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Patria Delenda Est (IC | TWI ONLY | CLOSED)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]

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Dormill and Stiura
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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Wed Dec 05, 2018 11:32 am

"So you want a favorable relationship?" Dyson began, mildly annoyed at the petulance the Prefect was emanating that stank like a mule, or a hog fresh from finishing its meal, "While you had sent troops into Alban without even consulting with the local government.", a pause and a long sigh, This had better work out, he said to himself before continuing, "I understand that the Governor of Kapolder said the situation had prevented him from directly acting, but that never left Arván with free reign to act either. It wasn't that the dispute between us was a factor, but whether he was allowed to deploy Citizen's Guards troops into a Federal Territory. For as much as I appreciate your support there I have to request that your troops leave the city limits of Alban and leave the border with Lieurneux, as is compliant with the sovereignty of the Territory of Arván and the United Republics.", he wasn't entirely sure if the Prefect would comply with that kind of order, but with the Overlord all but guaranteeing the sovereignty of the territory, he knew that a disloyal Prefect would be dealt with in a proper manner. "After you're done with that, feel free to meet me in Courlaroux, we can discuss whatever else ails your mind then and there.", Then again ... , he thought while putting down the phone, having the prefect on my side as well would certainly strengthen the case for a partition, and I can do it without having to worry about appeasing the Overlord, another confident smile washed over his face, in a brief shock he quickly grabbed for his bag, recovered his shaving kit, and left for the nearest bathroom to fix himself up.
Last edited by Dormill and Stiura on Wed Dec 05, 2018 11:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Almorea » Fri Dec 07, 2018 2:55 pm

Bureau of Intelligence | Ellsburgh

Once upon a time, the Bureau's building had been the home of lavish furnishings; in the heady days of the 1970s, remembered fondly by the old-timers in the intelligence community, agents reviewed files in large leather armchairs and spacious cubicles. The windows had even been draped with crimson hangings, to the taste of a past Director who had listened too much to his wife.

The budget cuts of the 2010s, however, had forced the Bureau to part with many of the finer trappings of a well-funded public agency. On this cold December day, the man who entered the building through a side door found little to greet his sunken eyes but walls and floors. The color scheme, white and gray, was also distinctly dull.

The man, ever observant, could not help but draw a little annoyance from the rapid tap-tap of the accompanying female aide's high heels on the floor. The long white walls, now that he was deeper into the building, gave way here and there to doors, colored a dark crisp gray. Once in a while, a functionary or staffer would pass, and at each instance would avert their eyes from him.

Perhaps his face, displaying a furrowed brow, hook nose, and lips pressed habitually into a thin line, exuded a certain unpleasant quality; certainly the man's eyes, a light gray charged with dark emotion like the sky before an electric storm, warned unsuspecting strangers to be wary.

The tapping of heels abruptly stopped before a nondescript door, with a small window inserted awkwardly just right of center. The aide turned, pursed her lips, and gave a tiny cough.

"The Deputy Director is inside. He's been waiting."

The man nodded and turned the door handle. The room that was revealed was plain as the rest of the building; it contained merely a small, clean metal table, some chairs, and a pale light fixed on the ceiling. The walls were gray. A chubby man, dressed in a double-breasted suit, sat on one end of the table, and upon the man's entrance he extended his hand in greeting. An agent in dark glasses stood, obscured by the light's shadow, in the corner.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, at long last. You know who I am." The Deputy Director waited expectantly for a response, but none came. He reached into a black attache case under the table and produced a manila folder. "You'll be needing this."

The man sat on the other end of the table. The Deputy Director took in his uncomely features, which were married to very broad shoulders- like a bull, he thought to himself. He was well over six feet, and his legs had come to rest uncomfortably close to the Deputy Director's own. The Deputy Director stole a glance at the awkward situation as he pulled out another folder from his case. Setting it on the table, he opened it and began to read aloud.

"Leomaris Absinthe, born March 19, 1979. Six feet, four inches tall; 255 pounds. It says here," he announced, squinting as he read, "that you've done exemplary work with Athara Magarati Intelligence spying on MSTO nuclear programs." He paused. "You've also done things that could make this country look very bad."

Absinthe's lips relaxed and formed a smile, the first he had given that day. He opened his mouth, thought otherwise, and then opened it again. "I've killed people, Deputy Director, if that's what you're implying."

The Deputy Director also smiled. "Yes, that is what I'm implying. But you aren't here today so I can ask you to do it again. Your folder is very sensitive, and it comes right from the top. Why don't you give it a look?"

Absinthe opened the cover. To his mild surprise, the visage of the Noronnican Prime Minister, his face hardened into a scowl, greeted him. A wealth of biographical information gave context; Joshua J. McIntosh, born 1972. Attended boarding school, served in the military. Elected to Nolon City Council in 2009; Home Secretary in 2010; Defense Secretary in 2014. Became Prime Minister in 2017 after a political crisis. Paragraphs about the tug-of-war between McIntosh and the Overlord followed.

The Deputy Director stared at Absinthe, waiting for his face to show some sign of interest, but in this expectation he was disappointed. After reading for several minutes, Absinthe closed the folder.

"With respect, I don't see why I was given this. I might've found this information on the Internet. What is the mission, Deputy Director?"

"Why don't you keep reading, Leomaris? I don't think you got to the pertinent part."

Absinthe sighed and flipped through the papers. His eyes widened, involuntarily, when he came to one of the last ones.

Patrick MacLean, born August 3, 1981. Attended King's College in Ellsburgh 1999-2003, National Staffing School 2003-2005. Moved to Noronica in 2005; attended Queen Magaidh's Collegiate 2006-2007. Master's degree in international relations and policy analysis.

"It's a resume," Absinthe said, his curiosity piqued. Recommended by Center for Proactive Policy Analysis. Absinthe looked up at the Deputy Director. "Infiltration?" He had heard the word few times in his career.

The Deputy Director nodded. "Yes, Leomaris. This assignment comes from very high up, as I told you. You're to infiltrate the Prime Minister's staff, and, if I were to put it simply, spy on him."

Absinthe glanced down at the picture of McIntosh, taking in the contours of his face. "There's more, no?"

"We're giving you very broad discretion. We'll always be in contact; you will report anything, movements, conversations, military matters. I can tell you that this mission serves both a diplomatic and military purpose."

Absinthe had heard enough rumors of Almorean sympathy for the Overlord to know what the Deputy Director meant. A dark cloud settled over his mind. The last thing he wanted to do this winter was an assignment in Noronica; the days were dark and dreary enough at home. Absinthe had worked in the Bureau for fifteen years; a career agent, he had broken himself under the weight of self-expectation. He was almost forty, and had nothing to his cosmic credit save espionage and a few assassinations, blunted in his memory by alcohol. Antidepressants had recently replaced drinking; Absinthe was constantly at pains to hide both habits from his handlers.

An order was an order, however. And there were few career options for a disowned ex-spy.

As Absinthe brooded, the Deputy Director scraped his chair back and stood up. The agent behind him crossed his arms as his boss extended his hand again.

"You can go, Leomaris. There's an aide outside who'll take you to an apartment. The plane to Noronica leaves tomorrow."

"Is it that soon?" Absinthe asked, visibly enervated.

The Deputy Director broke into a broad smile. "Of course! Don't you already live there, Mr. MacLean?"
Last edited by Almorea on Fri Dec 07, 2018 2:56 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Postby Noronica » Sat Dec 15, 2018 12:21 pm

State Palace, Nolon City, Noronica

Joshua smiled, the soothing tune of classical music permeating the air, wafting towards him to envelop him in an embrace. He sped up his pace, swiftly moving through the halls with ever-growing grace, his body becoming more in tune with the music. He pushed open the ballroom door and set his glass of whisky on a nearby table, greeted with the sight of Beatrice flowing across the stage in fluid motions, her eyes closed in quiet concentration.

Joshua let himself join the flow of movements, his smile growing warmer as he clasped his wife's hand. The two began to dance to the music, their movements in a loving union as they skimmed across the floor with light feet. Their clothes glistened in the room's light, Beatrice's dress made all the more stunning as it shone in the warm glare of the room. Joshua leaned in close, prompting a small smile to grace Beatrice's features, as the two moved with ease around the room.

It was beautiful, the music wrapping the two of them in warmth as they danced, their only audience being the stars sprinkling the moonlit sky. It was with music that Joshua could let himself go, let himself breathe, as there were no issues or pressures in the dance. The dance was his lord, as it moved him like a puppeteer, although this puppet was a very willing participant.

"It has been so long since the last time this happened Joshua," Beatrice whispered into Joshua's neck, her movements now slowing as she spoke. She beamed up at him with warmth, an affection rarely seen on national television.

Joshua nodded sadly, "I am always too busy Bee. I wish I could spend time with you, but we both knew what this marriage would entail." He said, his eyes staring into the distance.

It seemed with impeccable timing that this was when the music was cut short and a cough resounded around the room. The two turned to see Malcolm Schmitt standing with a stressed look in his eyes.

"You go Bee, I need to sort this out." Joshua said, urging his wife to go. His face grew cold, he was not too pleased to be interrupted.

Even before Beatrice left, Malcolm began to speak, "He is going to despise you for it." He said, his voice only slightly masking his anger.

Joshua scoffed dismissively, "Oh? You would let him enter the city? What, with his miniature army as well?"

For the first time in his long career, Malcolm began to shout, "This is the fucking Remembrance Day Josh! The media is already in a massive shitstorm and you decided to go an fuck around with the nation's tears by stopping the Overlord from entering the city to address the public?"

Joshua growled, "Careful." He said, his voice barely above a whisper, "We may be friends outside of this working relationship but I need not remind you who is your Prime Minister." The two spent a tense moment glaring at one another, the room seeming to dim in their aggression.

With a sigh, Joshua broke away first, "I understand the anger Malcolm, but there was no other way to contain this. Let the man stew on his island, he will not move against us now. Besides, I read some of the posts on Twitter, many support the idea of moving on from remembrance."

Malcolm sounded desperate now, "But the others Josh! The others are moving in for the kill! We have no outside support, and you make this move now? When we have no mobilised force to move against him if this goes belly-up?"

"Which is exactly why we do not let him in. There are too many factors at play here, that so much of a toe of his touches an inch the city, there might be a rally of support." A smile took to his features, "Oh, and do not be so sure about the latter point, guess where a small part of the budget for Lord Montague is going."

Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose, "I have no time for guessing games Josh."

"A little trip to Dormill and Stiura." He said, "We'll leave him for now, but with him speaking to them, perhaps there is room for opportunity?"

Before Malcolm left the room, Joshua gave one last request, "Oh and Malcolm, let me speak to Patrick MacLean, the new guy. I want to introduce him to cabinet tomorrow."

Courlaroux, Dormill and Stiura

Lord Montague had to admit that he was impressed. Dormill and Stiura had been another imperial power of the region, and therefore some of its paintings and displays were of awe-inspiring battles far-afield. As much as the two nations despised one another at the best of times, there were too many similarities between one another. Granted that both cultures and systems were utterly different, but their intentions and symbols were the same. He smirked as he viewed a painting of one of the naval battles of the First Central Argus War, there is a fine line between hate and love. As it happened, that fine line was his Arván.

It had taken several days to negotiate the trip to Courlaroux, most notably due to the prevention of any political overseas trips what with the Overlord using his privilege of travel to spark up rebellious support. However, he had managed to get approval due to this situation being a rather delicate matter, what with soldiers being at stake. The situation had since calmed, but since no Nolon bureaucrats were in Arván, they did not know the reality of the situation. A little spicing added to the tale was warranted, he felt.

Walking up to the receptionist, he spoke with impatience, "I have been waiting for quite some time now, has there been any notice of the President concluding his current business?"

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Dormill and Stiura
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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Sat Dec 15, 2018 12:48 pm

Palace of the President, Presidential Office, Courlaroux
"Are you sure you want to stay for this Keira? It's going to be a dreadful show trying to convince this man to ease things in Arván." Cedar asked in a nonchalant manner, adjusting his controversially bright yellow tie, which clashed horribly against his navy blue jacket. Nobody really understood why he wore such a gaudy tie, it was never useful for formalwear. Regardless, he kept it on much to his Vice President's protestation.

"Yes, Cedar. Of course I want to stay." Keira responded in kind, "I've been your Vice President for the last three years yet I've never been side by side with you in a diplomatic meeting. I want to see what it's like.", as she finished, she brushed up her skirt and sat in the couch aside the President, where the pair would sit in front of the Prefect of Arván. Cedar gave a quick nod to the security personnel in front of him, prompting the man to contact the designated area where Lord Montague had stood waiting.

"The President will see you now, Mr. Montague. Straight ahead and through the doors." Grumbling briefly under his breath in the general direction of the receptionist, Lord Montague proceeded past the remnants of the Palace's security to the doors into the President's office.

Bowing at him as he walked through the doors opened by the Presidential Guards, Cedar quickly began the pleasantries, "My Lord Bartholomew Montague, Honorable Prefectorial Governor of Arván. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you face to face." a beaming smile painted the President's face as he raised from his bow and began walking towards the Prefect, hand already outstretched, "And may I introduce the Honorable Madam Vice President Keira Aalders, who has joined us today for our discussions."
Last edited by Dormill and Stiura on Sat Dec 15, 2018 12:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Noronica
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Postby Noronica » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:29 pm

After his terse exchange with the receptionist, Lord Montague was wearing a dark scowl on his face. As soon as the door opened, it was replaced with a simpering smile and a short bow to match the President's.

Returning from his bow, he spoke graciously, "Monsieur President," he began before turning to the Vice-President, "Madame la vice-présidente." Admittedly, while his pronunciation was good, his knowledge of French was lacking. Deciding on English, he continued, "The pleasure is all mine I assure you. To meet with my southern counterpart is something that will remain etched in my memory for the longest time." It was a jump to be sure, he was in no way the President's counterpart, but Lord Montague was most definitely stuck in the moment and he loved the sensation of importance he felt.

"I must say how glad I am that the mess of before was cleared up. I must apologise for any stress caused to you and your people in that instance. It is with my hopes that we might smooth over that issue and perhaps begin to, ah... come to a better understanding with each other. While Noronica is under a little confusion, I hope to be the harbinger of good news to my people and as a consequence create a new age of Noro-Dormill-Stiuraian relations." Lord Montague said, sinking into his offered seat delicately.
Last edited by Noronica on Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:46 pm

Stuffing a small laugh at the rigid French of the visitor, Keira was the first between the two to speak up, "We are equally as glad that the situation was resolved without much confrontation. I'm sure the residents of South Alban had a brief moment to calm down before Tuseday, Cedar assures me that they get pretty rowdy after a game, especially a victory against Veldzicht.", talk of football was certainly uncourtly, but the pair enjoyed their making fantasy teams with the rest of the staff, and with the great diversity of fans meant that gamedays were always filled with fun throughout the Palace.

"In more related matters," Cedar began, sitting next to Keira, "I am glad you pulled your forces from Alban, it was a bit of a mess frankly but if nothing else it catalyzed our meeting here and now so we can finally hammer out something to end our stalemate over the peninsula, at least to the extent the Governor of Arván can given the present political situation in Nolon." Folding his legs over each other in a relaxed pose, he continued, "I'm sure you caught the latest from the Gwynon Times today? The Overlord barred from his own city by the Prime Minister, and on such an important day too. I do hope, however, that you've brought good news for me instead."
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Postby Noronica » Sun Dec 16, 2018 5:31 pm

"Heh," Lord Montague breathed, rubbing his arm slightly, "I must concede that the political situation on the mainland is rather tense. Of course," he said, confidence returning to his voice, "the media love spicing things up a little, so I am sure you can understand that we are not in, as the Times stated, 'a winter of discontent'. The remembrance day is usually on the nineteenth of December, so I am inclined, as many of my countrymen are, to believe that the Government is simply cancelling the event as described in the quoted address by the Prime Minister." His voice was eloquent and soothing, attempting to instil calm in the two opposite him.

He clasped his hands together and leaned forward slightly, "Oh, and please do not be concerned by my level of authority, an overseas Prefect is granted many more powers and prerogatives to conduct diplomacy with neighbouring states. I was placed in the leadership of Arván to give the Arvanan people peace and prosperity, if that involves communicating and dealing with the President of Dormill and Stiura and his Vice-President, then the Prime Minister and the Overlord for that matter, are content." Technically, he was correct. He had a modicum of leeway in his position as Arván was special, it had always been special. Governors and later Prefects were given the daunting task of doing much more than most. It was the frontier territory, and so his actions were usually given little thought if it meant continued prosperity. Of course, his plans were not exactly pure and without mal-intentions.

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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Sun Dec 16, 2018 6:10 pm

Still holding up his smile, Cedar decided to test how far the Prefect would go for "peace and prosperity", "I am glad in that case you came all this way to talk, my lord. For I do also wish to bring the people of Arván peace and prosperity. Ever since the Second War began I was concerned at how quickly Noronica acted without even acknowledging the Treaty of St. Recont, or the provisions that we would both work to preserve the Republic of Arván. So hopefully this time, if Noronica does any more acting in Arván, that we are well informed of proceedings."

Keira was slightly concerned at Cedar's shift in tone as it became more demanding and abrasive, tapping his thigh lightly and taking over a part of the conversation herself, "I'm sure the three of us can figure out something tentative to ease the tensions. We already have an informal agreement in Swaneeak Atoll that we respect each others administration there, maybe we can make it official, establish a precedent for cooperation between our two governments that can be extended to Arván, maybe set the stage for a Republican-Noronnican Alliance."

"You know I had almost forgotten about Swaneeak", Cedar remarked, it wasn't far from the truth as the atoll was not much in the news since the Negarakitan annexation of Dulung Island, and that was easily resolved between the amicable governments. "Though Swaneeak doesn't directly involve you, my lord, we can certainly work together on an agreement for Arván under the conditions of settling our old disputes. However I must ask, are you sure that the Government, and probably more importantly, the Overlord, would be willing to sit down and talk about Arván in such a manner? Like we are now." Cedar was already sure that the Overlord, through Prince Trystan, was willing to negotiate Arván, but he wasn't sure about the Government's stance, assuming the opposition to the Overlord also meant, for the meantime, opposition to negotiating over the peninsula.
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Postby Noronica » Wed Dec 19, 2018 9:16 am

"Mister President, can we afford to wait?" Lord Montague stated bluntly, "While the Overlord has mentioned further discussion on Arván, I am not sure that the Prime Minister would want to entertain the idea of doing much with the peninsula with domestic troubles as they are." He chuckled, "I assure you, sir and ma'am, I would not act in such a manner if I were dealing with this as PM." His eyes widened slightly as the words tumbled from his lips. If only words were physical and he could retrieve them. He was allowing impulsion to take over.

He sat back quickly, attempting to appear relaxed, "But alas, that is a silly inconsequential notion." He sniggered nervously, "What I shall say is that if this issue remains as it is, I can assure you that Government reluctance would not remain. Noronica must entertain the idea of negotiation and as its frontier Prefect, I should be the one to begin discussions." He let his arms relax on the arms of his chair, "That, I can assure you with utter confidence, is entirely within my purview as Prefect of Arván. As I am not Prime Minister nor Overlord, I cannot put plans into action, but I can be the architect before they lay the bricks, as it were."

He let out a breath, had he spoken too fast? Was his earlier faux-pas noticed?

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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Wed Dec 19, 2018 12:01 pm

Cedar Dyson was never a good poker player. Not for a lack of trying however, he found the game enjoyable as a test of both skill and luck, but there was always one thing that tripped him up back in the days he played, keeping up a poker face. When he had a strong hand, it was not easy for him to keep a calm demeanor, even more so when he was certain that his opponents would not be able to beat his hand. Even as President, where keeping up appearances in different situations was critical, he had a history of slipping up, showing his opponent and the audience exactly how he felt at any particular moment. It was luck, in this case, that regardless of that he won the Presidency. The moment he heard Montague confirm what the Bureau had already assessed, he could feel a grin infect his face, once the Prefect slipped and confirmed the Prince's plan to usurp the government of Noronica, he had to quickly stand up and walk towards the window of his office, covering his lips so the Prefect wouldn't see how ecstatic he was that the Prince's suggestion wasn't hot air.

Keira, well versed in how to handle her President in a situation where he couldn't talk for fear of harming the negotiation, stepped up again to finish the conversation, "We deeply appreciate your willingness to work with us on the situation of Arván, Lord Prefect. You have my support as a member of the Council of Dormill and Stiura that we will begin considering such negotiations. And I'm sure that the President will be overjoyed to work with you as well." She paused for a moment, looking over at the President who has become a statue on the other side of the room, "I believe, all being said, that we've come to an agreement. The United Republics will endeavor to work with the Lord Prefect of Arván to settle the territorial dispute between our two governments. The National Congress has to debate whether or not we will go forward with this, but I am confident that they will be happy to finally resolve the issue in Arván; after that, we will send a Minister to your government to begin more official negotiations." She stood up, and walked towards the Prefect to shake his hand, "Thank you for coming down here and discussing this. I hope this will be the start of a wonderful new relationship between our nations.", she said, her tone was truly authentic, there was no reason not to be happy about the turn of event. President Dyson, taking a deep breath and attempting to put on another poker face, turned back around and rendered another bow to the Prefect before shaking his hand as well, not saying anything in fear of spilling more of his emotions.

As the Prefect rendered his goodbyes and departed, Dyson's face loosened into a wonderful, awful grin. He had got everything he wanted, or so he thought.
Last edited by Dormill and Stiura on Wed Dec 19, 2018 12:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Noronica » Thu Dec 20, 2018 5:35 am

Nolon City, Noronica

"...The trial shall be held on the 20th January 2019..."

Joshua kept giddily replaying it on his phone, the declaration made by the Constitutional Court within Supreme Court building that the Overlord was to stand in trial accused of treason. He was ecstatic. His finger grew tired of swiping to the left, to that specific moment where the spokesperson paused before giving his speech. None of his policies, none of the polls, none of the engineered victories in the Federal Assembly could shine as brightly as this grand victory now.

It happened to be a calm morning in Noronica, the sunrise calmly crawling above the horizon, leaving behind a glorious legacy of colour and majesty. Something which Joshua could now say he reflected. As the car sped along Noronica's streets, Joshua could quite easily make out the light, watching as little particles of dust fluttered in the rays. He grinned, taking any of nature's beauty as some omen of greatness to come.

He liked to think that this was not a personal victory, but one for all Noronnicans. The Overlord was a thorn in all their sides, but he would wither under the spotlight of the law, Joshua would make sure of it. With this victory, the people would see a new age of Noronica, a new struggle for prosperity.

When the car finally came to a halt, he opened the door himself, having no time for waiting for his bodyguards. The press was immediately in his face, a sea of faces all crying out for answers. He rolled his shoulders back, oozing masculinity and success. He knew how to handle the camera, unlike many of his assemblymen who cringed in the lens. Taking on a solemn yet determined look, he gazed at one of the cameras and spoke loudly, "Today, you and the region shall hear the words that shall define Noronica's future. What is said in the Federal Assembly shall be a defining moment for our people." His visage was that of an arrogant billionaire rather than a politician, but he did not care, the world was his stage and all the others were merely his players.

Grasping the handlebars of the great steps of the Federal Assembly, he nearly jogged towards the entrance, his aides following swiftly behind. Once through the door, his private secretary, Henry Hallsbury, approached from the side.

His voice was out-of-breath but urgent, "Sir, I have been instructed to say that your speech shall begin at 11:30 exactly. I have edited the one you sent me, I did not like the term 'manhandled', it will rile up sympathisers for the Overlord sir. Another thin-"

Joshua stopped, almost causing many of his entourage to collide with others. He glared at Henry with a dangerous smile, "Sympathisers?"

"W-well sir yes, we must ensure that sympathisers are kept at bay." Exclaimed Henry with concern.

"After today, there shall be no Sympathisers. Those who oppose us are against our revolution of prosperity. We bring to the people tonight, their salvation." Joshua said, pausing as he watched his senior aide grow more and more uncomfortable. Twisting on his heels, he smiled as he heard Henry exhale loudly.

They soon approached the doors of the Federal Council Chamber, where both houses would be waiting to hear the official statement. All assemblymen had obviously heard the verdict of the Court, but that was declared by a rather dull man in his early sixties. This speech, this declaration, would be the one that was written in the history books, the one given long analysis by student essays for decades to come.

Joshua felt their anticipation as he walked along the central avenue of the chamber, watching keenly for the reactions of each assemblyman. He savoured the moment, taking this as his rightful revenge for all those weeks ago, when the Overlord took to doing the same. He could not help but smile as he walked to the speaker's chair, which was absent for his usage.

He diverted his course, however, confusing the chamber. He took to standing on the lower podium used by other parliamentarians. Some did not know why, but others knew immediately. This was a statement.

Joshua checked his watch and counted the seconds. He could see the cameras being twisted into position in the gallery above, their owners moving around like ants, swift and efficient.

...20...

Joshua tightened his tie on his neck and relaxed his body. He needed to be calm.

...10...

He noticed several latecomers struggle to find a spot in the crowded room.

...0...

Showtime, he thought. The cameras were live, and several thumbs were raised in the air. He did not plan to start, however, not yet. He waited for a moment, then another, then another. He surveyed the room, everyone was staring intently at him, their frantic faces revealing their wish, their need to hear what Joshua had to say.

Finally, Joshua pointed his index finger towards the speaker's chair behind him. He spoke loudly, "Why did I choose to stand here, not in that chair behind me? I chose it because I know my place in this nation. I am a citizen of Noronica, I am not a figure to be deified in higher standing than mortal men. That is a fanciful idea that stems from the past, and we, the people of this great country, stand on the precipice of the future. Today marks the day when the people of Noronica chose to move forward from its past and emerge from the depths into the light of the unknown."

He spoke with false solemness, "Today also marks the day that we must forego one of our greatest heroes. Tytus Alexander the First of his Name, Overlord of Noronica. When he concluded that war, his position was flawed. This Noronica was not the Noronica from decades past, but one designed by one man. The system worked, for a while, but it was always living on borrowed time. In times of crisis, the monarchy stepped where it should not, and it tested the will of the people too far. The Overlord should not act as a figure of authority, but something that acts as an emotional, spiritual and patriotic figurehead for us all, yet the position was tarnished by power. Instead it is I, a man of the people, who is granted the privilege of power. I do not blame nor do I vilify the actions of Tytus Alexander, but as any citizen, he must be treated as an equal under the eyes of the law."

His speech was mostly words and waffle, all designed to drive home his new victory. What mattered was the last statement that everyone had come to listen to. The cream of the crop. Noronnicans everywhere would listen to these words.

"Therefore, the Government and Federal Assembly do hereby demand under constitutional law that the Overlord submits his letter of abdication so that he may stand trial before the Supreme Court before the twentieth of January of two-thousand and nineteen. Naturally, he shall revoke all command of any military units currently under his control, due to his position of Commander-in-Chief being revoked."
Last edited by Noronica on Wed Dec 26, 2018 5:35 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Thu Dec 20, 2018 10:35 am

Presidential Office, Courlaroux


Throughout the week following the meeting between Prefect Montague and the President, Cedar went from overjoyed to simply defeated, left in his chair staring blankly at the camera in front of him, ready to deliver his order to the National Congress to reassemble. There was an air of comedic irony to this, however, as the night immediately after he won the little tussle with the Prefect, the Vancouvian Congress goes and really amps its neo-imperalism, declaring that they have a stated interest in the situation in Arván, and the east in general, and that they were reasserting their claims in Swaneeak Atoll. The League's response to this turn of events was even worse, as Athara Magarat and Ruios stood behind the Vancouvians, the former going as far as to initiate a blockade on the western side of Bezrus Oda, (the Agadarian name for the principle Island of the International District, typically used by Gaeltic nations as a sign of solidarity over the status of the island) followed so closely by a statement it was for "to protect the endangered marine animals", which was read through by every member with a brain between their skulls. The timely interruption of the Mennan delegate had silenced the public debate over the situation, but he was certain that sides were being made in the backrooms.

At the very least for him, reprieve came to him in the form of both the Svalbardian and Osean delegates in the League affirmed both their's and their government's support of Dormill and Stiura not only in that most testing of situations, but support for the nation in their actions in Noronica. Having the Svalbardians on his side meant the MSTO wouldn't be far behind, keeping them out of the brewing conflict in Noronica would be critical, the Oseans, being historical allies to Noronica, would show that Dormill and Stiura has the support of Noronica's long-time allies in their operation.

Unfortunately, that reprieve could not have been any more short lived as this morning began. News reported that just after dawn, the Constitutional Court of Noronica had assembled to make final deliberations on a sealed matter, the entire court was closed off to news teams during the deliberations. At 9:32 AM, a spokesperson for the Court, a one Harry McGloughny, came out to the public and announced the verdict. The Overlord of Noronica had been accused of the crime of Treason against the Overlordship of Noronica, and was to stand for trial in one month, on the 20th of January. Soon following that at 11:30, the Prime Minister ordered the Overlord to abdicate and submit to the trial. Cedar knew all too well that the Overlord would refuse the order. The Dutch certainly didn't after the Declaration of Veldzicht that started the Stiuraian Revolution, King Louis XVI surely didn't when the Dormillians did the exact same thing in 1790. History made it clear that when push came to shove between a King and his Kingdom, the King would never ever willingly step down. He knew full well that this would lead to a revolt by the Overlord against his own Government, that in his eyes illegally assembled to make these petulant demands. Cedar had to act quickly to respond. He knew that he could send in the Army or Navy to secure Dormill and Stiura's borders, but the National Congress would be livid that he made such an action while they were out of session. He also knew that having his government on his side would send a message that this is a unified response for peace and stability.

It is now 12:30 PM, he was staring at the camera in front of him, defeated, but not yet discouraged from doing what he knew must be done. And then he spoke.

Friends, Republikeinen, Dormill-Stiuraians, lend me your ears. The situation in the Isles has changed dramatically over the past few days. I know as much as the rest of you that the timing could not be worse in the face of impending Christmas celebrations, but the machinations of the political world cares not for the holidays we so cherish. As many of you may well know, the situation in our northern neighbor, the Overlordship of Noronica, has been deteriorating at a rate most frightening to the administration. The conflict between the Prime Minister and his Overlord has overshadowed Noronnican politics, and has infected the governments of the rest of the Isles, as they are all now primed for seemingly inevitable conflicts. In Bezrus Oda, the International District, the Vancouvians, Rouians, and Magaratis have committed themselves to displaying their power over one of the greatest testaments to international cooperation. The League of the Western Isles has attempted to respond to this situation, unfortunately, debates have been stalled and the writing is on the wall that there are lines being drawn in the sand, die are being cast. In Gresswell Island, Thuzbekistan again shows it is unwilling to cooperate with the international community by withdrawing itself unilaterally from an agreement that protected the island's sovereignty and nature as free from international conflict. In the Swaneeak Atoll, Vancouvia again shows that it desires more than what it has by "offering" payments for the surrender of the islands claimed by the many other nations present there, an offer which the United Republics declines. In Menna Shuli, their recent catastrophe, though receiving plenty of international aid, has not stopped vile elements from attacking those who had dedicated the lives of many men and women to aiding the Mennan people. We are all fortunate in their case, that not many have died, but it is a tragedy of the highest order nonetheless that people died, were brutally murdered, only because they saw it in their hearts to help those who were so hurt by this disaster.

Therefore, in light of these situations and others, by the powers vested in me by the Constitution of the United Republics of Dormill and Stiura, I, Cedar Mark Dyson, President of the United Republics of Dormill and Stiura, hereby Call the National Congress of Dormill and Stiura to assemble in One Week for a period of no more than Six Weeks, in the Interest of the United Republics to address and respond to recent these developments. For Freedom, For Unity, For Our Republics.
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Noronica
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Postby Noronica » Wed Dec 26, 2018 5:34 am

Prefectorial Manor, Lancaston, Sessux Isle

Over the past few days, Tytus had watched the manor house come alive with Christmas festivities. The cheer of the season flowed through every door, with men and women prancing around with wine, warm food and gifts for all. Even the troops of the 31st Infantry Brigade were happily grinning and chortling at each other's jokes, despite that many were rather tasteless and unfunny. The copious drinking made even the most sombre of news a laughing matter. Wherever Tytus went, the laughter would follow him, filling him with an odd sense of peace in a time of tension.

Tytus however, was not in the seasonal spirit, and despite his office being seen as a religious one alongside the state, he did not wish to partake in any religious observance. It was far too joyful. He took to instead humming carols by the fire as he wrote letters of great importance to many of his allies across the country. Many had asked, and not too covertly either, whether this was the end of his short-lived rebellion. To them, the poisoned tongue of the state media had spoken the word of the gospel. Joshua truly had won. This was not the case, as otherwise, Tytus would have been packing his bags for the first flight to the capital to answer for his 'crimes'.

Instead, he had taken his time. Being rash at a time of festive cheer was uncalled for, especially due to the simple yet insurmountable fact that his troops would have despised him for it. As any leader in times of conflict, Christmas would be a time of peace and celebration, yet the guns would sound again at the clock's chime for midnight.

Tytus was forced to admit that his plans to allow his allies peace had not worked for one of his key pieces on the chess board that was Noronica. His son. Trystan had worked harder than any of Tytus' aides, completing all of the tasks set for him, even if it took a toll on his mental health or his fatigue. Tytus was proud that his son knew the importance of his father's work, but the boy was doing most of the work and Tytus was beginning to step back. He was no longer the man he had been, as a great war hero he had thrown his youthfulness into any conflict and come out on top. Now, he was but a bitter middle-aged man looking to secure a final grand victory before settling down for the latter part of every human's lifespan.

When the news that Joshua had confirmed Trystan's ascension to the throne, Tytus had almost surrendered there and then. His work was done, as an Alexander would continue the legacy and be a thorn in the side of Joshua. He knew that this would not last, and as the new Monarchy bill came into being, Trystan would have been a puppet. Thus, Tytus' work was not yet done.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts, giving him time to prepare for what was going to be an interesting meeting. The door was thrown carelessly open and two guards near pushed a tall figure into the room. It was the proud figure of Prefect Natalya Gaeharn, Prefect of the very island they were standing on. Prefect of the office they were standing in.

"Your Majesty, it is an honour to be within your presence, but may I be so bold as to inquire why I was so roughly pushed into it?" She asked, her eyes flaring with anger and discomfort.

Tytus continued to write his correspondence, giving only a passing glance to the Prefect. After an uncomfortable moment, he finally spoke, "It is a pleasure for me also, and I must apologise for the handling of your person. You see, my guards are rather overzealous, especially when it comes to those that wish harm upon my person."

All pleasantries were thus thrown out of the window, "I beg your pardon?! I was appointed Prefect so as to serve under the crown, how on earth could I bloody well want to 'harm' you?" Prefect Gaehern near bellowed, her face reddening with rage.

Tytus threw her a look, "Oh I think you very well know. Adh aindh gu Nolon."

Prefect Gaehern took a gasp, her eyes wide with shock. It took mere seconds before she pointed her finger at Tytus with an accusatory glare, "You. It was you who funded that operation. I swear on my ancestors that I will fucking-"

"Silence." Tytus said, his tone cold, "Yes. We funded the riots in Lancaston as an excuse to advance our position to the Sessux Isle. This gives us a greater strategic advantage so as to be able to launch any operation we so desire. Arván was dangerous due to it being much further away." At the Prefect's expression of anger, Tytus snorted, "What? You and your group were so desperate for a foothold that you did not care to dig any further? I grant you that we did create quite the cover, but you are an intelligent woman, you should have tried to at least make the connections." He smiled slightly, "However, I must thank you. You have done this country a great service in that you have given me a position of power and have allowed my side to garner the support of many who watched the operation in the city. For that, you have my gratitude."

Prefect Gaehern made one final defiant act of clenching her fists, and for a moment Tytus was prepared to take her on, but she deflated, falling to her knees in shame. "What is to be done?" A hopeful look to her features, "You thanked me for my service-"

Tytus let out a chuckle before crouching down to her level, "Oh no, I merely wished to congratulate you on your failure. Your rampant and idealistic desire for separatism on this island has strengthened Noronica's grip. Do you think the people will care when they see the arrests? They will be glad to see vermin off the streets-"

"No," Prefect Gaehern breathed, "No- no the people-"

"The people do not care Natasha." Tytus whispered, "Your little revolt is not going to be counted as one of the Sessux Rebellions of times past, but a little flicker of anarchistic angst shown by a few upstarts. I cannot allow for there to be multiple attempts on power in this, as when I take my position as leader my rule must be untested."

Tytus stood and rocked on the balls of his feet, "I am afraid that your story is quite over before it even began. Rather lacklustre I suppose, but in a sense I am glad. You will watch the end of this tale from prison."

"A Sessux prison?" Prefect Gaehern asked, hopeful.

"In a sense, yes." Tytus said, playing with her emotions, "A safe house in the south of the island where you shall be put under armed watch. No phone calls, no connection to the outside world. No-one to influence."

"Now," Tytus said, as if remembering something, "as Overlord it is my solemn duty to relieve you of your position. Prefect Natasha Gaehern, I hereby strip you of all titles granted to you by my position as monarch to serve this nation as Prefect of the State of the Sessux Isle."

Finished, he turned to the door, "Guards!"

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Postby Noronica » Wed Dec 26, 2018 6:07 am

Prefectorial Manor, Lancaston, Sessux Isle

With his business with the ex-Prefect out of the way, Tytus had made his way to his centre of command. The reception hall where dignitaries would arrive had been completely refitted as Tytus' 'war room', and had been the place where he had conducted the operations of his brigade from. The room was bustling with uniformed troops and commanders, all of them having shaken off their festivities from the days before. It was perhaps cruel to yank troops beleaguered by hangovers from their beds, but with justice still to be had, Tytus readied them for the day ahead.

The Brigadier of the 31st Infantry Brigade stood out amongst the sea of people running between jobs. He was calm and took to sipping his herbal tea as he watched the progress being made in the room. When Tytus approached him, the Brigadier set down his cup and saluted him, "Sir! Is there anything you wish to be done?"

Tytus nodded, "Gather the other commanders, I am initiating the operation."

Some of the personnel in the room stopped to gape at him, while the Brigadier raised his eyebrows and spoke with shock in his voice, "I-uh sir, I-I must admit that I did not think-"

"The time has come to cross the Rubicon, as the saying goes. I shall be issuing my final ultimatum today, and if it is not followed, which I highly suspect shall be the case, we must act fast." Tytus spoke solemnly. He knew that this order was a hard one to follow. It had been the same all those years ago in the first war, as this order was one which would authorise combat against one's own countrymen.

"Understood." The Brigadier stated firmly, before twisting on his heels to enact the order.

Tytus called on his aides to begin preparation for televising his response to the Prime Minister's speech. This would be the final chance for peace.
Last edited by Noronica on Wed Dec 26, 2018 6:08 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Noronica » Thu Dec 27, 2018 2:02 pm

State Palace, Nolon City, Noronica

"I had him. I fucking had him under my thumb yet the bastard continues to be a thorn in my side!" Cried Joshua inanely as he walked alongside his Chief of Staff Malcolm Schmitt. The two men were seething, yet Joshua was close to tearing down the entire building with his bare hands.

Malcolm nodded, "Perhaps we were too hasty? Might we have overestimated how much influence we had?" He asked, in an attempt to bring the conversation back into the limits of sensibility.

"Hasty?!" Bellowed Joshua, "How the fuck were we meant to know that the man had thrown out the Prefect and set up the island as his personal fiefdom?!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tytus is now trying to paint himself as some socialist twat by dressing in civvies, yet he has been in the palace too long to even see an inch of actual working life. He was an idealistic aristocrat with strategic sense then, and he is no different now."

Malcolm sighed, holding up his hands in surrender, "Sir, I apologise for getting at you, but we must discuss this calmly. The Overlo- Tytus, is moving us closer to conflict. The chiefs of staff were all begging for you to listen to them and I am inclined to believe them. There is about to be a coup."

Joshua, for all the strength of his figure, crumpled to his knees. He spoke softly, "I know," he gazed downwards, "he knows I will not accept his terms. I cannot, as it would send me to the dogs and I must uphold the legal decision of the Constitutional Court." He looked towards Malcolm, an odd sense of betrayal in his eyes, "Do you know how many assemblymen have stepped down because of him?"

Malcolm nodded solemnly, "Twenty-nine." He held up his hands again to prevent another tirade, "As a self-proclaimed expert in matters of spin, I must say he has managed to enthral you in his speech also." Joshua gave him a questioning look but did not speak, letting Malcolm explain, "You kneel, looking near defeated, but you forget that the man has only twenty-nine out of hundreds that have followed his demands, and most of the forces are loyal to us. You are correct, he is but a clever aristocrat, he does not have the backing to launch against us. If you go down the legal route, many will support you as upholding the law of Noronica."

Joshua stroked his chin thoughtfully, finally calm enough to think properly, "That is correct." He hummed slightly, taking a moment before jumping to his feet with renewed energy, "We do not react. If we say anything we will be forced to enter into conflict. If, however, we act as if it is business as usual, he will not move against us. If we show that the capital is stable, his casus belli is nullified."

Malcolm chuckled, "For all your temper sir, you do recover rather swiftly. Now, Ambassador Van Buggenum of Dormill and Stiura is in the diplomatic hall awaiting your presence. I shall fetch refreshments, but I suggest you get started now."

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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Thu Dec 27, 2018 2:34 pm

8:13 AM, Ready Room, Palace of the President, Courlaroux
"Run me through the schedule one more time Cedar. I don't want Lémieux to drag the Council away from the plan." Keira Aalders began, adjusting her suit in the ready room, where they'll leave in tandem to go to Congress for their respective jobs as the week begins.

"8:15, we leave from the Palace in motorcade to go to the Plaza. We arrive at the Forum at 8:45, I address the NatCon, opening the new session at nine sharp. I already have word that Shepherd has drafted resolutions on Noronica, Menna Shuli, and Vancouvia before he left. Causey should also have something ready in the Council to extend the authorization in Orsandia for six more months, plus a military response to Noronica if necessary. Committee debates will take the next two or three hours, then floor debates on Noronica by 4 or 5. If everything goes smoothly, I'll have that resolution signed just after sunset." Cedar responded quickly, mentally preparing for the fighting he's going to have to do in order to get the things needed to be done quickly. The opposition is likely to fight him at most turns, and he couldn't let his mouth slip and tell everybody in the Isles that the United Republics has its own plans for Noronica.

"Right." Keira sighed out, brushing off her skirt, "Ready?"

"Always." the President responded, signalling to the guard at the door that the two of them were ready.
The doors of the Ready Room were opened to the world, the sun was already high in the sky as it cast a wide shadow from behind the pair. Media crews were already at the steps of the Palace, cameras flickering, newscasters barking into their microphones, all the hubbub of the media that could ever be seen all in one place. Cedar walked down the steps first, taking the lead while Keira trailed a few steps behind him and to his left, keeping in sync with his footsteps. Before them, two dark blue limousines, emblazoned with iconography of the United Republics and of the Office of President, sat in waiting for their passengers. Cedar loaded in first, sitting comfortably in the well-built interior. At his side were copies of the various resolutions that the National Congress would debate on throughout the first day, Kiera entered hers moments later, after which the two cars and police escort began to pull away. As they left the confines of the palace, the rest of the motorcade filed in behind them, creating a mile long cadre of cars, trucks, ambulances, and so on that would be used to protect both the President and Vice President on their journey down towards the river.

The Congressional Plaza was the second largest of its kind in Courlaroux, 5th in the Kapolder River Metro behind the Presidential Palace, the Kapolder Capital, ElektroBedrijf Stadium, and the Bank of Kapolder Stadium. It is bisected by one of the many canals built in both cities over their respective histories. The choice to move the National Congress from its more central location in Courlaroux towards the banks of the Kapolder and this canal in particular was a choice made after reunification, a symbol of the new closeness between the two halves of the nation, signified even more so by the Kapolderian President and the Avillonese Vice President. The motorcade eventually came to a stop at the steps of the Forum and the two again walked up and inside the Forum, seating together alongside Speaker Garret Davidson.

After a few moments of applause, Cedar stood up, and began his address.

Collected and Esteemed Members of this 18th National Congress of the United Republics of Dormill and Stiura, I am glad that you have all come out here on these most important of times. I know for many of you this had harmed your Christmas holiday, having to worry about coming back here to deliberate. But know that your job here will shape the history of our great nation as it is tested by forces from all across the Isles. From Noronica where their government is falling apart, and is becoming increasingly unable to maintain peace in its furthest regions. To the International District where a blockade of crucial trade routes and the posturing of an increasingly belligerent Vancouvia strains international relationships. To Thuzbekistan and Orsandia, where the scars of a year-long Civil War have only just begun to set in. You are all here today because I believe it is in the interest of our nation to address these things in the most official capacity possible. As such, I hope that we can all do what is best for both our people, but for the people of the Isles as well. Thank you so very much.


And with that, he strikes the gavel that would open the Emergency Session of the 18th National Congress of the United Republics of Dormill and Stiura to address the growing international tensions. In the back of his mind, he hoped that this would be the only time he had to do this in the Presidency.
4:30 PM, National Progress Coalition Meeting Room, Forum of Dormill and Stiura
The Dispatch just completed its reporting on the news from Noronica, the Overlord had delivered his ultimatum to his own Government. He had refused to abdicate and stand trial, even went as far as to call for a snap election. The room was quiet except for the news crew on the other side of the screens, all eyes were on the President, who was sitting there debating the situation just before a junior member turned on the news.

"This ... changes things." the President began, slowly, contemplating his next words, "This will precipitate into a coup. At this point it's a matter of who's side we're going to be on." the rest of the room concurred, those that understood the situation knew that either side of this conflict needed Dormill and Stiura to secure legitimacy, Noronnican allies were not yet accounted for; those that didn't entirely understand were in no mood to contest the President, who they at least knew he was not going to back down on this. He had called them in to legitimize his own policy, without his opponents to try something crafty during the election season next year.

Cedar was about to speak up again until his phone vibrated, indicating a text, taking a glance before returning to the debate, it was Van Buggenum again, and it sounded urgent

Van Buggenum: PRES!! IT'S MACINTOSH!!! HE WANTS TO NEGOTIATE ALL OF ARVAN!!


"And I believe I already have in mind the side we should fight for." the President said, putting his phone back in his pocket.
3:15 PM, Diplomatic Hall, State Palace, Nolon City, Noronica
Luther Van Buggenum never had a chance to go home for the holidays, much unlike a good portion of his staff. The affairs in Noronica were too important, Diplomatic Manager De La Fontaine said. He reluctantly accepted, his secretary remained with him, it was as much of a Christmas gift as he could really get at that moment. At least that was until an hour ago when he received the transcript of the Overlord's address that was to be read. Van Buggenum read it over and over again, and he couldn't believe it. The Overlord was tempting a coup with the statement, after the President had confirmed that the Overlord and his functionaries were on their side after the meeting with the Prefect of Arvan. A few moments after getting the address, he got a letter from the State Palace to meet with the Prime Minister to discuss important matters. Could he be wanting to court us to his side? he wondered as Joshua walked out of his office, cheeks still flushed from his earlier rage.

"Mr. Prime Minister. It is a pleasure to meet with you on what must be extremely short notice. Is there anything I or the United Republics can help you with?" the Ambassador said cheerfully, extending his hand to shake that of the PM.
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Noronica
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Postby Noronica » Thu Dec 27, 2018 3:05 pm

For all his anger issues, Joshua was astoundingly good at recovery. He had learned during his time serving under the Bureau of Internal Security to do that, especially during interrogation. At that time he could turn his anger on and off like a tap, raining fire down before calmly soothing the prisoner, it made life psychological hell for them. However, as an older man, it was becoming harder to cut the faucet, especially under the current circumstances where every step was over egg-shells.

Taking on a confident gait, he strode over to the ambassador and captured his hand in a firm handshake, "Your Excellency, it is truly a testament to your skill to arrive at such short notice. Now, I must force you to sit, you look tired beyond belief!" He chuckled, gesturing towards one of the comfortable seats. Taking his own seat, he revelled in the fact that they were warm compared to the rest of the dreary damp coldness one felt on the lower levels of the castle. Being a medieval clan castle, the State 'Palace' was still a majestic building, yet atrocious in winter. The upper levels were modernised and warm, yet the ground floor was maintained in its original style to impress visitors.

"Now," Joshua said, clasping his hands together, "Coffees and teas shall arrive in a moment so I must urge us onto business while we wait. As you might imagine, the situation in Noronica is rather tense, and to ensure stability and peace, I must secure borders." He was unaware that the ambassador had heard this all before, "Dormill and Stiura has always been so similar in culture and ideals with Noronica, yet our relations are regrettably tarnished by something that all children in our nations have written history essays on, Arván."

He smiled slightly, "What would you say if I offered a chance for this situation to end? A chance for a true golden age of relations between our two nations?" He leaned forward, ensuring that every word was spoken in perfect Dutch to get across his message, "What if I offered it in its entirety?"

He stood suddenly, turning to face the windows which displayed snow softly falling on the gardens, "If I am entirely honest, the recent war was not one I was in favour of. I knew Arván was tenuous, and I knew it would anger your nation," he spoke with false sincerity, "and rightly so! Noronica broke a treaty, and the last Prime Minister, under the guidance of the Overlord I do not mind telling you, entered into the war. I wish to rectify this mistake. Only..." His eyes gleamed in the light of the window, "if this act of kindness I am prepared to give was... reciprocated in some manner. Perhaps- oh I could not possibly think. If your President would be willing to reciprocate, I would enter into negotiations as soon as the domestic situation is fully ironed out." He turned to see that the door was opening, "Ah," he swapped to English, "Refreshments are here."

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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Thu Dec 27, 2018 3:56 pm

Van Buggenum sat and listened, and was taken away by both Joshua's skills in Dutch and the offer, All of Arván?! That's an insane offer. he thought, sipping on his coffee slowly, considering his next words carefully. "And pray tell, Your Excellency. What kind of reciprocation do you want from the President, or the Congress? The offer you present me is of a quality I haven't ever seen in the business world, let alone the political one. You would sacrifice the entire Prefect of Arván to the United Republics for ...?" he paused, Of course! An alliance is what he wants, same as the Overlord. Isn't that the first thing on the docket in Courlaroux? he again thought.

Siding with the Government would go well at home, he further thought. Most of the media has portrayed that the Overlord was overstepping his bounds. That the Noronnican Constitution, unlike the Dormill-Stiuraian, did not grant the executive the power to dissolve the legislature. He knew that most of the senior leadership in the National Congress were strict Constitutionalists, they might've been open to the many amendments that have been passed but each one was written with clear intent, and the courts stuck pretty closely to those intents. The optics would be good for the United Republics to stand up for the Constitution of Noronica like it would for its own. Having all of Arván in the process would be icing on the cake, a guaranteed promotion to Minister.

"You want the United Republics' alliance, do you? Assurance that when the Overlord inevitably decides that force of arms are worth more than his words, we will march our armies at the aid of your government?"

He pondered the situation further, interrupting the Prime Minister before he could answer the earlier question "This kind of an offer wouldn't be taken lightly, Mr. Prime Minister. I will relay this to the President as soon as I can." He switched back to English as well, to finalize his own terms, "What I can tell you from now though is that I will work to make sure this - arrangement - of ours, is given the proper weight and respect."
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Noronica
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Noronica » Thu Dec 27, 2018 4:24 pm

Joshua enjoyed watching the cogs of the ambassador's mind whir. When the man spoke, the ends of Joshua's lips lifted into a grin, now you have it, he thought. However, the openness of the discussion concerned him, as while he knew the deliberate pauses and references drew conclusions that were obvious, the ambassador sounded as if this business would be painted onto a banner and flown around the country.

He leaned forward, still grinning as the ambassador unravelled the meanings of the offer, "I do not wish to er..." he had to think about the translation of the word, "presume that events in the nation would end in the manner that you described. However, when one is the leader of a nation, they must think several miles forward so as to ensure that one can never be surprised. In essence, yes, a partnership would be beneficial for two nations that have for too long been at odds."

He spoke softly, changing to English to match the ambassador, "As you say, your Excellency, this discussion will be treated with weight and respect in your country, but I must request, as one friend to another, that this business is kept under wraps. Despite it being a late one, this Christmas gift to both our nations should remain a surprise to our people. If the President accepts to support our endeavours, then I am sure he will have to announce it, but Arván... Arván could perhaps be a rather precarious topic, especially as some might be too hasty to finalise the agreement there. So by all means, I would be happy to receive any public show of support, but our agreement on Arván would be good to keep quiet." He needed to keep the matter quiet. If he gave the peninsula away now, he would be slaughtered, but when he had won, the people would see his logic.

He chuckled, "I must say, however, that I agree with your first point. This is an odd situation I have put you in, but you must understand. During great struggles, humans do not tend to deliberate, and I can assure you sir, you are witnessing a most important matter in our two nations, and perhaps the Isles' history. Time shall not wait for us."

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Dormill and Stiura
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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Thu Dec 27, 2018 4:41 pm

"I'll be sure to talk of Arván only in confidence. But as for supporting the Government over the Overlord, I will do what I can both here and at home to give you the support you desire." Van Buggenum said flatly, drinking more of his coffee and taking in what the Prime Minister had said.

"Is there anything else you would wish to ask of me? While I am still here."
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Noronica
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Founded: Dec 11, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Noronica » Sun Dec 30, 2018 10:26 am

Joshua shook his head, "Oh no, I feel as if a large weight has been lifted from my shoulders. As I said earlier, it is unlikely that anything drastic should take place." As the ambassador nodded in agreement and stood to leave, Joshua smiled, peace and prosperity were assured. His plans were cast iron.

Federal Council, Federal Assembly, Nolon City

The noise of the chamber was a lot higher than usual, something which did not surprise one veteran councillor, Alisdair Flanders, as he could almost feel the vibrations of division through the floor of the chamber. He had seen this type of division once, during the reign of the Republican government, where despite censorship and bribery, the hallowed halls of Noronnican politics were still very much alive. There had been two distinct sides, as there was now.

Alisdair's attention was stripped from his reverie when the floor was given to a scrappy young councillor, by the name of James McBarough. Several pairs of eyes were rolled, but oddly, Alisdair observed several councillors were nodding and urging the boy on. Intrigued, yet slightly concerned, Alisdair watched the councillor stand. McBarough glared around the chamber, his eyes filled with a malicious gleam. Alisdair recognised that gleam in many of those in the United Party, blind support and little in the way of logic. It was fervent extremist patriotism that kept the likes of McBarough going.

"Honourable colleagues, we are affronted by a crisis in our nation." The chamber grew silent, "The political system is in shatters, and that is not due to the so-called 'usual suspects', but instead a silent coup that has taken place." Groans resounded throughout the room then, and many wondered what the boy would bring up in his speech. Alisdair however, was concerned, as the boy was a member of the Prime Minister's party, why would he have something derisive to say about the current state of affairs? Unless...

"To allow for our democracy to thrive, we must throw off the shackles presented by those that wish to cause hindrance to our national progress. This has not been a group, nor has it been another nation, but one man. That man has refused to listen to the orders of this institution, the Constitutional Court, and our Prime Minister. This blatant disregard for Noronnican tradition should not be rewarded with the office of Overlord. I move to declare Tytus Alexander a traitor!" Declared McBarough, who grew red-faced from his aggressive speech. At once, a horrible deafening roar of support reverberated around the room, and multiple councillors from many parties stood to the man's support.

The boy continued, the volume of his zealous preaching reaching the very far corners of the chamber, "By doing so, we as a united parliament do render his position nullified and allow for an arrest to be made." He turned to look at the speaker of the house for affirmation.

The speaker, who had so far remained shocked into silence, jolted suddenly, "I... believe that this may be done. The Federal Council has the legislative power to declare a citizen of any office traitor, seeing as the power was granted to it during the-" The sentence did not have to be finished, many in the room knew exactly what came after. No one wished to reference the last civil war within the chamber. The speaker continued, hesitantly, "This was a rather late submission to the Assembly's timetable, yet I am willing to make an exception in the event that it garners enough support from the hous-" the room was aloud with gleeful cries of support. After several attempts to calm the room, the speaker spoke once more, "then it must come to a vote. The motion shall be repeated, and those that support it must declare so orally." The speaker spoke slowly and deliberately, yet the room was impatient.

As soon as the speaker was done, a vast percentage of the chamber declared their support immediately. Alisdair did not support the motion, yet it seemed his opinion mattered not.

Before the clerks could declare the obvious, the doors of the chamber were thrown open again, an act that had caused this strife in the first place. Prime Minister Joshua McIntosh strode quickly through the aisle, declaring with a panicked shout, "Veto the motion!" He began to run, repeating his statement continuously. The guards of the chamber chased after him, attempting to remove him from the room.

The speaker was most definitely angered by this, "How dare you Prime Minister, you should know that you cannot-"

Joshua interrupted him, "Mr. Speaker, I can only apologise for my actions but you must count my veto! The motion cannot pass!" His breathing was ragged, yet he struggled fiercely with the guards.

The speaker shook his head solemnly, "The ayes have it."

Prefectorial Manor, Lancaston, Sessux Isle

Tytus could only smile as the declaration was made, televised by the Federal Assembly. The motion was such a botched affair, yet he understood that at times such as these, such rash actions were bound to occur. Besides, he would not wait until the situation was handled in proper parliamentary procedure, this move was entirely legal and it would give him the legitimacy he had been so desperately awaiting. He had considered a preemptive strike, yet that would have earned him the hatred of the Noronnican people. Now that permission had been handed to him on a silver platter, he could do what he deemed necessary.

The footage would likely be deleted, yet Tytus had asked his aides to record and store copies of the footage on a drive so as to ensure everyone remembered what had been said. This was a momentous event, as while he was being legally declared a criminal, his supporters would rally to him to declare the motion to be the act of a corrupt and dying institution filled with the puppets of one Joshua McIntosh. Propaganda would be rampant, but it was necessary to save his own image and mould it into that of a martyr. He was not yet dead of course, but he was being ostracised and thrown aside.

The office telephone's ringtone blared out into the room, making Tytus jump slightly. He walked confidently over to it, pulling it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Are we cleared for our operation sir?" Came the voice from the other end.

Tytus grinned, "The die is cast. Go ahead."

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Dormill and Stiura
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Postby Dormill and Stiura » Sun Dec 30, 2018 8:39 pm

Office of the President, Presidential Palace, Courlaroux
The news crews had shifted out as quickly as they came in, the whole affair of signing the joint resolution by the National Congress to side with MacIntosh ended, but the tension of the Winter of Discontent were still present in the room. Dyson sat alone for a change, while Keira was still in the Plaza handling other affairs, and most of his cabinet away doing their duties or attending hearings in the chambers.

It was quiet in the Office of the President for a change, almost disturbingly so. Quiet enough that Cedar could hear the talking outside before the phone went off at his desk.

"Hello?"

"Mr. President, it's Hector."

"Mr. Causey, good to hear you again. Is there something you need?"

"Just need to verify which forces we should be sending sir, don't want to mix things up."

"Of course, that's a good idea." Cedar chuckled lightly before pulling up the list of where his forces are at the moment, "I want the First and Second Brigades, and the MRF ready to be deployed. And make sure our naval forces are ready to sail out at a day's notice."

"Absolutely sir, I will have them ready by the end of the week."

"Thank you, Mr. Causey. Good luck out there."

"You too, Mr. President."

Cedar leaned back in his chair, at the very least content that things were going his way, but still disturbed by the silence. He understood, after reflecting on 2015 and the Noronnican invasion of Arvan, that this would not be an easy conflict to fight. More so than that, he understood too well the silence before the storm, same feeling he is having now that he had a year ago when he moved to intervene in Orsandia. Let's hope that next year is just a little more peaceful he thought, standing up and walking away from the desk.
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Noronica
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Founded: Dec 11, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Noronica » Wed Jan 02, 2019 11:29 am

NAS Sulbry, Prefectorial State of Pinross, Noronica

"Och just gimme a fuckin' break Reg, I'm no happy about this." Squadron Leader Carl Tevon was not in the best of moods. It was a funny old tradition, starting during the Imperial War, the boys would each send each other Christmas presents but one of the group was given an old sweater. It was akin to secret Santa but they had some posh name for it back in the day. This year it happened to be Carl, and he was forced to wear the sweater during breaks for two weeks after Christmas. Itching himself mad, he tried to ignore his subordinates laying into him.

"Oi boss, it's weird how I don't accidentally blow something up when you give me a command, 'cause every time you speak it's always, 'Aye ahm goin' oot tay the lef' can ye folo me boys?'" Shouted Reginald from the corner of the room. Carl was from Harburgh, and everyone there had an accent. It was so famous that when most people thought of average western Noronnican they thought of the Harburgh accent, with tourists often pretending to chum up with the locals saying 'och aye the noo how are we tayday?' The unlucky ones on the streets of Harburgh got a trip to A&E.

"Shut up Reg, you're a bloody Nolonder! You're either a posh twat or a taxi driver, and neither speaks well." Carl said, getting a few shouts of support from the others. Sadly, he did not come across as threatening as he had wanted, wearing a big red sweater depicting a happy reindeer on it.

Standing up, Carl let out a sigh. He was still a bit disorientated from the last few nights, making him wonder why he had joined the Air Force instead of another branch like his Dad. The Air Force was notorious for drinking, and the Department of Defence was actually forced to rent out local pubs around air bases to cope with the influx of pilots and engineers all coming to get pissed. He turned and spoke quickly, "I'm goin' for a piss boys, I'll see you later."

Walking to the toilets, he was too immersed in his own thoughts to realise someone was coming straight for him. When the person coughed, Carl almost jumped out of his skin, "Jesus Christ!"

"Sorry sir, I was told to come and get you." Said one of the base staff, a scrawny man dressed smartly in uniform. Carl nodded and followed along, quickly shrugging off his sweater to appear somewhat presentable in front of the other officers.

The two entered a small room packed full of the base's officers, at the centre stood Wing Commander Thomas Claire, a kindly older officer whose appearance was completely different from the other officers who were all stiff as boards. He turned to look at Carl and smiled, raising a glass of champagne in his direction, "There you are Tevon, we were wondering where you had gotten to." He signalled to an officer by the drinks table, "Give Tevon a glass."

Carl thanked the other officer then spoke to Thomas, "Thank you sir, may I ask what we are toasting?"

"The New Year of course! Belated sadly, but it seems that many of the officers were... how shall I put this, 'out of it' yesterday?" Thomas gave a pointed look to many of the officers in the room, getting sheepish looks in return. He raised his glass and smiled, "This base is known by many as Noronica's first line of defence. With cutting edge equipment and a connection to the region at large, we respond at a moment's notice to foreign threats, but it would not be possible without the human aspect. I think we should all share a common pride in our work here, and to that I call for a toast. To a new year of defence!"

Carl and the other officers returned the toast and brought their glasses to their lips, taking a small swig of champagne before chatting to the officers next to them. Carl found himself rather lonely, but as it turned out, he would not need conversation.

There was a small quake in the room and the soft sound of a 'boom'. Everyone turned to look at each other with differing expressions of concern. Another went off, this time much louder and clearer. Panic started to set in. Boom. Boom.

There was an immense explosion near the room and the floor shook intensely, causing some officers to fall down. Taking the initiative, Carl ran to the emergency exit and opened it.

Devastation. Before him should have been a view of the base, instead Carl was greeted with the sight of chaos as buildings had been torn to shreds by bombs. One of the fighter jets had been torn apart and Carl thought he could see an arm sticking out from underneath the wreckage. He could hear the screams and shouts of people on base, yet all Carl could do was look up.

Thomas had been right, the base was exemplary with dealing with outside threats. Not domestic ones. The bombers had been Noronnican.

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Noronica
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Founded: Dec 11, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Noronica » Fri Jan 04, 2019 6:53 am

Overlord's Palace, Nolon City, Noronica

Trystan clenched both his fists against the arms of his chair, his eyes glaring into the fire before him. He watched as the flames flickered and whispered across the fireplace, slowly creeping around a log before engulfing it. Relaxing his fists, he breathed out sharply through his nose, frustrated that he could not shake off his feeling of anger. He did not wish for this next conversation to occur, yet he knew that if he ignored his anger then he would most likely take it out on something he would late regret. He was not typically physically aggressive, yet the situation presented to him boiled his blood. Noronnican blood had been spilt unnecessarily, and he would not have his own countrymen bleed for reasons that were unclear. He knew logic, he was not above doing anything to reach his goals, but he was not wasteful.

The Gwynon Times article had been mixed. It was not entirely in support of the Overlord, and that was due to Trystan. Laura had been in contact several times, and both were in agreement that while the Overlord's supporters needed to hear about good progress they should not be lied to if there were not at least any facts to substantiate a lie. Propaganda was not all about faking good news, it needed to tell truths in a manner which would manipulate emotions towards their side. People would remember this event with sour feelings, but if it could be substantiated with good progress later on, it would become a small minor error.

Carefully placing his hand on his phone, he paused for a moment. He took a deep breath and questioned what he was about to do. A cynical part of his mind told him that having this conversation would give him plausible deniability should his father's cause turn sour, another part was disgusted at that line of thinking, reminding him that he was doing this for the wasting of his people's lives.

He entered his phone and quickly found what he was looking for. Tapping a favourited number, he put the phone to his ear and waited. Never before had he been so impatient towards a phone ringing out.

"Son, what can I do for you?" Came the voice. It oozed confidence and Trystan felt sickened by it.

"Throughout history, great historical figures have often resorted to killing. Whether it be political opponents or troublesome revolts, it is the nature of things in history. However, when has a revered figure senselessly slaughtered lives for petty reasonings and attempted to call it 'necessary'?!" Trystan blared, his voice now echoing around the room, "Father, have you no shame at murdering our own people? We should not have been the ones to act first! We should have let the bastard send troops to us, but instead we bomb pilots enjoying their New Year's rest?!"

"Careful," was the cold reply, "do not assume you know my mind nor my actions."

Trystan shook his head exasperatedly, "I do know them well, yet that is from a general's perspective. If you continue in this manner then you will commit a political suicide. Military matters abroad tend to be much less damaging than actions caused during domestic civil strife."

Tytus replied in an annoyed tone, "I am not pig-headed Trystan, I know my way around the politics of my own nation."

"Do you?" Trystan asked incredulously, "Yes, you helped formulate a new era of Noronnican politics, but admit it, you have not been involved in politics for decades and you are surrounded by military advisors, I merely ask as your son that you take more care in your public view and stop making political enemies." He said, his voice strained.

There was a sigh one the other end, "Trystan, have faith in my actions. I understand your concern but the support we have gotten has been tremendous. You shall remain in the palace, I need you to continue to administer the city as its mayor and to curry favour with Joshua. He still believes you will be his puppet, so I still have one major chess piece in the game. I assure you we shall be successful in this Trystan."

Trystan cut the call and pinched the bridge of his nose. Both leaders of the factions in Noronica were older men who were out of touch with the reality of Noronica. Trystan did not know what sort of victory his father would enjoy if he won, he knew such a victory for either side would not be total nor happy.
Last edited by Noronica on Fri Jan 04, 2019 6:53 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Dormill and Stiura
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Founded: Sep 19, 2015
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Dormill and Stiura » Fri Jan 04, 2019 10:08 am

Joint Base Sud Alban, South Alban, Kapolder, United Republics
03 January, 0600
1st Regiment, 1st Brigade, United Republics Army

Sargent Albert Pocock was initially unhappy about being deployed to South Alban. He felt it was one of Kapolder's most petty cities, which was saying something from the Stiuraian all the way from Feerwerd. However, he always enjoyed fighting, as a kid he would almost always find himself in a fight with somebody after school; this would be an attribute that would prompt him to join the United Republics Army, where he was nearly kicked out for fighting with his Drill Instructor. Eventually, he would add nuance to his aggression, and became an effective leader of 8th Squad, 3rd Battalion. At 33, he had a fair amount of experience for a Sargent. Recently, he had spent time with the 1st Regiment near the border with Orsandia, aiding refugees trying to sail up the Blue River.

Now came the order he was hoping for, orders to enter Arvan and secure it against the Overlord and his loyalist forces. He personally saw it as revenge for the first war of the White Eagle Cape, but it was a particular taboo within the army to talk about operations in Arvan as a second invasion. Their first stop would be Alban, as it would be the anchor for Dormill-Stiuraian operations in the rest of the peninsula. Though they had to go around the rest of the cape to do it, it would take only a few hours to reach the city. By that time, the two regiments will split east and west, securing the area for the second brigade to secure the remainder. Nobody really knew where the loyalties of Arvan lay, but if the Orverlord's recent stay here would suggest anything, they had quite a few Noronnicans to fight through in order to secure the Peninsula.

Sargent Pocock loaded into the APC that would carry him and his squad to the fight in Noronica.
Port of Amberieux Helipad, Amberieux, Avillon, United Republics
03 January, 0610
1st Platoon, Special Forces Regiment, United Republics Army

The sun had barely risen over the quiet city of Amberieux when three MTH2 Matuastos, clad in black, lifted off from the helipads just off the docks of the city. Inside, some of the most elite forces the United Republics had to offer were to embark on a mission of great magnitude to the Dormill-Stiuraian operation in Arvan. It was understood within the intelligence community that Lord Bartholomew Montague, Prefect of Arván, was an ally of Dormill and Stiura, and a low-level player in the conflict between the Government and the Overlord. He had extended a similar offer of negotiating a partition of Arván with the President, under his own pretenses, so the Bureau says; and would be a valuable asset to have to keep the government appeased. Losing Arván would obviously harm the position of the Government, and put Dormill and Stiura, now its ally, in the firing line for an invasion. The mission of this platoon was to insert into St. Recont and secure the Prefect, in the hope that having him would strengthen the position of the United Republics Army in the peninsula as they will likely fight against Noronnican forces there to defend it.

It would be just over an hour for them to reach St. Recont airspace, where the men inside hoped the Air Force would distract local air defenses so they could land safely.
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