle for St. Paul out, not taking sides in the coup. With the city secure, the road to Vostok was opened and it was soon flowing with Armored convoys.


Outskirts of Chernaya, Western Steppes,
Central Krasnova.

"You have nothing to worry about regarding your planned autonomy. No troops whether Krasnovan or Ordenite will be stationed within your land once this deal is official. All we would like in return is your support, the Kysetian people's support in our war to rid this island of communism, for good. At this very moment the border with Pezlevko-Rubino is in the process of being opened for everyone, we need unification, not more borders. "

“If it is warriors you request, then it is warriors you shall have. Kysetians will ride for their freedom. Killing communists will just be the bonus. My Comrade, you have yourself a deal.”

Galbataar smiled and extended his hand to the guests. He had earned Kysetian freedom, and would be hailed a hero, but first, he would lead his armies East to liberate the cities with his new found allies.


Penthouse suite of the Allister Hotel
Dubrovnoye, UESS claimed territority

Roman Sokolov sat in a plush leather chair, worth more than what most people made in a year in his city. From these windows he could see everything in Dubrovnoye. The local city council’s fortress in the Kremlin, the military camps in the city’s central park. Teams of horses pulling cargo along while workers marched to the factories for the morning shift. In the distance, he could even make out the guns of a Red Army camp on the mountain side. It’s massive artillery commanding control of the city simply be being so well fortified on top of rocks and snow, while it's commander was waking up in a downtown brothel waist deep in whores. Unlike New Impen, Tuktar, or Uslan, or any number of major cities in the country, Dubrovnoye had missed most of the major action in the wars back and forth, just like it’s sister city in the south, Kamenka. Not to say they were unharmed, for they did have battles in the previous conflicts, and many parts of the cities still had those scars, but compared to the rest of the former Union south of Susol, they had been doing alright. Kamenka had port cities and a highway connecting them all the way to Dubrovnoye. Vostok and even Dathel Port had been far enough away that they had managed to scrap out a living under both regimes without too much purging. Yet, the real boost had came when the foreigners began their investments.

Montana Incorporated had recognized the relatively undamaged cities, and began buying up fully functional factories and property for almost nothing, simply because the local ruble was next to worthless. They sent in their specialists, and machine operators, retrained the workers and began producing things that the world was willing to buy. Cheap stereos, cheap shoes, electronic devices designed to only last a few years, it was crap, but it was crap that sold. By making things in the impoverished Zvezdan territories, they could undercut their competitors by simply removing the labor costs of a first world nation. That and it brought much needed money into the cities. It had worked out, for a while. That was until Roman got the order from Vostok to nationalize the Foreign investments, so Roman did what was he was told. Yes, he would claim it was out of duty to the Motherland, but the truth was, he was greedy and thought he could get away with it. He was the governor of the Southern territories, respected by Vostok, with his own private army of a quarter million soldiers at his command. Unlike other militias, his were trained and even supplied by the same foreign powers he just robbed.

However, Montana Incorporated would be willing to overlook his latest transgressions. IF he made amends, and did as he was told. They just needed to get his attention first. Roman had woken up in the penthouse still hungover from last night. His neck and muscles were sore from something or someone that kept him up all night. Only when he walked out of his bedroom, he found the penthouse, surprisingly empty. No guards, no entertainment girls, no servants waiting for orders, not even a breakfast made ready by the chef. Instead, on his marble table next to his expensive leather chair, he saw an oversize valentine’s day card waiting for him. He didn’t waste a second before pulling out his pistol and looking around. Someone was fucking with him, but who? He tried the doors to the other bedroom, but found it locked tight, he shoved his shoulder into it, but the years of easy living had taken it’s toll. He could make it to the door, but he didn't know what was outside waiting for him. Whoever, did this, wanted to tell him something, so he slowly crept towards the card. If someone had set up a trap for him, he needed to know what was going on. For now, he would have to play the game.

Inside the card, was a simple message, written in his native language:

Roman, I missed you! Hope you slept well last night! I am glad you slept through the party. I know you don’t like missing those, but this one was probably a little more intense than you would have wanted. Thanks for hosting! I know I missed you, but did want to say, that I am really sad you don't want to return any of the toys I left with you. It makes me think you don’t really love me. And if you don’t love me, I might have to take drastic measures to get you to see why we belong together.

Call me,
XOXO

PS: The key the other bedroom is underneath this card. I left you a present in there. Hopefully, it shows you how serious I am about you.

Roman looked down and saw the little brass key waiting for him. He had risen to the top as a mafioso, like anyone else from his neighborhood, only he succeeded where others failed. He knew what sending a message looked like. He already knew what was behind that door before he even touched the key. Montana Inc had stopped by to politely ask for their properties back, and to show they were serious, they took something from him. He unlocked the door and the stench hit him instantly. That familiar scent of blood and viscera, it had been years since he killed anyone personally, but he still knew that scent with or without the visual cues, yet Montana had been nice enough to leave plenty of visual cues for him. His guards, his staff, his chef, his girls, or what was left of them all collected on the bed. Most either had their throats slashed or holes in their heads. A can of petrol and lighter waited next to the dresser. The message was clear, Roman may be the King of this molehill, but Montana still owned him, despite what a little corrupt Communist government in the north said. Closing the door, he pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number he had long since ignored, and waited.

A ring… then another....

Finally, a voice: “Mr. Sokolov, I am glad to hear from you, did you find my present? I hope you liked it. I think it really conveys my feelings for you right now. If it’s not enough we can certainly send more. Are you ready to negotiate now? You know Montana Incorporated wants to be partners again, as do I. You are our best chance of getting back into the Red Star Union. I would hate to see what happens if you waste this chance.”

“Negotiate? Ha, I knew you were mafia, just like me. Shame you had to kill Klinko, he was a good chef.”

“Mafia, oh? That’s funny! No, not mafia, too small time for my tastes. Look, Roman, I love you, but I am a busy girl. So here is our deal. You go onto your local television, declare the South independent from Vostok. Open up the docks and give us back our property, and we continue on like nothing happened. I’ll give you… twenty four hours. Go straight from your Penthouse to the television studio, any detours and you might have an accident. You didn’t take too much Rohypnol last night, so while you may feel groggy, I am sure you can do this. I told you it wasn't a party drug silly! Also, you should really be careful about bringing strange women back your penthouse. Not all of them are as naive as you would hope. Good luck!”

Just like that, the phone clicked.

He went back to the windows, the valentine's day card and his plush leather chair, and sat down. He could see everything in Dubrovnoye: the television studio, the hundreds of building where a spotter might be watching him from right now. The empty Red Army camps in the distance, as most had marched north to Kokshlovo. Montana Inc was more than just a financial giant, they were mafia. He should have listened when his advisers told him that Montana was not just a business, that they were a powerful drug cartel, that they bought their own government and expanded from there. It was too far fetched, to silly to believe. No, they may have had a shady past, but they went legit. They had to have? Right? Someone would have caught on to them by now. Only now he had a bedroom full of bodies to prove that Montana wasn’t as clean as they claimed, and they had assassins ready to kill him if he didn’t do as they said. Yes, Montana was still very much a mafia.

He sighed, looking out to the city. He better call the brothel where Red Army General was enjoying all the free booze and women Roman could provide. If he was going declare independence, better make sure that fat drunk uniformed asshole was ready to commit treason with him.

[Morrdh]

Morrdun,
Commonwealth of Morrdh

A meeting with the Defence Council was the last thing Whittleton had been expecting, especially with the party leadership contest so closed to being resolved. True he had a briefing with the Council to orientate him when he assumed the office of Prime Minister, even if that was only suppose to be a temporary affair. Yet the Council insisted, they stated that it was something that needed an immediate response and couldn't wait until Whittleton's successor took over. He was aware of the present situation in Krasnova thanks to the reports from Commonwealth Intelligence that Sir Gedney Hill, the still wheelchair bound Home Secretary, had been briefing him on for several days now. He was also aware that some contingency plans had been put into action: the rising of the alert state, partial mobilization of forces and various other miscellaneous tasks. So it was with his head full of questions that Whittleton entered the meeting room.

"Prime Minister, thank you for joining us." Greeted Sir Terence Limehouse, Admiral of the Fleet and the current Chief of the Defence Staff.

"Thank you Admiral, though am at a little bit of a loss as to why I've been called here." Replied Whittleton as he took to his seat, then glanced round and saw the other uniformed men at the table. Each one wore insignia that showed them to be the head of their respective Service: The Chief of the Naval Service, the Chief of the Army, the Chief of the Air Force and the Chief of the Morridane Space Fleet.

"It'll all become clear soon enough; though I take you're fully aware of the current crisis in Krasnvoa?" Sir Terence asked.

"Yes, the latest intel reports have typically been on my desk first thing every morning."

"Excellent, means I don't need to waste time." Smiled Sir Terence. "So I'll get straight to the point prime minister; we can't let the Ordenites dominate the island and, by extension, central Greater Dienstad."

"I see. What we can do about it?"

"Not alot since we're still marshalling our forces." Answered Sir Terence. "We have various military commitments and the defence of Mordent to consider, so for now we need to discourage the Ordenites from making any moves against us."

"A deterrence?"

"Exactly." Sir Terence agreed. "But the nuclear option doesn't seem to be much cop, what with how the second war ended."

"And technically we don't have any nuclear weapons..." Whittleton muttered as he glanced over at a map on the wall of Greater Dienstad, particularly the area round the Ordenite homeland and the isle of Mordent. "Space Marshal Cannell, our newest CCA member Itailia...do they process much in the way of space assets?"

"Some, but they're steadily building things up." Answered Cannell, the Chief of the Morridane Space Fleet.

"Any big ships coming up for a refit soon?"

"Yes...I believe the Bayleaf class transport HES Oakleaf is due for one soon."

"Excellent." Whittleton smiled. "I recall speaking with their space ministry a little while ago back technology sharing, I'm sure they'll jump at the chance of helping with a refit of one of our ships."

"Forgive me sir, but I do not see how this has anything to do with the Ordenites." Sir Terence exclaimed.

"We can park the Oakleaf right above the Ordenite capital Admiral." Answered Whittleton. "They'll no doubt be aware of our orbital strike capabilities, so they'll probably put two and two together...course that depends on their intel on our space assets. Hopefully they'll get the point."

"Speaking of space assets." Cannell spoke up. "We've been identifying as much of theirs as we possibly can, seems to be mostly satellites."

"And I'm presuming that plans have been drawn up for ways of neutralizing them?"

"We have, though considerations to minimizing the chances of a kessler syndrome have been made."

"Right, I want those plans dusted off, updated and on my desk by the end of the week."

"I'll get that dealt with right away."

"Good, but I guess that still leaves the question of what we can do now to impede Ordenite efforts in Krasnova without becoming directly involve there."

"There is possibly something, but its not without its risks." Answered Admiral Sir Nigel Boyce, Chief of the Naval Service.

"Go on." Replied Whittleton.

"The 'silent service' has already been active against Ordenite shipping in a passive role, pretty much everything bar opening fire on them." Sir Nigel stated. "This has let us built up a good idea of their capabilities and adjust our tactics against them."

"And you're proposing letting our 'silent service', as you put it, operate with the gloves off?"

"Yes I am sir, but there is a degree of risk." Nodded Sir Nigel. "It'll be considered an act of war if they ever find out it was us."

"Understandably so, but do you have plans for reducing that possibility?"

"Its a slim chance anyway due to our operational methods, but it wouldn't hurt to be more careful. Plus our Stevidian counterparts have been acting in the same passive role, hopefully we can co-ordinate efforts so that they can continue to do that."

"Right, approach them and see what they say."

"Yes prime minister."

"Gentlemen is there anything else?"

"There is." Said Sir Terence. "What happens if the Ordenite do overrun Zvezda?"

"Hm, thats more of a long-term problem." Sighed Whittleton. "And one for my successor, so I say work out plans for now."

"Yes, of course prime minister." Nodded Sir Terence. "Meeting adjourned then."

[United World Order]

City of Kokshlovo, Communist Party Municipal Headquarters,
UESS Claimed Territory, +2 weeks since siege began.

The sound of war never ceased as the echoes of explosions and retort of automatic weapons filled the Municipal headquarters for the Communist Party in the city and was where Arkhip Fedorov was held up in under the building its self and in a secure air raid shelter that was converted into a High Command post for the defenders. The headquarters was occupied and defended inside and out by Fedorov's personal bodyguard unit and other Red Army units part of the city's garrison for it's defense in which just several blocks away fighting raged as the Krasnovans and Ordenites pushed into the city's interior where fierce fighting was being waged. For the most part the building was mostly in tact and had yet to face any direct fire or fighting nearby as the building acted as a major hub for the Red Army in the city. A military jeep came to a near screeching halt outside of the headquarters as a uniformed soldier hopped out with his rifle slung across his shoulder he hurried up the granite steps and inside the Headquarters building. He carried with him a satellite phone which he was looking to get into the hands of Fedorov himself as he quickly got himself into the service elevator that went down to the shelter its self. Mean while the person on the other end waited for Fedorov to get the phone, a Red Army general was on that end and was to inform Fedorov that reinforcements were due to arrive in less than 12 hours and with that bringing over 500,000 from the Dubrovnoye Military District. Once the service elevator doors opened the runner raced down the corridor and was quickly let in by guards that were posted outside of a room. Inside was Arkhip Fedorov himself with several Red Army commanders who were from the city garrison that were leading the defense.

"Comrade Fedorov! I have a General Basilov on the other end who says he has a important message for you, sir!" The soldier said as he tried to catch his breath. Fedorov took the sattelite phone and was informed by the General that reinforcements would arrive in the next twelve hours as over half a million of the Red Army were closing in on Kokshlovo and were to help break the siege. The room started to lighten up as very good news had been brought to them and were quick to have the news spread to the defenders of the city, that finally relief was coming which would certainly give a well need morale boost. The news spread quick like wild fire to the over 1 million defenders already in the city and engaged in fighting with just over 600,000 Krasnovans and 30,000 Friekorps. The commanders in the room also took a sigh of relief as reinforcements were soon arriving to the embattled metropolis. Just then the inside of the shelter shook violently for several seconds as the lights flickered, the shelter had been shaken up as those within sought to figure out what had just happened. The building above them had taken several bombs from enemy aircraft but said that their was nothing serious to worry about.

Elsewhere what was known as the 18th Army Front continued to move ever closer to Kokshlovo from the mountains as the 32nd, 43rd, 59th and 104th Armies which made up the Army Front arranged their forces appropriately for their strategy to knock the invaders out of the city once and for all. It was discussed that the 18th Army Front would split into two groups as they would swing west and east from the north and look to flank the city before pushing in to disadvantage the embattled Krasnovans and force a breakthrough of their lines. The city garrison would also take part as they would conduct a all out counter offensive against the enemy everywhere in the city in hoping of giving the reinforcements enough time to carry out their objectives. The counter offensive was started with a massive artillery barrage by the garrison's artillery units as the bombardment occurred for over 6 minutes as sections of the occupied city were devastated by high explosive shells and rockets as the Krasnovans hunkered down as best they could, however that wouldn't stop a spike in casualties in the wake of the barrage as hundreds to thousands were wounded or dead. Following that were multiple attacks across the board within the city from the defending Red Army as it plunged it's men and women into the enemy in hopes of giving their comrades enough time to finish the invaders once and for all. The front lines saw a huge spike in fighting because of this as armies collided in the urban metropolis, the fighting would continue well into the night as the sudden counter offensive caught many of the Krasnovans off guard as the Red Army was able to liberate just over 13 km from the enemy.

Later into the night the expected arrival of the 18th Army Front was marked by another equally fierce artillery barrage as the ground shook at the sheer volume of munitions were being fired into enemy lines. A sea of armored vehicles and tanks flooded the plains outside of the city as the 18th Army Front swept through them like a vast army of ants. The 32nd Tank Army and the 104th Shock Army pressed the western flank of the outskirts of the city as Krasnovan units and rear guard forces scrambled to put up a hasty defense that would see it pitted up against possibly hundreds to thousands of enemy vehicles and even more troops. Mean while the 43rd Tank Army and the 59th Motorized Rifle Army swept into the eastern flank of the Krasnovans as they smashed into unprepared defenders. Krasnovan commanders were thrown into panic as the Red Army were on the verge of turning the tide of the battle completely into their favor, as the 18th Army Front looked to completely collapse their western and eastern flanks which would threaten the city and their own forces surrounded by the Red Army, a position they had no desire in getting stuck in. The first reinforcements were already coming in as elements of the 104th Shock Army entered the city through a breakthrough in the outer perimeter as the Krasnovans routed in the face of superior Red Army forces. The 18th Army Front took complete advantage of the situation as they pushed their armies into the western and eastern flanks, completely collapsing them in relative short order as reinforcements already begun to enter the embattled metropolis.

Plains outside of Kokshlovo, UESS Claimed Territory.
+1 month of the Siege.
Army Group Klingenberg makes it's advance on Kokshlovo to break the encirclement.

Der Gott, Der Eisen Wachen Ließ

Army Group Klingenberg had over the last few months since their arrival on the island had been preparing for their eventual involvement in the current conflict that was now reaching a very bloody phase as tens of thousands had already died so far in this war, most being Krasnovans and Zvezdans. The Ordenite war machine was very methodical and well oiled and it showed in such cases as this one as the current Battle of Kokshlovo had took a sudden turn in the favor of the Red Army as the 18th Army Front of the Dubrovnoye Military District had upon arrival to the battle space, completely shattered the flanks of the Krasnovan Army and forced the now entrapped Krasnovan Army into a siege of it's own that quickly exposed many of their weaknesses in battle, their supply lines had been cut near completely as the 18th Army Front not only pushed into the metropolis its self but pushed out as well, looking to swallow up as much lost ground as it could in the process. The 43rd and 32nd tank armies had by the end of the first month of the siege completed their encirclement despite harassment by Krasnovan conscripts and other units, while the 104th Shock Army and the 59th Motorized Rifle Army plunged into the city as it looked to completely destroy the current order of battle for the Krasnovans. The Krasnovans were already feeling the pressure as they struggled to keep their lines from breaking and were losing men at a alarming rate, building to building and street to street was fought for ferociously as the city was transformed into a hellish landscape of war and death. Civilians still in the city quickly found themselves in the middle and many would die just as the soldiers who fought in the streets did. Red Army artillery was near continous as they battered the Krasnovans even more with heavy howitzers and rockets, their infantry swept through areas of the city like rats as they slaughtered whatever was in their way. At this point the attacking Krasnovans were now the defenders themselves as they quickly put together several strongholds throughout the city they covered as the Red Army converged on all of them. The Krasnovan Army were frantic in sending messages up the chain of command of the Oberkommando des Heeres as they pleaded for some sort of relief effort be done and asked for Ordenite Army assistance in the battle to prevent their entire force from being destroyed or captured. A man answered their pleas for help and that man was Fieldmarschall Torsten Klingenberg who currently was the only one of his rank who was in charge of the Ordenite Army in Krasnova and was quick to mobilize the entirety of Army Group Klingenberg to intervene in the Battle for the eastern city as he had done in the past during the 2nd war.

Speed was always a favorable trait of the Ordenite Army and even the Waffen SS and speed was what won them battles and wars. Drones scowered the skies as they took pictures of what was below as their handlers looked for anything that be of use to them reconnaissance and intelligence wise. Small reconnaissance teams were also sent out as they stalked the Red Army on the outskirts of where they would approach from, so far no engagements had been made as their enemies had no idea of their presence. Several villages in the outlying areas had been overrun by the 43rd Tank Army already and more looked to be consumed next, the Gertopy mountain range was already being scouted by reconnaissance troops belonging to the 66th Mountain Division. In the plains just south of Kokshlovo the combined might of the 47th Panzer Army and the 72nd Army made their advance on what was now being occupied by the 43rd Tank Army which had a fair amount of rear echelon forces in place in the outlying villages for such an occasion, however it was noted a lot of their focus was on containing the entrapped Krasnovans. The fighting soon began in the outskirts of a village along the main highway to Kokshlovo as the far stretching but spread out panzer and panzer-greinader divisions encounter resistance from elements of the 43rd Tank Army. It was here that the enemy would once again experience the power of the Luftwaffe as fighter jets equipped with air to ground munitions picked off roaming enemy tanks around the village while the Panzers moved in to finish the enemy off. Red Army artillery soon made it's presence felt as shells began to fall here and there but much of the Panzers were unaffected by this and were soon closing in on the village proper. However the advance did not stop there as other Panzer units continued pushing forward as they were soon coming upon other villages where the 43rd Tank Army had only settled into over a week ago as a large and fierce tank engagement was taking place.

Peasants were still peasants as their forces in the outskirts were already massing closer to the city in preparation to charge the approaching Ordenites. This was able to relieve some pressure off the entrapped Krasnovans as counter attacks ensued as bloody fighting continued for their survival. The Panzers still had some advantage over the enemy despite them being in Lyran tanks which those of the Panzers had fought against before as they employed tactics picked up during the 2nd war which still worked today as the areas plowed through by the Panzers became littered with burning hulks of tanks. in short order did mechanized elements of the attacking force came and with it came infantry. Ordenite infantry upon being inserted near the town group into their proper units and receive commands for their mission, once this takes place the Infantry begin to assault the village and complete the objectives given to them. They were of course backed up in firepower consisting of heavy artillery such as the Morser 18 211mm heavy howitzers, Hummel 155mm self propelled gun, and other heavy calibers, rockets and mortars which made supported Ordenite infantry very dangerous especially in larger offensives in which artillery is used very heavily in support of a important assault or offensive. Red Army defenders in which most were peasant soldiers were easily routed as Ordenite infantry were able to kill more than half of their original force even taking some prisoners. Ordenite artillery which was nearly abundant in heavy howitzers, self propelled guns and rocket artillery made a sizable difference in the first engagements against Red Army conscripts as they were able to change the whole landscape of the battle and force the enemy to route from their positions, leading to Ordenite infantry gaining ground quicker. Morale was fairly high as the Ordenites had tasted victory before in these lands and many could feel it in their gut that they would be victorious here again and reclaim the pride and glory that had been attained here over 6 years ago.

Many of the Ordenite infantry in the Army Group were right out of their training and were experiencing combat for the first time, putting what they learned to the test against enemies. The officers were the ones who had seen this battlefield before and already knew what had to be done and how to survive in the steppe. The advance continued without much delay as the peasants arrayed against them were simply routed as the Panzers and other Ordenite units crept closer towards the outskirts of the embattled city.

[The Macabees]

Arkas 'Mía'Laru', Eastern Frontier of the Satrapy of Pezlevko-Rubino

The exact nature of Arkas 'Mía Laru' could depend on how one looked at it. To most, it was a small collection of military buildings contained with a large, fenced-off piece of land. Concrete walls hid something behind them, what exactly most locals were unaware of. Those who had been inside knew that a battalion of infantrymen considered 'Mía Laru' their home, along with a SAM and an artillery battery, and attached units. Trench lines and ramparts extended across the terrain and around the base. It looked the typical forward operating base along the border, one of the hundreds in the satrapy.

Covered as best possible by an extensive grove of tall, green pines, there rose a tower with a radome at the top of a strangely angled mast. Only a select few knew the purpose of this station and those that did rarely mingled with the others. That this was one of many listening posts, intercepting communication traffic from across the Frontier, was a piece of information the Golden Throne kept tightly guarded.

In building 'Mía Laru' here, several thousand acres of land had to be purchased, all farmland that once flowed freely across an imaginary line that the foreign powers now called a border. An old road passes through here and about ten kilometers east sits a gatehouse that controls traffic between one side of the Frontier and the other. Serving as a rock to hold against the flow of a river, the crossing station sits alone inside an ocean of rolling steppe land. This land must be defended in the event of an invasion, no matter the length of the border and the number of troops available in defense. How better to dictate the terrain of battle than with strategically placed minefields, clearly marked along their perimeter and quite extensive in places, but almost non-existent in others? The path of least resistance can often be the most treacherous one. But, this is as true for migrants and refugees as it is for the enemy military.

Stability, peace, and security had abandoned Krasnova long ago. The communists had built a paper tiger, collapsing at the first sight of fascism, and now the country was tearing itself apart, all so that it could be trampled on by Ordenite jackboots of murder and oppression. It was natural for the impoverished to look south, at a satrapy just starting to recover commercially and, although with problems of its own, far more secure than anywhere else in Krasnova at this stage.

Making it through the crossing station could take a very long time. The narrow road could only hold so many people and these people could only move so fast, and thus large groups of refugees migrated through open land. Most knew of the minefields or otherwise stayed clear of them when they saw the warning signs, but not all did...


...the moon was mostly hidden in the sun's shadow, there was hardly a ray of reflected light in the broad expanse of the southern Krasnovan steppes. A group of perhaps thirty souls treks through the dry grasslands, rarely a hill or a tree in sight. It was easy to get lost here, not quite sure how to return to where you had just been because it was all smimply indistinguishable from its surroundings. This herd of refugees certainly was lost, or at least they had ventured along the wrong zone of the Frontier to migrate through. Even from the perimeter of the base, the deep black silhouettes of the buildings were hidden in the dark.

A small child, a girl with long, braided blonde hair, pointed to something and said, "Mother, what is—"

"Hush, child," whispered the mother harshly. "There may be soldiers here."

In the towns and villages south of Chernaya there were stories afloat that could scare even the most fearless of men. It was said that a refugee group slowly making their way west had been found and stopped by a company of Ordenite soldiers. They were promptly massacred were they stood and left there for their bodies to be picked at by vultures or to otherwise rot. Another group, or so the rumor went, was discovered by a band of broken Krasnovan militiamen, who raped the women in front of the men and then killed them all, but not before torturing them, including the children. Not even were they safe from the Macabéans, as there was alleged news of a massacre on the western side of what they called the Frontier. Apparently, the refugees had been mistaken for soldiers, and the Macabéans were the type to ask questions later. They would only be safe when they were at least thirty kilometers deep into the satrapy, so the townspeople had said.

They walked in a huddled mass, some men holding their woman or their children in a blanket or a jacket. All looked hungry, as if they hadn't eaten in days. With dry, cracked lips they marched westward, or at least in a direction they believed was westward. Although they were hidden in the night, they cowered from the aircraft and helicopters that would at times fly high above them, and if they saw the lights of a ground patrol they quickly changed course to avoid it.

It was not only enemy soldiers they were afraid of, though. Leopards, lions, and even bears inhabited these areas. They were once scared of humans and would avoid them, but of a ragged group of starving individuals who hardly had the means to protect themselves? No one wanted to know for sure how they would fare in those circumstances. When wild dogs cackled under the stars a few refugees would turn their heads every which way, searching for the source of their scourge. There were as thrice as many rumors of animal attacks as there were of human, and these stories were sometimes much more frightful.

They veered slightly due to an irregular cropping of rocks that blocked their path. They could have gone the other way just as easily, it was a moment of chance that they chose the route they did. And it would be a pricey toll to pay for their luck landing on the wrong side. The small girl looked back, in the direction of the wooden post she — the only one to have caught it at a moment when the moon's shine reflected off the metal sign — had just seen. It was the skull and bones of death.

Click.

As the mother's face opened in horror, the young girl looked down in the most stoic way. She dared not lift her foot from where she had just stepped. If she did, it would mean her death.

For a moment, the others did not notice and continued to walk on. In much too much shock, the mother could not even open her mouth and call out at the column to stop. She looked on the verge of tears. Next to her, the small, blonde girl could not take her eyes off the ground. Her hand seemed glued to her mothers, whose grasp tightened. Finally, one woman turned her head and tugged at her husband's sleeves, and he called out, "Halt!"

By now the mother was sobbing as she fell to her knees, hugging her daughter's frail, thin body. "Oh, my princess, what have we done." The child started to whimper now, her face drained of blood and deathly. "Hus, hush," the mother consoled, as she patted her hair. "All will be well, all will be well. Someone will help us."

The others kept their distance and looked about more cautiously than before. If there was one mine out there, there must be more.

As they all continued to look helplessly at them, the mother shouted, "Will none of you help!?" Outrage flashed across her face, then disappointment. The wind was picking up again and with it came its frigid bite, as it whipped their thin, half-torn rags they used as coats in violent ripples. When still no one moved to their aide, it was hate that overcame her expression. "You are all cowards," she snapped. Then, her voice exasperated and desperate, "Cowards, all of you."

Silence befell them then. The mother wrapped herself around daughter, trying to protect her from the cold even in the face of the much greater evil that would inevitably be their end. The cold's bite did not lessen, the wind did not hide, and for hours they shivered together, afraid to die. A longing for life they had never experienced with such intensity before consumed them and both wept. The girl's leg did not waver, however.

"I'm sorry, Yugova, there is nothing we can do," said one man, finally, his face half-hidden in shadows.

Another one stepped forward, then stopped abruptly when he remembered the click that had all gotten them here, to this point. Nervously, he shook his head and said, "Zorin is right, Yugova. What can we do? We are not soldiers, we cannot disassemble the device. I'm s—," a split pause, then, "I'm sorry."

The first man nodded. "Wait here until daylight. Do not take your foot off where you stand, Katya," he said, looking at the girl. To the mother, "The Macabéan's will find you both tomorrow, they will help you."

"Will you all stay here with us tonight?" whimpered the mother. She knew the answer they would give.

"No," answered that first man. "The rest of us must move while it is still night, it is the surest way we will make it fully into the satrapy alive. I'm sorry, but this must be the way." There was a strain in his voice, a weakness. He was a man who wanted to remain and help, a man who could not accept abandoning a woman and her child, but could not and had to nonetheless. With a crack in his voice, he said, "May God be with you, Yugova. May God be with you, Katya."

"Fuck your God," she hissed.

The second man shook his head and the first one turned to the others and said, "Come, we must be on our way. Follow me, we must move east again for some time to stay clear of the minefield. God willing, we can stay clear."

"How do you think will God judge you all for this? Are you monsters!? How dare you abandon us? How dare you leave us to die? Please! Please! Stay, help us, find aid. Please!..." Her hysteria was swallowed by the black night the farther they walked away, at a quick pace if only to run away from their shame. They were all wary of befalling the same fate as small Katya and her mother, Yugova.

The rearmost of the group was just slipping into the shadows when suddenly the ground trembled and shook. A bright flash followed not a heartbeat later and it was accompanied by a terrifying explosion that shattered their ears and sent them flying back. Fortunate was it that their hearing had been severed, for they missed the sound of meat hitting the ground in a chorus of heavy, wet thumps.

Then came the wail of a woman, and then another. A shout sounded. Another one. But they all seemed to come from the same people. One could be heard making its way across the steppe quickly, as if in a frantic run, when suddenly there was a second explosion and this person was sent flying into the air in pieces. A second pillar of fire and smoke rose into the air, spreading across the field. A siren cried out from their southwest, repeating a scream of its own. Then they saw lights in the distance, big tall ones, and headlights on the ground level as well. Whoever of their group was left alive scattered for they were nowhere to be found when the mother looked again.

She realized then that she was alive and when she, afraid then more than she had been even when her daughter stood on that mine, turned to her daughter Yugova started to cry when she saw her there, alive and unhurt. The mine had not gone off. It had not killed them. "Fuck your God," she muttered. She had said those words. And God had responded like this. It was a miracle. "No. Thank you God, for you are just."

Mother and daughter lay there, in the dirt of the field, until the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. The sun was not quite out yet, not yet even an orange ball creeping into sight.

It was only then that an armored vehicle appeared, raising dust behind it as it crossed the grassland. The child's and mother's mouths were agape in horror as the vehicle stopped a hundred paces away. Four soldiers stepped out, rifles in hand and their heads were hidden behind a helmet which had only a single, subtle red eye. They approached the two of them in unison, at a pace that was neither slow nor hurried. Back home, the other wives had told stories of men in armor, unbeatable warriors made of metal. The legends were always wild, she had known. But, although these men were only armored between the neck and their waist, they were intimidating enough, inhuman in a way. One had a robotic left arm.

"T-, t-, the mines," the mother said, her voice faint and hoarse from thirst.

One of the soldiers chuckled, the laugh emanating from a speaker. Another one gave him a look that, despite a hidden face, was as sharp as a razor. The laughing soldier quickly stopped. "The mines have been turned off," said the one who had cut the other one's mock short. He spoke in broken Krasnovan, díenstadi accent hard as rock. "You are safe now," he added.

The laughing soldier had walked on with another one, heading toward where the two mines had gone off.

"What is your name?" said the one who must have been the leader, the one who had spoken earlier.

She looked at him for a second, blinked, and said, "Yugova."

"You were very lucky, Yugova." His sight sounded mechanical over the helmet's speaker. "Your friends, not so much I suspect. You tripped one of our motion sensors. Apparently, you two had the sense to stay put. Come," he said, "stand up, we will take you back to our base. From there we will escort you to Usontsy, a small town just west of here. There we have friends that will take care of you two, perhaps even find you work down south. Come."

She used her arms to try to lift herself and they would have given out had the soldier not grabbed her by the arm to help her up. The other one took Katya in his arms, carrying her. As they walked toward the armored car and a new life, she heard the soldier, the leader, say, "Fourteen dead? Gods' above." He must not have meant to say it aloud because he said nothing after.

A sensor, she thought. She looked at Katya, the child's eyes were empty, and wondered if they would ever finally find peace.

[United World Order]

Borisovka,
Central Krasnova.
19th, December, 2028

The village of Borisovka was a growing village as those wanting to take the risk of becoming refugees and traveling through the d-facto border typically entered the village for shelter for the night before their final trek to the border its self to get across for their own safety. The village had estimated it's current population at just over 50,000 residents in all as the village had grown very rapidly in the days before the current conflict. In the days leading up to the current situation occurring with the already fractured island that was Krasnova, a good chunk of the population either evacuated into the city its self or decided to try their luck with the Satrapy. This dropped the village's estimate down to just under 30,000 persons still inhabiting Borisovka. However due to the growing displacement of the population in the eastern half of the island, with upwards of ten million being uprooted out of their homes in the face of the approaching war. At least half moved further east, while the other half moved along the border of the Macabean Satrapy and what was probably their best hope for survival. Ever since as the war reached the doorsteps of Kokshlovo and other cities, these refugees made their moves to gaining entry into the Satrapy which many who were aware of the dangers made it to for better lives under a progressive government. The Ordenite Army had reported to it's superiors in the Oberkommando des Wehrmacht that the number of Ordenite Army personnel has swelled to over 3 million so far within Krasnova. Collaborationist elements of the Krasnovans had so far kept their word with the arriving Ordenite Army forces that were now making their way in-land from one of the major western ports that regularly took in Kriegsmarine and Merchant marine traffic now more than ever. The Kreigsmarine presence in Krasnovan waters had increased steadily to a total of 600 naval ships now prowling about Krasnovan waters, along the coast. This provided another layer of protection for the Ordenites that at least they would ultimately have Kriegsmarine support. Many of these ships were Amphibious assault carriers in order to provide immediate and lasting logistiscs to the troops deeper in-land into the island. There were of course several aircraft carriers involved in the operations around Krasnovan waters and along the coasts as to project air supremacy through the Luftwaffe which also provided naval fighters for these purposes.

Borisovka had originally been liberated by the Krasnovan militias that had volunteered to participate in the beginning offensive against the UESS. Occupying Krasnovan militiamen were quick to enact justice of their own as they were have said to have slaughtered over 700 people in the span of 3 days following the liberation of the village. Others were taken prisoner and arrested soon being put into make-shift prisons which in the village were simply holding areas where many of them would stay until their fates were decided, others were moved to newly constructed transit camps which would house them until they were transitioned into a labor camp. So far at least 1000 had been kept in the holding areas within the village as this information had already been sent through official Ordenite channels of communication in their Wehrmacht. Not long after did several vehicles belonging to the Secret Field Police arrive in the village as they arrived outside the main holding facility where the imprisoned were contained. They were considered the secret police of the Wehrmacht and held authority over other officers and soldiers as they were considered military police but were also liable to the same authority as someone from the SiPo. Outside of the holding facility were several armed soldiers from the Krasnovan Army who came after the liberation by the militias. Three men walked from their armored car to the entrance of the facility as the Krasnovan soldiers came to attention and saluted the men who did the same and went inside, all the while it had been snowing for most of the day. More soldiers were present inside as the facility was similar to that of a jail or prison, the three men presented their identification to the front desk as they had a short conversation with the Krasnovan in charge of the facility as they discussed the transfer of the 1,000 detainees into GFP custody. The detainees were mostly those who had surrendered to the Krasnovan militamen during the liberation of the village, many had been part of the peasant armies of the UESS.

Still confined in their shackles they were herded like cattle out of the holding facility and out into the cold, many did not even have proper clothing to bear the cold however they wouldn't need it for much longer. The GFP Officers along with a company of Krasnovan militamen sent the herd of detainees out of the village into the outskirts as they were eventually walking through the snow. The snow covered fields were suited as the best place for what was going to be the fate of the detainees in all. Most of the detainees were POWs who had been captured in the first offensive into the Zone, there were also collaborators who were given up through several interrogations and information given from residents of the village. Standing in the field looking upon the detainees who were now being put into rows as they extended out into a large square in the middle of the snowy field outside of the village, he pulled a small carton of cigarettes that he liked to keep inside his fur leather coat. Feldpolizeidirektor or Field Police Director which was someone of rank to command a Gruppe of GFP officers who accompanied him in the field. Dietmar von Hyde stood with a lit Prussian cigarette in his mouth as his aide de camps followed him around, as he was the equivalent to a Oberstleutenant.

"Oberstleutenant von Hyde! The prisoners have been put into ranks, sir!" A Officer announced to him as he nodded and signaled for the firing squads to get ready. The company of Krasnovan militamen quickly assembled atleast 50 men from the company to act as the executioners as they were armed clearly with their own rifles. Many of the detainees were shivering in the cold as they stood where they were in the field, surrounded by the company of Krasnovan militiamen who were known for their brutality after a battle. Soon enough the first row was brought forward as they stood in a straight line across with just about 50 people in all as the firing squad in front of them took aim with their machine guns. A priest of the local church in the village went up and down the row saying prayers for the men who were about to be executed. The firing squad waited for their moment to fire on the detainees. The other detainees looked on in the shivering cold as they hardly showed any real emotion to what was going to happen, most had accepted their imminent fate at the hands of the Fascists.

"Commence firing!" Von Hyde ordered with the commanding tone of his voice echoing throughout the fields as the firing squad opened fire on the first row of detainees that stepped forward. Their bodies shook as bullets teared through them and their insides, they dropped dead onto the snow as blood coursed out of their bullet riddled bodies as the firing squad reloaded. A single Krasnovan walked the row of corpses with a pistol drawn as he stopped at one of the bodies and fired a single bullet to the brain. More shots would ring out before the next row was called to the firing line as they stepped over the already dead that had fallen before them. The firing squad took aim at the next row that stepped forward into their sights as the same order by Von Hyde was repeated again and again the firing squad cut down the row in gunfire. It would take another half an hour for the firing squad to complete it's killing of over 1,000 souls as the bodies were then massed into a large pile and left to be picked on by the wildlife.

24th, December, 2028
WEHRMACHT RADIO BROADCAST

"Attention, Personnel of the Ordenite Wehrmacht, This broadcast comes from the Wehrmacht Radio Station in Berlina. Christmas eve is upon us and as is tradition there will be a general roll call to all branches and fronts of the Ordenite Wehrmacht."

"Attention, Kokshlovo sector, sound off."

"Kokshlovo sector sounding off, Merry Christmas to all comrades and a Happy New Years"

"Attention, Yukar sector, sound off."

"Yukar sector, sounding off. All is well here, Merry Christmas."

"Attention, Ivanovka sector, sound off."

"Ivanovka sector, sounding off. At the frontier, Merry Christmas comrades."

"Attention, Red Sea sector, Kriegsmarine, sound off."

"Red Sea sector, Kriegsmarine. Merry Christmas and Happy new years comrades."

"Attention, Ol'hovka sector, Luftwaffe, sound off."

"Ol'hovka sector, Luftwaffe, sounding off. Merry Christmas and God bless us all comrades."

"Attention, Chernaya sector, sound off."

"Chernaya sector, sounding off. On the edge of the Frontier, Merry Christmas."

"Attention, attention. Ordena sea sector, sound off."

"Ordena sea sector, Kriegsmarine, sounding off. Merry Christmas."

"Attention, Crowns sector, U-boot, sound off."

"Crowns sector, U-boot sounding off, Merry Christmas comrades."

"Attention, Scythia sector, sound off."

"Scythia sector of the Reich, sounding off. Merry Christmas."

"Attention, Caucasia sector, sound off."

"Caucasia sector, sounding off. Keep warm comrades, may God be with you all."

"Attention, Hailand sector, sound off."

"Hailand sector, sounding off. The border is quiet as usual, very peaceful. Merry Christmas."

"Attention, Ralkovia sector, sound off."

"Ralkovia sector, sounding off. Merry Christmas."

***Rough broadcast of a small choir singing Silent Night concludes the broadcast***

[United World Order]

Kokshlovo,
Southern Sector.

Kokshlovo was beginning to look like previous drawn out battles such as the Battle of Tuktar that lasted over 6 months before Mokan allied armies were able to force the Ordenite defenders out from the city. It was becoming obvious to the Krasnovan commanders and Ordenite alike that Kokshlovo was going to become a drawn out slug fest as fighting was picking up but as of lately no real gains were made by either side. The Red Army had developed a strong hold deeper into the city focused around the downtown area and outlying areas. However the defenders were in the prime areas to slow down the attacking Krasnovans and Ordenites, as they employed dozens of sniper teams and held down avenues and streets with fortified barricades made from rubble and other debris. Bombed out buildings were also prime places that Red Army soldiers would fortify and use against the attacking forces. Destruction was everywhere as war and fierce combat changed the urban environment radically, as the populace who was still remaining in the city had to adapt or die in the crossfire of bombs and bullets. Many civilians had already been caught in the crossfire of the two sides exchanging blows, thousands to tens of thousands had died since the beginning of the attack on the city itself. So far casualties on both sides were mounting, the Red Army and the Krasnovans themselves had taken the majority of those casualties so far as the Ordenites had only recently entered the fray but already they had taken some casualties too. The 43rd Tank Army was reeling as the combined armored spearheads of the 28th Panzer Corps and 35th Panzer Corps sent the Tank Army back into the suburbia behind them as the Army its self was beginning to split in half as the Panzers continued pressing against them in battle. Fierce tank engagements consumed the fields outside the embattled metropolis, a second front line was beginning to form as the 43rd Tank Army attempted to hold their own on the outskirts of the city. However, elements of the 28th Panzer Korps had already broken through the outskirts and were now making head way into the suburbs as Panzers moved through the streets and through neighborhoods. Accompanied of course by Panzergreinaders, street to street fighting erupted as it had before with the Krasnovans. The 51st Panzergreinader Division was now pressed into the battle as it made up what was now referred to as Southern Sector.

One of the main arteries through the suburbs and into the more developed metropolis was Aleksandrovka street. It extended for nearly 25 miles into the city and was flanked by apartment blocks typical of Soviet architecture. Drones had already scowered the majority of the street and Red Army positions were revealed here and there which was passed on to the officers in the 51st. Strategic bombers belonging to the Luftwaffe had already pummeled some defenses that were pointed out in previous reconnaissance efforts. The Artillery delivered most of the damage suffered to the surrounding buildings and the main street itself, Hummel 155mm howitzers conducted several barrages on the current Attack Sector. Armored vehicles soon enough began to file into Aleksandrovka as Panzergrenaiders hurried out of their vehicles and into cover as the Armored vehicles began to attract enemy fire. 7mm Mauser rounds were what was spat back at the enemy as unmanned machine gun turrets atop the Armored vehicles fired back at the enemy, most were in surrounding buildings. A small convoy of vehicles on the street began to advance in the face of enemy fire, several rockets had been fired at them too however their countermeasures defeated their attempts. Panzers soon enough fell in with the convoy as they stopped ever so often to fire their main guns at sections of a building where enemy fire was coming from. Panzergrenaiders covered the ground and the vehicles advancing into the city itself as they moved building to building, sending in crack teams of soldiers to check out surrounding buildings. At least an entire regiment of them had arrived so far and more were on their way from different avenues of approach. Other regiments making up the 51st were already pushing through the suburbs as they fought their way through stubborn Red Army resistance, snipers and the occasional fixed position. Additional divisions coming from the 207th Army were already advancing up the outskirts towards the current front-lines as several batteries of fixed Morser 18 211mm howitzer guns shelled the defenders almost constantly.

"Fritz, hussle up!" A crouched NCO said from across the road as he sat in cover behind a wall. Fritz was a Soldat in the 51st and was pooled into the 1st regiment, 3rd battalion. The echoing sounds of explosions and gunfire was near constant as black smoke gathered in the sky above the decaying city that was being destroyed in battle. It was however quiet in the area as the Soldat quickly crossed the road with his rifle as to dodge potential sniper fire as he made it to cover. The next man was already moving too as the ones after did too, at least a whole squad had made it across now. A small row of shops further down the road were ablaze as the smoke plumed out of the raging inferno and fed into the darkened sky. The small squad moved on the left of the road as they kept alert of their surroundings, Fritz was last in line as he covered the rear. As they advanced further down the road the sound of gunfire was becoming louder and more frantic as they pressed on. A trench line had been dug into the pavement at an intersection as the surrounding buildings had also been occupied by the defenders. Other Ordenite units were already here and were being pinned down by the Red Army defenders who had set up multiple machine gun nests and were also using mortars. The small squad had already got to cover near by as they got into the fight, the NCO directed the men on where to position themselves to engage the enemy in which they opened fire on the surrounding buildings first to suppress the machine guns. They stuck to the alleyways for cover as they peeked out only to fire back at the enemy. The first mortar round came in near by as it shook the ground when it exploded, sending up smoke and other debris.

The flow of Ordenite infantry did not decrease as the rest of the regiment and more were heading down the same direction, some split off into the alleyways and neighboring streets going deeper into the labyrinth of apartment blocks and other infrastructure. Panzer V light tanks traversed the urban environment even as they provided limited armored support to the infantry as the battle continued for the intersection. Red Army soldiers still held the trench line but were being suppressed as they occasionally chucked over frag grenades to keep Ordenite infantry back. Mortar fire continued to come in over head as craters in the ground were made from the explosions. The buildings were still in Red Army hands as Ordenite infantry began to group up and clear them out from there positions in the apartment blocks. The apartment complexes were a battle of their own as the Red Army soldiers inside had booby trapped and fortified certain areas of the apartment, forcing the Ordenites into close quarters combat and hand to hand fighting. Grenades were thrown back and forth inside the corridors and apartments themselves as every hall way had to be fought for and cleared of the enemy. Mean while the trench line was still in Red Army hands as they continued to hold out till the last man presumably, which the Ordenites were prepared to give them as they narrowed their position to the Artillery further behind their own lines for a fire mission. Morser 16 105mm light howitzers soon enough bombarded the trench line and the area surrounding it with shells as smoke and dust impaired their view for a few moments in the aftermath of the artillery strike.

"Let's go, move forward!" The NCO barked as he led his squad toward the trench line as his men fell in with him, Fritz was again in the rear and made sure not to trip up over the rubble and other debris scattered about the urban landscape. The men in front of him soon enough disappeared into the smoke and dust as he followed them too. He hadn't realized how close he was to the trench its self until he fell into it himself, his other squad mates having jumped down before him and were traversing it. Picking himself up and dusting himself off he began to walk the trench line in search of his squad, stepping over the fallen Red Army soldiers who had once manned the trench. He felt something touching his ankle as he looked down and noticed a Red Army soldier on his back grabbing his ankle with a bloody hand, Fritz could almost scream but did not as he used the butt of his assault rifle to clobber the soldier's skull in as his hand went limp. He continued on as the war raged on around him in search of his fellow squad mates.

Kokshlovo, Western Sector,
35th Panzer Korps, 4th Army.

The Western sector was the scene of a battle between machines as tanks from both sides plunged together in the battlefield. The 35th Panzer Korps which consisted of mostly armor but also had a panzergrenaider element within it which was the 72nd Panzergrenaider Division. While the armored element consisted of the 44th Panzer Division, 121st Panzer Division, 108th Heavy Panzer Division and the 59th Panzer Division. They were one of the forward elements of the 4th Army and were some of the first to engage with elements of the 43rd Tank Army. Panzer X and Panzer IX tanks battled it out with Lyran armor which were common of purchase from minor powers and or would be offered as military aid likely from the People's Unified Federation. The tanks were of course accompanied by Puma X Infantry fighting vehicles equipped with a 50mm auto cannon and some variants able to fire a ATGM. Multiple variants of the Sd.Kfz 371 armored vehicle were also present about the battlefield as part of the 72nd Panzergrenaiders. What was boasted by the Ordenite Army and the Krupp Armaments Corporation as the most cutting edge of Ordenite design and military poweress was the Raketenpanzer 33 Armored Missile Carrier that had first been proposed by the Krupp Armaments Corporation to the Ordenite Reichsministry of Defense in 2027 and was produced in late January of 2028. Now it was in full service and was already being tested in battle, it certainly gave more of an edge to the Ordenites as the Raketenpanzer's would be able to strike at their foes from longer distances than the Panzers could and was sure to eliminate their target too. The 43rd Tank Army was already beginning to weaken as the onslaught from the Ordenites was starting to become too much for them as some of their units began to route from the battlefield. Ordenite artillery made their presence felt here too as Hummel IV self propelled howitzers bombarded the enemy with concentrated fire. Panzerwerfer batteries showered the enemy in rockets as they focused fire on the concentrated mass of enemy armor that was put in front of them by the enemy.

Combined elements of the 4th Army and the 2nd Army on the Western sector were able to break the 43rd Tank Army's position there as they begun to route wherever they could. Rear guard units of the enemy put up a stubborn resistance in order to safeguard their comrades from being completely destroyed in battle. The outskirts of Kokshlovo in the west were being swallowed up by the advancing Ordenite Army as their Panzergrenaider elements made their move into the western parts of the metropolis in order to collapse it's defense. It was already becoming obvious that the tide of battle was changing once again as the Ordenites and Krasnovans were now coming on top over the Red Army and their peasant armies. The Red Army's grip on the western half of the city was already being challenged by the Ordenites who had broken through their defenses as more ground was lost. Red Army and Peasant conscripts alike were already surrendering in droves as it was clear they did not have the upper hand any more, tens of thousands already did with more to come. What Red Army defenders were still able to man their positions in the west did so valiantly as they engaged the Ordenites in running street battles, gritty urban warfare at it's finest. Entire city blocks were ravaged in short order due to the intensity of the fighting being done by both sides, neither sparing any mercy to the environment around them and to those that still inhabited the dying city. The desperation would soon reach a boiling over point as Red Army soldiers were regularly tasked with forcibly conscripting civilians they found into immediate service as casualties ran high for them.

Rag-tag teams of civilian clothed conscripts soon enough began filling defensive positions all about the western half of Kokshlovo, given weapons taken off of the fallen before them as they were forced to fight a war they never asked for and got what they feared. Many of these civilian conscripts were considered insurgents and the fate of insurgents was death indefinitely as Ordenite soldiers that the civilians tried to surrender to instead lined them up somewhere and executed them post haste. The city had become a hellish landscape of death and war with decades of innovation and living being torn down in the span of over a month. Red Army snipers were still a constant threat to the infantry on the ground as the snipers regularly used surrounding buildings to their advantage, switching between multiple firing positions to harass Ordenite units. The Oberkommando des Armee had made it clear in the rules of engagement for Kokshlovo, that the amount of force used in the liberation of the city was at the discretion of the field commanders. Many of them had already allowed the widespread destruction of the infrastructure if it meant that the Army was victorious. As if the Army had learned from past experiences of Urban warfare in Panooly City and New Impen and Gryazanaya about the destruction of infastructure such as surrounding buildings, in which the rubble could be fortified into a even more impregnable defensive position for the enemy. In these cases the battles were drawn out for hours on end as the new positions had to again be cracked by the Infantry. The city's underground was also being fought for as the Red Army regularly used the sewage tunnels to move without harassment from artillery to other positions. Crack teams of selected Ordenite infantry would be sent into the tunnels to root out the enemy below, echoing gun fire and screams could be heard from certain man-holes in the streets as men lost their lives below ground as well as above.

The Red Army were starting to lose ground everywhere in the city as Fedorov himself considered escape or suicide. The eastern sector was also suffering from the Ordenite onslaught as much of Kokshlovo's industrial capacity was being overrun in fierce battles. The Krasnovans were also beginning to break-out of their predicament and were pressing the center with ferocity as many defenders chose to flee in the face of their foes. It was already being realized that defeat for the enemy in Kokshlovo was rapidly approaching and the Wehrmacht was already looking further east towards the developing Union Line.

[United World Order]

75KM from New Impen, Gluchow village,
Army Sector North. Army Group Kraus

It had only been a matter of days almost a week rather that the city of Kokshlovo was declared 'liberated' by the Oberkommando des Armee. It had come with a cost with over a entire month of fighting to secure the city, at least 1,020 men had been killed. The Krasnovans had lost almost 60,000 men in the fiasco surrounding them due to unforeseen events in battle. Red Army casualties in the Battle for Kokshlovo were estimated at over 200,000 however these numbers were still being disputed with the official number of Red Army prisoners taken by the Ordenite Army being almost 218,000. This was a massive success for the Ordenite Army with the city's capitulation they were well on their way to New Impen and to Susol too. What Red Army formations were able to escape the fall of Kokshlovo retreated to the north into the forests as they would seek to reach the Union Line which one of it's major strong points was on the approach to the now fortress that was New Impen. The defensive line stretched from the frontier with the Commonwealth held Tuktar zone to the coasts of Uslan as the strategic picture was that the Union Line was going to be the last major defensive line before Susol, meaning that if the Union Line was penetrated and defeated then the Ordenites and Krasnovans would threaten the Peninsula its self. It was estimated by the Abwehr and other military statistics that roughly 6 million Red Army forces occupied the Union Line and the major cities it defended such as New Impen, Gryaznaya and Uslan. The majority were said to be Peasant armies that were filling up most of the manpower with a minority of roughly 400,000 ordinary Red Army soldiers with many of them being native Zvezdan. This all came from extensive reconnaissance and intelligence gathering missions conducted by the Abwehr. At this point it was expected that resistance from the Red Army was going to become fierce as they were edging ever so closer to the former border with the Zvezdan peninsula.

The Union Air Force still had relative presence in the air up to this point in the war. Lyran planes continued to stalk the battlefields below as planes from the Luftwaffe met them in battle too. UAF support for their Red Army comrades had declined for the most part however they were sometimes able to provide needed support to the ground. However Ordenite anti-air elements were very much successful in repelling UAF aircraft and kept the skies defended for the most part. Luftwaffe superiority in the skies was already beginning to be felt as ground attack aircraft seized the opportunity to exert their will on the battlefield below as they intervened in battles, pummeling Red Army positions and tanks with precision bombs. Luftwaffe logistics were now becoming easier to facilitate as a steady stream of supplies were coming in to keep the war going for the Army. Their was still resistance that had to be swept up in the outlying areas outside of Kokshlovo but the war progressed still. Army Group Kraus was already pressing forth through the plains towards New Impen and Gryazanaya which was mostly dealing with Red Army formations that had escaped from Kokshlovo. In the past week since the fall of Kokshlovo, the forward elements of Army Group Kraus which was the 77th Panzer Corps and the 120th Grenadier Division had cleared the village of Gluchow in quick order as the Red Army had little to no presence here. The village was filled with Ordenite armored vehicles and tanks as the soldiers had decided to set up camp here. Neighboring villages were also taken swiftly by the armor and mechanized forces of the Ordenite Army that faced the Red Army in battle.

The first sign of what was the Union Line was discovered by reconnaissance elements from the 120th Grenadier Division which sent back to their superiors, detailed pictures and other data that was obtained. Bunkers had been erected by the Red Army on the approaches to the New Impen fortress, these bunkers were assumed to run underground as well. Trenches were also seen by reconnaissance drones that were filled with Red Army Conscripts and were typically near by a bunker complex. It was soon becoming clear of what was going on as the Abwehr had sent a detailed report on the evidence of a new defense line by the Soviets to the Oberkommando des Wehrmacht which then resulted in the Krasnovan Army and militias coming from Kokshlovo receiving intelligence on the Union Line and followed suite with Ordenite forces in tackling it. The Red Army had built an extensive defense line that covered the remaining eastern cities in the north from attack and these defenses would be tested now against the Ordenites and Krasnovans. The villagers were forced to quarter their homes to the soldiers as many were simply forced out of their homes with little to no preparation. Tents were erected in little time as those that didn't decide to leave the village outright, slept inside the tents provided by the soldiers. Patrols of armed Ordenite soldiers was now plenty common in and outside Gluchow as villagers were questioned at random by soldiers, made to show identification and sometimes interrogated by soldiers on suspicion. Sandbags were erected near the main approaches into and out of the village as these became firing positions for Ordenite rifleman in case of attack. Trucks were a lot of what the traffic in and out of the village was mostly as logistics trucks regularly traveled through the village.

It wasn't long before the Secret Field Police made an appearance in the village as they stopped outside of a local business that had been reported by some residents that it was a front for Soviet resistance against the occupation of Gluchow by the Ordenite Army. Local police officials also accompanied the Secret Field Police as they stormed the business with firearms drawn, as they caught two men by surprised and restrained them with ease. A further search of the establishment would see them find several more men in the back area with automatic weapons around them as the police officers and Field Police stormed the room and took them by surprise as well. One of them was able to pull his sidearm but was swiftly put down with two rounds to the face from a Secret Field Police agent armed with a assault rifle. The rest were taken with no further blood shed as they were detained and escorted out to the waiting van as they put them inside quickly. The van sped off once everyone was accounted for as the local police were left at the scene to clean up and do paper work over the incident to cover what really occurred. Raids orchestrated by the Secret Field Police would soon occur nearly every week as hundreds of people would systematically be taken into custody and never seen again by their loved ones and friends. The next day the village was buzzing with activity as the Ordenites in the village had received orders to move forward as they had been told. Armored vehicles, tanks and other vehicles possessed by the Ordenite Army began to empty out of Gluchow and were heading further north towards the Union Line its self.

[Morrdh]

Morrdun,
Commonwealth of Morrdh

Whittleton had, in a way, been dreading this meeting with the Defence Council since his unexpected (to him at least) victory in the party leadership contest. He'd been happy to agree on contingency plans on the expectation that his successor would be the one who made the decision whether to implement any of them, though as it turned out his successor was...himself.

Damn... was a curse that he muttered when the realization hit him. Now he had to make the call that could potentially see the Commonwealth becoming embroiled into another war. Though he had already determined that having the Commonwealth stand idle could ultimately prove disastrous, some form of action need to be taken. But what?

It was a question he pondered as Sir Terence briefed the Defence Council on developments since the last meeting and how advanced the contingency plans were. At last the Chief of the Defence Staff declared, "...And finally Flag Officer Submarines reports that his assets are ready and awaiting the word."

"I see." Replied Whittleton, pausing to think for a moment before adding. "Tell him... Tell him that the word is given."

"Very well sir," Sir Terence nodded grimly, then detailed an aid to dispatch a FLASH message. Further encrypted, high priority messages went out from the Admiralty to strategically placed Morridane naval units in and around Central Dienstadi waters. Codes were authenticated and sealed orders opened. The submariners of the Royal Morridane Navy had just been let off the leash.