NATION

PASSWORD

Pacifying the Provinces [MT-Cornellia-TG for entry-Mature]

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

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Thu Jul 11, 2019 10:08 am

Leisure District, New Adeleux
Hannibal's Theater, Bar


“Good show, Jack, how’s your head, man?” The aging General Anthony Morrison asked with a chuckle. “And where did you end up?”

“Pounding, sir, and we eventually decided on Nasty Naig’s - good variety, you see, sir.” Jack replied with a boyish grin and no hint of embarrassment, he knew that General Morrison was an old soldier and had seen nearly everything in his time. “The man’s name is Baruch and I swear he has the appetite of a tiger and the stamina of an ox.”

“Sounds about right, these Edomites are all debauched and a sellsword Edomite likely double-so.” Morrison nodded, he drank claret, Jack was nursing a weak gin and tonic and had an ice pack hidden under his service cap. “Did he tell you why he was here?”

“He belonged to an Edomite oil company… Can’t remember why he was here, planned to travel into the interior.”

“Hah! At least we won’t have to deal with him for much longer then!” General Morrison laughed. “I’ll pass the word up the chain, get our boys to keep an eye on him.”

“Excellent, sir.” Jack had danced around the subject so far but decided he had to face it, “And my commission, sir?”
“Oh… Yes.” Morrison replied, having forgotten his promise completely. “It’s on my desk, I just need to have it signed and find you a unit then it’ll be in your hands. Where are you lodged?”

“The Royal Acheron, Room 1414.”

“Oh, how illustrious.” Morrison raised an eyebrow, “Very well, I’ll send it round when things are sorted out. How long is your leave?”

“Two weeks to go.”

“Fine, good day to you, Jack.” Morrison bade him farewell, finished his claret and left the bar.

“Thank you, sir.” Jack replied, as the old officer turned his back. With pride and a little shame Jack reflected on his good deed and found that, despite his like for Baruch, the man was not trustworthy and he had probably given away more than he should have done the preceding evening. At least this way, the New Columbians might prevent him from getting into too much trouble…


Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


Sir Alec Morgannon had never liked Edomites… He disliked their rudeness, their arrogance and the way they flaunted their Edenist ways as if anyone cared. He particularly despised their nudist practices, just another case of using religion as an excuse for perversion. Now an Edomite, a man named Baruch, had been hoisted upon Alec and his plans for an early lunch were scuppered. As the Principal Private Secretary to the Minister of Energy and Resources, Morgannon was the obvious choice to meet with the oil representative, especially as that brown-skinned slut of a minister was away on a visit. God… How Morgannon missed his native Aberynys. He feigned a smile and paged his secretary to send the Edomite in. The door opened and Baruch was shown into the room, Sir Alec stood and shook his hand, “Mister Baruch, a pleasure. I am Sir Alec Morgannon, Principal Private Secretary to Miss Renia, the Minister of Energy and Resources. What brings you to me today?” He asked, sitting back down.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
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Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Thu Jul 11, 2019 1:21 pm

Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


Earlier, Baruch had spoken on the phone with Sebastian, and had said, “I would like to talk to you, old friend, and get caught up. Within a couple of days I was thinking of visiting you, and getting to see your new digs. A bit of business, a bit of pleasure.”

Having made this call, he then began the process of arrangements for travel through the Edomite foreign ministry, as NPC had arrangements to expedite such processes for their employees. It would be a short business visa. There were many reasons NPC sent business travelers abroad, the most common being sales.

The door opened and Baruch was shown into the room, Sir Alec stood and shook his hand, “Mister Baruch, a pleasure. I am Sir Alec Morgannon, Principal Private Secretary to Miss Renia, the Minister of Energy and Resources. What brings you to me today?” He asked, sitting back down.

“Hello Sir Alec,” said Baruch, cognizant of the odd manner of address towards persons with such honorifics in the Vionnese custom, bowing, Edomite fashion.

“First,” he said, finding a seat, “Let me thank you for taking the time to see me. I realize you must be a very busy man working for such an important minister. Such a lovely city, New Adeleux. Such a nice rhythm to the word.”

“First, let me properly present myself as you have done. I am Cyricl Baruch, of course, late a major in the 18th Mounted Light Infantry Regiment, and currently working on a commission for the National Petroleum Corporation.

“The company has some interest in these rumours that there are oil deposits on your frontier’s interior. They have not heard that your government has shown any interest thus far in developing it, but of course that is merely what is heard, and so Mr. Ahitophel thought it would be a good idea to have someone find out directly.

“We had also heard that there are security issues in the area in question. So that may be causing some setbacks. In any case, if your government is aware of successful prospecting or surveys, or if there are yet successful ones to be done, and if you are interested in petroleum development, the NPC is a powerful company, the largest and most powerful in the region, and would be interested in discussing terms for prospecting, if is required, extraction, refinement, and transport. It could be a significant boost to your country’s economy and could also bring our two countries toward closer economic relations in general.”
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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The Shrailleeni Empire
Minister
 
Posts: 2672
Founded: Oct 06, 2011
Mother Knows Best State

Postby The Shrailleeni Empire » Fri Jul 12, 2019 10:48 pm

Imperial Palace, Imperial City
The Enlightened Matriarchy of the Shrailleeni Empire


The sky was growing dark over the heart of Home Island, the heat of the dry season lingering heavily over the jungle valleys but now softened somewhat by the retreat of the sun. Velden Cressella took no notice of this however, confined as he was to a small office in the Matriarchy of Foreign Affairs. He had a well-carved desk and some cabinets, but there were no openings to the outside in the otherwise featureless room. A door with a tinted glass window boasted the words "Desk Officer for New Columbia" in Railtic script.

It was a joke of a position, and Velden knew it. A job made up so that the throne could ensure that all of its affairs were in the proper order. He was about as low on the ladder of honor-rank as you could get in the MFA, no one seemed to be sure if his direct superior was the Desk Officer for Vionna-Frankenlisch, or the officer for Ayacan Affairs. And for the most part no one cared either. Occasionally he would assemble summaries for submission, but most of the time his exact duties were basically to exist. No one asked anything of him, not even the Shrailleeni consulate in New Adeleux.

But Velden wasn't content to just waste his prime years at a dead-end position. Men didn't succeed in Shrailleen unless they were the most driven, the most determined, and he knew it. He had poured everything into just getting a foot in the door here, only to be relegated to the grunt work. He took this in stride, knowing that he simply needed to build connections, keep his nose clean, and wait for his moment.

Of course he never imagined that his moment would actually come from New Columbia. He had been working for a long time at unseating the officer for San Carlo, subtly inserting information on the country into reports, demonstrating his insights. He imagined that he had begun to be noticed as well, when some information began to come to him that exceeded his expectations, only in the last couple of days.

First is was a newspaper headline from New Columbia, "Northern Deserty Offensive Moves on Cha’aek’rol." That had piqued his interest of course. It seemed that the New Columbians were having difficulties with the native Ayacan population, but they were managing to keep it relatively quiet. Cautiously optimistic, he had spent the night digging up old reports on the area. It turned out that the Ancient Temple had sent priestesses to the country in the 1960s to ascertain if any of the people exhibited signs of "original matriarchy." They had concluded that the indigenous people of the south-eastern mountains and desert displayed some matrifocal tendencies, but were ultimately too corrupted to merit closer inspection. The Intaki of Ashab had proven a much more interesting subject, and so they had moved on.

He had read up on what little was known of the tribes of the region. Many were loyal to the colonizers, such as the Jaktow tribe. Others had signed a sort of peace accord, known as the Treaty of Cha'aek'rol. It was all a bit piecemeal, much to his dismay, and raised more questions than it answered. Why were they fighting now? Why hadn't New Columbia simply crushed the tribes? More importantly, how could he convince his government that this merited Shrailleen's attention?

Then the second piece of information had come to him, this very day. There was a mobilization occurring in Ayaca, based in San Carlo. Something about fear of a foreign incursion. According to his source in the embassy there, there were rumors that a foreign plane had been intercepted in their airspace, but he didn't know more than that.

This had gotten him thinking, however. Something about all of this didn't add up. He sensed opportunity, and he was quick to move on it.

The telephone on his desk rang. He tore his eyes away from his computer screen, dark bags highlighted by the white light. He checked the number indicated, and then picked up up breathlessly.

"Sellena, hello. Thank you for getting back to me."

"Hello Velden. Keeping a late night I see," the female voice on the other end said.

"Yes, well, you know this situation in New Columbia is keeping me busy."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then a sigh.

"Velden, I can't tell you much."

He practically leaned into the phone, sensing weakness. Sellena was his contact in SISI, someone as annoyed with her position as he was with his.

"But there is something going on, something that Strategic Intelligence knows about?"

"Look, here is what I'm authorized to tell you. We know that New Columbia is fighting the natives in the north. They're not boasting about it but everyone in New Adeleux knows. And it isn't going well for them. We suspect supply and logistics issues."

"What is it about? Do they need fuel? Is there oil up there? It's the oil isn't it."

"Velden, I really can't tell you any more than that."

"And what about this business in San Carlo?"

"...I'm not going to ask how you know about that."

"Okay, just tell me...is this something? Could this be something?"

There was a uncomfortable pause.

"Maybe? I...don't think we should talk about this. Walk the Path, and find Peace Velden."

"You as well Sellena, thank you."

He stewed on this after the line went dead, feeling a sense of excitement building. He knew that she couldn't say much over the phone, it was undoubtable bugged. But she had agreed in code to meet with him tomorrow. He was sure that he had something here, something that would catch the ear of the Foreign Minister. Something that other people were bound to be looking at just as closely. But he needed to move first, he needed to move fast.

He glanced at the clock. Dare he wait until tomorrow, until he had more facts? Or did he move now, and present his suspicions as truth? His fingers tapped nervously on the desk. Well, it surely couldn't hurt to write a draft, could it?

The fingers began to tap on the keys. High above, in the sky over the still-lit streets of the capital, the full moon rose over the eastern mountains.
أدرس اللغة العربية وهي لغة جميلة
Mother of One, Mother of All
Ask Me Anything IC
Come to the Mother's Embrace
New Edom wrote:Elizabeth Salt remarked, "It's amazing, isn't it, you rarely see modern troops that wear their 19th century uniforms and gear so well--they must drill all the time. Is this a guards outfit?"

Sif said to her, "This is a modern Shrailleeni Empire military parade. Like as in this is what they wear, this is what they use. This is it."

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Sat Jul 13, 2019 7:49 pm

Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


“First,” he said, finding a seat, “Let me thank you for taking the time to see me. I realize you must be a very busy man working for such an important minister. Such a lovely city, New Adeleux. Such a nice rhythm to the word.”

"Indeed." Sir Alec replied, putting on an appreciative smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying the delights of the capital, by far the most comfortable settlement in New Columbia. You have come at an excellent time of year, what a wonderful climate."

“First, let me properly present myself as you have done. I am Cyril Baruch, of course, late a major in the 18th Mounted Light Infantry Regiment, and currently working on a commission for the National Petroleum Corporation.

Alec nodded with a thin grin. He did not speak but made a note of Baruch's former rank and unit, he further noted, with distaste, that the man was clearly a mercenary.

“The company has some interest in these rumours that there are oil deposits on your frontier’s interior. They have not heard that your government has shown any interest thus far in developing it, but of course that is merely what is heard, and so Mr. Ahitophel thought it would be a good idea to have someone find out directly.

“We had also heard that there are security issues in the area in question. So that may be causing some setbacks. In any case, if your government is aware of successful prospecting or surveys, or if there are yet successful ones to be done, and if you are interested in petroleum development, the NPC is a powerful company, the largest and most powerful in the region, and would be interested in discussing terms for prospecting, if is required, extraction, refinement, and transport. It could be a significant boost to your country’s economy and could also bring our two countries toward closer economic relations in general.”


"I see..." Morgannon was taken rather aback. Of course, all this wasn't exactly classified and he expected Baruch to have done some digging but Sir Alec was somewhat surprised by the directness of the man's address. He did not attempt to hide his motives, or rather the aims of his masters. Morgannon allowed this Major Baruch a token piece of grudging respect for that fact. "I'm afraid, as a mere functionary, it is not my place to discuss government policy. Therefore I could not say whether or not there are any plans to cultivate the frontier oil deposits. I can, as an avid geographer, confirm that there are ample amounts of said deposits. Although I would have to consult the department archives for specifics, I am most certain that surveys were conducted in the wake of the Treaty of Cha'aek'rol when relations between the settlers and the native tribes were thawing and they came out quite favourably for the Imperial oil companies. A few wells were dug, billions of Lucans of investment promised but little was done."

This was, admittedly, a subject of passion for Sir Alec Morgannon, he had spent quite a few of his personal time researching the farce. And it was, indeed, a farce and a cock-up of colossal proportions. The small field of wells, operated by the Braithwaite Oil Prospection and Cultivation Company (which went bankrupt a mere eleven months after), had been subject to no small number of blunders. For a start, they were built in a somewhat northerly area of the oil-rich region, closer to the San Carloan border than the southern coast, when areas closer to civilisation were available, this choice was simply foolhardy. Back home in Vionna, former oil prospectors, who had previously grown fat off of the short-lived Helmfirth oil fields, now went hungry but instead of flying in these veritable experts, BOPCC had decided that the cheaper costs associated with employing local native labour would be worth it. They also decided that it would be killing two birds with one stone to rely on tribal infrastructure (consisting of dirt roads and a cluster of small settlements in the area) rather than constructing their own. This colossal stupidity, motivated by cutting costs and, admittedly, inexperienced management, meant that the development had not even lasted two months before the native workers were found to be completely unsuited, the infrastructure entirely insufficient and the long distance to a civilised settlement meant that the meagre results of the godforsaken venture took a week to get to the coast. Sir Alec knew damn well that, in addition to the mediocre domestic supplies held by Vionna-Frankenlisch, cultivation of the rich oil deposits of New Columbia would have made the motherland almost self-sufficient in oil products. The damnable bastards had blown their chance and now they were paying for it. When Alec considered the tale, he had to conceal a smug feeling that the whole disaster was karma, the result of the greed and hubris of BOPCC's young and untested management, pockets lined with bank loans and daddy's money and heads stuffed with useless theory.

"They started to get interested again during the start of this decade but relations had become icier between the government and the tribes and the new surveying equipment and staff were chased off. Though they planned and they talked and they promised, none of the Imperial oil companies returned in time to avoid the rebellion. When tribes began announcing their allegiances, it was too late and the oil deposits now are all within rebel-held territory. It could take as long as two months to recapture that land, perhaps as long as a year if the rumours of trouble are true." Talking about subjects that were dear to him made Sir Alec forget that the man he was lecturing was an Edomite, an Edomite who was no doubt taking notes. He soldiered on and finished his explanation with a promise. "I'll mention the NPC to my minister but as a humble public servant I, naturally, cannot influence her decision except with unbiased and objective advice." Morgannon feigned another grin, this one slightly more genuine, he could respect a man who could listen to the ramblings of an Imperial civil servant, who were said to have inherited their skills from the aristocracy. "Now then, was there anything you'd like to add? And..." He held up a curvaceous decanter, "A brandy perhaps?"
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Sat Jul 13, 2019 8:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

Embassy Service - iiWiki

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Sun Jul 14, 2019 5:52 pm

Castermaine Province, New Columbia
Near Fort Castermaine


Alexander Hotspur, the Marquess of Caercardenbury, had set out from Fort Castermaine atop his steadfast steppe horse as the sun was setting and he did not up the pace until gone midnight. His mission was simple, reach the San Carloan firebase between Queensport and the government-observed border and deliver a message to whoever commanded there. The Frankenlischian lord wore a jerkin of brown leather over a cotton poet’s shirt, the jacket was buttoned up and the fur lined garment was all that kept the man from freezing in the cold steppe night. His trousers were grey, woolen and tight and tucked into knee-length riding boots. Alexander rode steadily, at a gentle trot, not wishing to tire his horse no matter how enduring she might be. He stretched as his face as he rode, feeling the prickly hairs from his lack of razors, his hair was shoulder-length as he liked it but he had never kept a beard and was dreading how it might turn out. Hotspur was an attractive man, it had to be said, strong in body and handsome in face but he had always doubted himself. Being an exile did that to a man, he was not wanted by his country, why would he be wanted by other people?

That had done it, he was weeping again and slowed his pace to a walk. Alone in the darkness, with no company but the stars and the moon and his horse, Hotspur was more comfortable than any other could be on such a lonesome road but he wept all the same. He knew he had a job to do but, as with several of the other exiles at Fort Castermaine, he sometimes doubted that his efforts would ever be worth it. They would likely be unrecognised by history. How old was Alexander again? He did not remember, the figure of thirty-two years crossed his mind but he could not remember his birthday either. It would not be recorded in the roll of peerage because, even though his title and lands were still owed to him, he could not sit in the House of Nobles and, by all accounts, he did not exist except to those that knew him. Alexander dried his eyes with a handkerchief and stifled further tears as he nudged his mare onwards, he had not had a chance to make his bed but he was still obliged to lay in the one made for him by others. Such sentiments he never spoke aloud but kept within, he pushed them down with a reminder that he had a job to do. And then he rode on.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

Embassy Service - iiWiki

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22972
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Sun Jul 14, 2019 6:01 pm

Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


Baruch listened to Sir Alec talk and paint a picture of the situation, now and then puffing on his cigarillo, sitting with his legs crossed and an attentive polite air. Now and then he nodded in understanding.

“It is always difficult,” he observed, “To build infrastructure in the wilderness. Take the Lesser Diols, for instance; endless archipelago of islands, and the ones that are larger are covered in useless rainforests that can barely support a few thousand Arvo. Then if you clear the forest, the soil is degraded by hundreds of years of the roots drinking everything to sludge. The effort and cost of shipping in fertilizer and soil, astronomical! And of course I understand the gap between deciding on a policy and the practicability of implementing it. I don’t envy you civil servants, Sir Alec. Like a soldier commanding an expedition, you have to weigh information from a variety of sources and nevertheless make what you hope is an informed decision.

“And of course, the Vionna-Frankenlischan Empire is vast, with many concerns, and New Columbia has to build a civilization in the wilderness. An admirable achievement,” he said pleasantly.

“BOPCC has made a big effort, and now apparently its effort is stuck in a savage place. Of course...not your department...but why can’t you just build roads and rails to get the stuff out, or build a pipeline? Can’t deals be worked out with the locals? These settlers I keep hearing about, why aren’t they eager for employment and local business opportunities to support its venture?” he asked in a friendly, casual manner as though merely academically interested.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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The Shrailleeni Empire
Minister
 
Posts: 2672
Founded: Oct 06, 2011
Mother Knows Best State

Postby The Shrailleeni Empire » Tue Jul 16, 2019 11:08 am

Shrailleeni Consulate, New Adeleux
New Columbia


"A formal inquiry? I am afraid that such a thing would be greatly irregular Velden," the Shrailleeni consul-general spoke into the phone.

It was a bright and cloudless day in capital of the Dominion. Although located on Ayaca it seemed cooler than most of the continent, but not unpleasantly so for a Shrailleeni islander. It was even a nice enough city for one designed on a foreign aesthetic, perhaps overly fond of marble and domes. The Shrailleeni had never regarded it important enough to warrant an embassy, preferring to simply maintain one in what they viewed as the true center of power in Vionna-Frankenlisch. New Columbia was an oddity, a insignificant colonial outpost of a barbarian empire that just happened to lie nearby Shrailleeni waters. It wasn't even close enough for economic disputes, San Carlo was more significant in that regard.

All of this Consul-General Sataryn Rennec was highly aware of. It was a low-level posting that functioned as a wrung on the foreign service ladder. Do your time helping the handful of Shrailleeni who tried to do business in New Columbia, then move on to a country that mattered. Avoid trouble like a disease. Unless the Mother Empress suddenly had a change of heart, nothing that happened here was any of Shrailleen's business.

"I do not have the authority Velden, you know that," she continued exasperatedly after the voice on the other end had subsided. "If Shrailleen has an issue with New Columbia, then we petition the ambassador in Frankenlisch," she explained. There was some noise from the receiver. "Yes I know you know that," she said, closing her eyes. She couldn't stand career men, always challenging everyone and everything, trying to prove themselves.

"I doesn't have to make sense," she said as the voice on the other end protested, slipping from High Railti into the common language before catching herself. She took a breath. No need to let her annoyance show through. "It has worked well enough until now."

More whining on the phone. She stared at the ceiling fan of her office, slowly rotating a flow of slightly cooler air around the room.

Then he said something that actually caught her attention. She sat more upright, and spoke seriously into the phone.

"If that is true, why have I not heard it from them?"

At that moment, as if by magic, a light flashed on her indicator.

"Please hold a moment Velden, it is urgent," she said curtly before pressing the button.

"Yes?" she inquired. Her secretary's voice came through the speaker. "Someone from IOP on the line for you Consul-General, they're saying that it is a time-sensitive matter."

Sataryn pursed her lips. "Thank you Treya, I will take it in one moment."

With great intent, she switched the line.

"I do not know how you set this up Velden, but we will speak about this later."

"Was it IOP?" a tinny voice was asking, but she was already hanging up.

"By the Mother, what am I getting in to here?" she asked herself out loud.

A Small Hotel, Flores
Republic of San Carlo


The Shrailleeni man was buttoning his shirt in the dim light of the dingy hotel room, sending a sideways glance at the figure still sprawled on the messy bed. It was mid-morning, early for this part of town, and he didn't want to disturb them. It had been a very fun night and he had taken a liking to this one, he hoped to be a repeat customer.

He closed the door quietly and went down to empty, run-down lobby where there was no sign of any staff or reception, then across the street to the nearest café. He ordered his usual, a quick cup of black espresso, and bantered with the owner for a few minutes about local gossip. Word was that the army was mobilizing for something, it was all anyone was talking about and speculation was rampant. He made a dismayed face.

"God, as if business wasn't bad enough," he bemoaned, shaking his head. This produced a laugh from the owner. "Man I keep telling you, those big birds of yours are never going to sell here. This is ranch country!"

"Don't tell me that!" he protested, but it was a conversation they had almost every day. Zella'at "Zel" Varethiya was a representative of Mountain Eggs and Meat, a private farming corporation subsidized by Imperial Agricultural Exports. Or at least that was what it said on his visa. In reality he was an agent for Shrailleeni Imperial Strategic Intelligence, SISI, operating in San Carlo.

"One day I'll get you to try it," he concluded feebly, but this was part of the performance. Then he went to the store next door to buy two new packs of cigarettes, some of the good Chacano ones. He made a mental note to stock up before he got back to the islands. Shrailleen made better coffee than Ayacans did but its tobacco was terrible.

He made one more stop before returning to the hotel, checking on the dead drop that was set up in the area. Most of the time it was just an empty, busted air conditioner sticking out of the side of an empty storefront. Today, though, when he tapped the bottom there was some resistance. He casually slipped the packet into his newspaper, and then headed up the stairs. Looks like today is a work day.

His bedroom guest was awake when he walked back through the door. The young man was muscular and deeply tan, a short length of slightly curly hair on his head. He had boyish good looks, though Zel was certain that they were close to the same age. He wasn't sure if it was the teasing look in his brown eyes or the way his smile looked under his well-groomed mustache, but he was coming dangerously attached to this one. It could also be admiration, it took a kind of mad bravery to be homosexual in San Carlo, something that was difficult for a Shrailleeni to understand.

"Hola," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Hola," said Christian.

"Have you stolen all of my money yet?" he said with a small smile.

"Only half, you came back too soon. You bring me anything?"

Zel tossed him one of the new packs, which he caught deftly. "You treat me so nice."

"Yeah, I'm a sucker."

"So, what are we going to do today?"

"I thought I only paid up through the night."

"I stole half your money, remember?"

Zel sat down on a wooden stool near the door and tried to hide how charmed he was.

"Nothing today amor, I have work to do."

"That's okay," Christian said, tapping the pack against the nightstand, "I don't mind sticking around."

"Actually probably best that you don't."

Christian looked at him puzzled. He stared back, his expression completely serious. He could tell in an instant that he had hurt Christian's feelings. This was the kind of thing that kept him from getting to attached. You stupid romantic shit, he thought to himself.

"Alright, I get it," Christian finally said. He got up and started getting dressed while Zel opened his own pack and lit up. He opened his wallet and pulled out a hundred of the local currency. "Here," he said, offering it as Christian came toward the door.

He looked at the offered money disdainfully and said in a haughty voice "no cariño you keep it, all paid up remember?" He opened the door and gave Zel a look, one that came with a little flex. "You know you're going to miss me."

"I'll see you tonight," Zel said, meeting his eyes. That took him aback apparently, because he didn't say anything as he shut the door. Zel listened to him go down the stairs, took another drag, and then opened the packet. It was full of papers covered in a pictographic script. He took it over to the room's one desk, and turned on the lamp.

He set the still-lit cigarette on the edge of the ash tray, the smoke curling into the air beside him as he spread the papers out on the desk. All orders delivered to operatives in the field were written in code. Railti was translated into Old Fromathrine, and then put through a cypher. The idea was that even if foreign intelligence learned the cypher, they would still not know the archaic language. Once deciphered it then had to be translated back to make any sense, since Old Fromathrine was written in pictographs.

It was a lengthy process, and he had gone through another cigarette before he was finished. When he had he read the message, and then sat back incredulously, running a hand through his black hair.

They have to be joking, he thought to himself half-seriously. Why on earth would they want me to do this? But orders were orders, and it wasn't as if he had anything else to do at the moment.

Apparently he was to cross the border into New Columbia and make contact with a native settlement known as Te'vol'Hake. SISI headquarters had been quite specific about it, he had been given the authority to make the Hakemaebo several deals regarding their fight with New Columbia in exchange for information. Imperial City wanted to know their disposition, the situation in Cha'aek'rol, what allies they had, what their plans were, and what resources they possessed. If they demonstrated a willingness to work with Shrailleen, it would come down to his judgement whether or not to recommend sustained operations with them.

Someone is working for a promotion, he thought finally. Since when are the New Columbian tribes any of our business? Then he had another thought. Guess I won't be seeing him again tonight after all. That would go over well, he was sure. Then he got to work.

He spent most of the day reviewing the information on the tribes and their customs that had come with his orders. Most of it was outdated, written by traveling priestesses decades ago, but he hoped it was still accurate. Apparently Te'vol'Hake meant "Hake mountain town" in their language. Considering that his hometown of Tahlmatora meant "coast city" he supposed he couldn't argue the logic.

He did place a phone call as well, to a contact who had been useful for him in the past. He had met Lieutenant Benicio Alcaraz in a local bar, and struck up a conversation about the sad plight of his apparent profession. He had played the part of the desperate, luckless salesman and for a modest financial gift had secured passage to a wild part of the border in order to explore the feasibility of kalko ranching in the pampa. There hadn't been a secondary objective to that mission, simply to establish relations. Now he would come to him with a story about his boss wanting to explore the possibility of selling food to the natives, given their recent plight. With rumors that the army was mobilizing on the border, he figured that this would be his safest bet.

He called and went to voicemail, then left a message in fluent Spanish. "Hey Benito, it's Zel. I have another good business opportunity I want to run past you, call me back or if you're in town meet me at the bar tonight. Hasta luego."
أدرس اللغة العربية وهي لغة جميلة
Mother of One, Mother of All
Ask Me Anything IC
Come to the Mother's Embrace
New Edom wrote:Elizabeth Salt remarked, "It's amazing, isn't it, you rarely see modern troops that wear their 19th century uniforms and gear so well--they must drill all the time. Is this a guards outfit?"

Sif said to her, "This is a modern Shrailleeni Empire military parade. Like as in this is what they wear, this is what they use. This is it."

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Neue Regensburg
Envoy
 
Posts: 213
Founded: Jan 19, 2019
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Neue Regensburg » Tue Jul 16, 2019 11:10 am

8 Legation Street, Frankenlisch

Ambassador Count von Westhaven tapped his pencil on his desk, and he sighed. He had a relatively uneventful day, having driven his Tesla Model X around the capital city of Vionna-Frankenlisch, seeing the sights with his family. He had just gotten back when he saw the memo from Kronstadt. Regensburg would not take an observer’s membership in the Frankenlischian Commonwealth… and his job just became ten times harder. He picked up the phone and called Sir Frederick Basildon, and waited for the knight to pick up. “Hello, Sir Basildon, I believe we need to speak with one another regarding your proposal.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to relax a little bit before the difficult conversation to come.




Base Camp, Outside New Adeleux

Pierre rode into the base camp with the Lancers, and tied his horse up with the rest of them. He saw Sosabowski, Bohrjevski and Murat sit down to a bottle of vodka, but he instead chose a stump to sit on and sat down. He found a stick, and pulled out a knife from its easily accessible holster, and began whittling the stick. As he shaved the wood off the stick bit by bit, he began humming an old song that was popular among soldiers in Regensburg, the Palästinalied. It speaks of a great battle in the holy city of Jerusalem, and Jerusalem has been figuratively taken to mean several things throughout the years.
Last edited by Neue Regensburg on Tue Jul 16, 2019 11:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Wed Jul 17, 2019 1:46 pm

Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


Sir Alec Morgannon had little reaction to Baruch's idle conversation, only nodding and smiling politely. He did not entirely doubt the ex-Major's sincerity but he was hoping to wind things up quickly. All the same, he did respect Baruch's intelligence and his musings weren't uninteresting. Alec bowed his head with a warm smile as Baruch mentioned the Frankenlkischian Empire and the remarkable task New Columbia was facing, and had faced for the past few centuries.

“BOPCC has made a big effort, and now apparently its effort is stuck in a savage place. Of course...not your department...but why can’t you just build roads and rails to get the stuff out, or build a pipeline? Can’t deals be worked out with the locals? These settlers I keep hearing about, why aren’t they eager for employment and local business opportunities to support its venture?” Baruch asked in a friendly, casual manner as though merely academically interested.

"I suppose it's fair that you know about BOPCC's failure..." Morgannon had, of course, expected the Edomites to have done their homework a little bit, "That affair was majorly embarrassing for the oil companies back in Vionna-Frankenlisch and BOPCC went under by the end of the year, even though they had significant assets in the Princedom of Ceasia. That was two decades ago, however, and I don’t know if any of their operation remains intact. As for development and the possibilities of development, that is a policy matter that you would have to discuss with my Minister. I can arrange a meeting for when she returns if you wish?”
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Thu Jul 18, 2019 3:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Wed Jul 17, 2019 2:41 pm

Base Camp, New Adeleux Province
King's Own Breem Lancers


Lieutenant Jean Passander and Captain Martin von Rotgarten sat in near silence, poking their campfire with their sabers and muttering in conversation that was very much idle. Passander held his handkerchief close to his nose, the stench of the corral permeated across the camp and he, for one, could not stand it. Things were different for the younger, yet militarily senior, von Rotgarten, a twenty-one-year-old Margrave from the Princedom of Wolfswood. He had been a Second Lieutenant in the Royal Armoured Corps before taking a significant promotion to Captain the year prior on condition that he move to the cavalry. Martin had no complaints, he had been around horses since birth and the soldier’s life did not disagree with him. It was odd that he and Passander, a Gallandic shopkeeper from a town near Adeleux who rather resented turning soldier, made such fine friends but neither would have it any other way.

Von Rotgarten knocked back a glass of throat-skinning Schnapps from Nieuwesel and Passander shook his head, a traditional Gallandian, he kept to wine and the foul-tasting ales fermented in every village in Gallandia, a tradition dating back to the reign of King Renald. Though army camps were usually loud and bustling, the large dual encampment occupied by the convoy was surprisingly quiet. Captain von Rotgarten noted that he could hear nought but distant conversation, the whinnying of the horses and the crackle of his fire. And humming… A lone officer, wearing a black, foreign uniform with a plate carrier, sat atop a tree stump, whittling. He was humming a tune, a Germanic tune that Martin knew, the Captain gestured to his friend and they wandered over to the man. Lieutenant Passander did not seem to want to disturb the officer but Martin waited until the foreigner had finished a verse before he began to sing along.

"Lands, the greatest, goodliest, fairest,
Many such mine eyes have seen;
O'er them all the crown thou bearest.
Think what wonders here have been!
From a Maid a babe did spring,
O'er the angel hosts a king;
Was not that a wondrous thing?"
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Wed Jul 17, 2019 2:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

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Neue Regensburg
Envoy
 
Posts: 213
Founded: Jan 19, 2019
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Neue Regensburg » Wed Jul 17, 2019 3:34 pm

Pierre was lost in his own thoughts, and he began to think about which shape the stick he was whittling would take. A traditional spear perhaps? No, it should be something else… something to remember this time by other than the drab official report. It was a large stick, rather wide in diameter and long, but Colonel Nathaniel Pierre was not the type of man to be deterred by a piece of wood. He was riding with the Lancers… “A lance,” he thought, and he began working on the blade. He worked with intensity, each stroke of the blade more focused and powerful than the last, for idle hands are the Devil’s playthings and an idle mind is one’s own worst enemy. His pack laid beside him, and he picked up a large canteen and stopped humming to drink from it. After doing so, he scratched his head and continued humming the song. This was when he saw two Vionnan officers approaching, both of whom looked like they could come from his own land. He watched as they took up near him, and then he heard the more Germanic looking of the two sing along. Once he had finished his verse, Pierre sang the next.

“Here was He baptized, the Holy,
that all people might be pure.
Here He died, betrayed and lowly,
That our bonds should not endure.
Else our fate had been severe.
Hail, O cross, thorns and spear!
Heathens, woe! Your rage is clear."


Afterwards, he turned to the two men and greeted them, saying "Hello, gentlemen, I do not believe that we have met." Then, turning to the one who had sang along with him and asked, "I thought only people from my land knew this song. From whence did you learn it?"
This nation has been taken up by Vionna-Frankenlisch, who retains creative control. Most posts are presently made by Republica de Gran Chaco and Noviterra.For the old owner see Nachtmark.

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Thu Jul 18, 2019 3:14 am

Base Camp, New Adeleux Province
King's Own Breem Lancers


Passander and Von Rotgarten listened in cheerful silence as Pierre sang the next verse of the holy song and Von Rotgarten joined in for the last line, his clear, aristocratic tones lending themselves quite beautifully to song.

"I thought only people from my land knew this song. From whence did you learn it?" Pierre had said.

Martin adjusted his round, wire-framed glasses and replied, “From my homeland, in Wolfswood. My dear mother, a Vionnan Christian all her life, used to sing it to me. She wanted me to join one of the church militias but I had greater aspirations than that.” He smiled, a pretty smile that distorted his small black moustache. It would have been hard to make out either officer’s face in the darkness, especially with them standing up, but both seemed handsome. “Captain Martin von Rotgarten,” the younger, taller man introduced himself, “Margrave von Rotgarten.” He added, without pretense or pomp.

“Lieutenant Jean Passander,” the other replied with an outrageous Gallandic accent, “At your service.” His hair was dirty-blonde and stretched down to his shoulders, his uniform was tired but worn impeccably.

Martin, whose uniform was also worn perfectly but turned out much nicer, asked kindly, “And you, sir? I do not recognise you from the Lancers.”


Parliament Square, City of Frankenlisch
Foreign Ministry, Diplomatic Service Building


"Call for you, Sir Frederick," Jenny, Sir Frederick Basildon's secretary informed him. "From Legation Street, Count von Westhaven."

Sir Frederick sometimes wondered why he even needed a secretary, as the Diplomatic Service's main liaison with Neu Regensburg (officially titled His Imperial Majesty's Agent for Regensburg), his role was not a major one. His hopes had been perked up when he was asked to meet with Count von Westhaven in the new embassy on Legation Street but, as a news-savvy man, he knew that the Regensburger legislature had turned down the offer and he assumed that this was what the Count Ambassador was calling about. "Very well," Basildon replied with a sigh, "Send him through."

The line was sent over to Sir Basildon's telephone and he picked it up. "Count Joshua? Basildon here.” He replied in introduction. “I was rather expecting a call from you, I’ve been keeping up with the news over there rather well and I heard your lot didn’t take our proposal too well. So, then… Lay on Macduff.” Basildon spoke clearly and expected a counter-proposal, though he feigned delight while speaking with the Count Ambassador, he was rather miffed, after all, much of his career was based on Imperial-Regensburger relations and this had been a setback for the Commonwealth he loved so dearly. Basildon placed a cigarette in his mouth and listened to Von Westhaven’s response.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22972
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Thu Jul 18, 2019 2:23 pm

Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy



Cyril Baruch drew on his cigarillo and then blew out of the side of his mouth away from the other man. “Let me see if I understand you, Sir Alec. Apparently your Dominion has a fuel crisis bad enough that it cannot keep supply movements going on to defeat a rebellion. The oil company that was developing the fuel rich region has gone under, and there are no immediate plans to renew the development or contracts.”

He took another drag and said blandly, “May I make so bold as to ask if there have been other bids than NPC’s to help develop the resources? Because NPC will make a higher bid. Furthermore, NPC will be prepared to provide a fuel advance against length of contract. Of course they would also want full access to all prospecting and grading information, but that would only make sense. It would be a great deal. Your Dominion gets the fuel, the assured promise of the development of an oil industry, NPC would hire a great many people locally, people get richer, and along the way you get the petrol to enable your forces here to crush that rebellion, kick ‘em back to the stone age. If they are not there already,” he chuckled. “But...perhaps you have other substantive offers that make this one irrelevant?”

“By the way,” he said with a smile, “Please don’t pretend, Sir Alec, that you do not advise on and guide policy. You are far too modest. I’m sure that if you recommend it, a meeting can be set up with your minister--not simply with me but with a director from NPC--that will be to mutual benefit.”
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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McNernia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5241
Founded: Oct 05, 2011
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby McNernia » Thu Jul 18, 2019 2:41 pm

Peurto Barrios
International Airport



The crew of the aircraft would say that they just went where they were told which was New Columbia not San Carlo. They were not trained for this, the paras would be a little more tightlipped everyone would not exactly try to defend themselves as they were taken much too quickly/ The aviation crew was just a crew, glorified airline pilots who did not expect for the most part to be down behind enemy lines. So they would not expect to be interrogated. So they were enduring yes but , stripping was odd. Then again this wasn't some movie you downloaded off the internet. This was real, the paras were not trained for being rush beaten. So they did not resist for the most part. Being dragged off the plane. (Im going with what New Edom said happened.)

The interrogators would not get much though from FACs and Paras as they were trained for capture. But not for being treated like the terrorists they were trained to stop.

The papers on board would confirm that, the aircraft had filed a flight plan with the Expeditionary Command to fly to New Adeleux in New Columbia as there was a need to ensure there was an adequate base. Also to get trained military eyes on the situation. They would show that there was concern about New Columbia’s capacity to among other things police its own airspace. Though the papers would not say whether it was fuel shortages or the logistics chain that was drawing the Mcnernians. Indeed the papers showed that there was confusion about what was taking a modern enough army so long. Hence the commandos to help them. Advisors rather than a strike force. The plans were to base at least four dozen combat aircraft out of new Columbia. The target would be native insurgents.

They would not exactly break easily. Well the flight crew would and they would not know much.

What San Carlosians Would Find
-Flight crew breaks saying they did not know much.
-Mcnernian personnel were not supposed to be in San Carlo
-The arrival of the aircraft was accidental
-Papers and data would show that the plane was on its way to New Columbia due to the fact that there was a country taking time to clean out its native problems.
-There was nothing beyond infantry weapons in the hold. PDWs, ARs, and gear for directing airstrikes



Image
OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA
OFFICE OF THE FOREIGN MINISTER OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA



TO: The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of San Carlo
CC:Cornellian Peace Organization, Organization of Acayan States
FROM:HM Foreign Affairs Ministry
SEC:STANDARD
SUB:Compensation and Promises




Greetings
HM Government would like to know what your desire is regarding compensation. So that we might show by the act of providing such that our intentions were not to destabilize Acaya. However pleased be advised that aid is subject to Parliamentary approval.

We never had any intention of destabilizing San Carlo. No intentions against you or your nation.

Rest well assured that appropriate action will be taken to prevent anything like this happening again. Persons concerned shall be disciplined for their mistakes. This was an accident. Nothing more.

Sincerely,L.Caldosean MP Minister of Foreign Affairs


Image
OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA
OFFICE OF THE FOREGIN MINISTER OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA



TO: The Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Holy Empire of New Edom
FROM:HM Foreign Affairs Ministry
SEC:SECRET
SUB:Current Situation




Greetings
The aircraft in question is a variable geometry winged supersonic transport assigned to the Expeditionary Command of the Royal Air Force. Assigned to carry of the Logistics and basing specialties. As well as Special Forces advisors. The aircraft apparently suffered some manner of navigational malfunction or simply failed to transmit a flight plan and ended up in the airspace of the Republic of San Carlo where it was intercepted and made to land. The reason for the logistics team and others being dispatched was to pave the way for arrival of an expeditionary Air group to support the New Columbians against insurgents. A bid for influence as you no doubt know.

I know of no covert operations beyond those carried out by our personnel duly authorized in the Dominion of New Columbia to carry out duties in regards to diplomacy and the gathering of Information for HM Government's Interest.

If you are referring to how we got the Intelligence according a report there was a drunken New Columbian who was depressed about losing to savages due to the brass causing problems. And we caught wind of it.
Rest assured that the government of New Columbia accepted our offer.
Sincerely,
L.Caldosean MP Minister of Foreign Affairs


Joint Base Tyrannis, New Edom
V Adm Stephen Macnarin-HMS Zadok Hespernius



“Cathcride did what?”

“Apparently sir there was some manner of buffoonery around the whole Gaffe complex….after we got a guarantee about no need to apologize we go and do something that Elijah IV warned against.” Follass was not happy as much as his commander was. The New Edomites would not be happy about this as they would no doubt be going after the Mcnenrians. There was not much that the Vice Admiral could do as head of the (Acheron/Cornellian) Squadron. He was not a diplomat and to try something using his royal name would not be a good thing. He looked at Folass. “Maybe the PM should have run this by me first since Im the highest ranking officer in the Region.”

“Yes they should, but they didn’t, I guess someone in Cathcride wants the sane ones out of the country while the fools are running the show.”

“I agree sir.”


Cathcride, Mcnernia


The Prime Minister looked at the Defense Minister. “So you fired him?” The man in question was the head of the Air Forces Expeditionary Command a small bunch who were inclined to undertake deployments a long way from home. The Prime Minister had sacked him on the grounds that he had not gone through the Ministers before coming to the PM. So the Defense Minister had of course been summoned along with the Chief of Air Staff who had recommended the appointment of the man to head the Air Force units that would be operating overseas.

“Yes I did and now both of your are fired, as is Claybourne. All three of you can resign with honor or Ill have your offices cleared out. Maybe Price while Im at it, because he and you are chummy isn’t that right Keith….”

“Whatever you say sir….keep in mind it was you who agreed to the plan…and didn’t fire the head of the Expeditionary…”

“Out.”

The Air Marshal saluted and left knowing his career as Chief of Air Staff was over. The King would be informed if he had not already been so. He would do what he had to do to keep his reputation as Angar would be calling for an inquiry into who had planned this Operation. One underling planned it, maybe get rid of a colonel as well.

The Prime Minister was grim as he dismissed his now fired minister and general officer and asked to get the King on the line. Such a thing as a mass dismissal required an audience to sort out.. He asked his secretary to draw up the relevant documents to be handed out to the Director of Special Forces and the head of Expeditionary Command. He had fired the higher ranking officer to his face because Dillan was a Knight he deserved that small courtesy. He would assume the MoD Portfolio until someone could be found maybe from among the back benchers. But as of now he had a king to brief.


The Next Day


The King looked at the Prime Minister as they took tea together on the porch looking at the garden, down below the King's children sat about as they were inclined to do on a warm summer's day. “So you'll run the defense ministry until you can find someone to do it?”

“Yes your majesty the fact is I don’t think that I can trust Price either, indeed the whole of the General Staff is suspect as all hell due to the 2014 issue.”
“And today is the anniversary of that event.”

The Mcnernian people would protest and the Prime Minister knew that it had been about five years since the issue had come and gone. Martinez was dead, sure some young lawyers wanted to get rid of the government but the current situation had Angar being criticized due to the fact of his well known pressuring of the government. One had to wonder if a General election was on the Horizon. The King and the Prime Minister discussed the issues of the day. The Nifonese as well as Kesslerstaadt. So there was much on the economic front.

“All I can say is that economic and social stability is the priority here and getting those men back.”

“Yes your majesty.”




What Happened
King wants stability maintained and men back.


Parliament, House of Commons
Some Time Later



The discussion had been the firing of the Defense Minister and a member of the General staff in addition to the policy in Cornellia. What did Mcnernia need, the answer was oil as much as there was Nuclear power the need for oil and also investment was there. Then again it was mostly in New Edom if anywhere at all. So the need to get involved in Acaya was wondering why. They had resources but the issue of the prestige was brought up. The prestige within the Santiago Alliance. But that was secondary to prestige among regional neighbors. Did Mcnernia need to go kicking down doors over missing planes? The answer was Mcnernia needed markets for goods. Someone rose in opposition to that. The speaker called for order and it to return to the Prime Ministers accounting for the firing of the Defense Minister, the Chief of Air Staff and the Head of Expeditionary Command.

Stephen Neal the recently fired minister of defense who had spent the night clearing out his office looked at the Speaker who looked back. “The speaker recognizes the former Minister of Defense.”
“Members of this august house. It was I who recommended the gentlemen in question to the Prime Minister for appointment to the positions which they hold. But I did not know that they would propose such an operation, going behind my back like they did. I doubt I would approve such a plan, stuffing advisors on the first transport to Cornellia. The fact that the officers in question went behind my back shows that they knew I would not approve of the plan. Therefore while the Prime Minister is justified in firing them he should resign as well, he abetted such negligence. Therefore I move that this house submit a motion to the King to accept the resignation of the Prime Minister. And the whole cabinet currently serving such a man so that there might be a new government to chart a path away from ineptitude and towards dialogue with all the nations of Cornellia.”

The motion was ruled as valid but would be put off as the business of finding a new defense minister was deemed imperative. The Prime Minister did not object as he was willing to do deals with the opposition. The agenda to secure influence in Cornellia without New Edom would be nominally shelved. The nominees were two allies of the Foreign Minister who before 2014 had been a minor MP but thanks to one he had been given money and then the other he had been made Foreign Minister. Now there was Gordon MacHaddon a lord and uncle , Duke of Talonmount and a peer of the realm. Uncle to one of the captured men. One questioned his capacity to authorize the commitment of forces to the wars of the future. When his nephew though not his Hier was in the hands of a country who had declared war in essence. The Communique had been read out before the House. So that they might take up the issue and it had caused problems. Namely some of the opposition calling for an example to be made. To crush San Carlo. Which was defeated as Angar believed it would be best to wait until the issue with the Ordenites was resolved. If anything at all needed to be done. Besides diplomacy.

The other candidate for the post of Minister of Defense was a junior Libertarian and a capable Cuscatlani descended merchant. Though not an Arms dealer which was deemed by the Liberals to be a conflict of interest.

The House of Commons approved and the PM was allowed to submit the motion to the Sovereign a formality but that would put Juan Aguila in the post of Minister of Defense within two days and see the Foreign Minister who was allied with the PM in a position of Influence. Though the Duke of Talonmount had from Lords bankrolled Caldoseans campaign.

Result of Session at about 48 Hrs Plus incident in San Carlo
-Prime Minister asked to resign, Motion shelved for later consideration
-Minister of Defense needed to be replaced, Juan Agulia nominated by the House for confirmation by the Sovereign. To serve as Minister of Defense. Served in Mcnernian Royal Navy as A Commander of a submarine.



Ministry of Defense,
Crisis Plus 72 Hours



Whilst serving as Minister of Defense the PM had authorized and initiated an Internal inquiry by HM Military Police service into the issues of the plane going off course. Of course also the Ministry of Transport which oversaw the navigational aids used by Mcnernian and Commonwealth aircraft. That was being checked along with CCHQ which handled cyber security. The issue would not easily be resolved due to the time it would take to examine the data. Juan Aguilas first act as the Minister of Defense within the hour of being confirmed by Emilion IV after an interview leaving the Royal Palace jubilant that party loyalty had paid off for him made it known the investigation was to spare no one, Not Dillan, Claybourne, the Chief of the General Staff would be made to appear as well before HM Judge Advocate General. The head of the Justice System of HMAFM. Who would oversee the investigation.

The issue of the plane, it being in the hands of the Carlosians meant that the systems could not be checked and so the investigation was rather incomplete. All signs pointed to an accident and an accident could be confirmed with the black box of the aircraft's flight computer. It was considered to send a formal request, the Judge Advocate General recommending this to the San Carlosians in regards to the data. The Attache to the San Carlosian Embassy in New Edom would be invited to observe the investigation this was considered. CCHQ was going through reams of code at the request of the JAG assisted by the Cyber Command of the Royal Air Force. Parliament had yet to empanel a commission to investigate the incident as HM Prosecutor was determined that things did not need that.

The Mcnernians would investigate to present things to the CPO if they wanted it and the Organization of Acayan States. Diplomacy was the name of the game here not kicking in doors. Parthia was one end of the spectrum and the Mcnernians were another. In Mcnernia one wondered what the San Carlosians were playing at.

An aide to the Defense Minister suspected that the Adirans were behind this and the Defense minister knew that the republic would be inclined to see the New Edomite axis contained as much as Mcnernia kept out of the region. And Acaya was closer to Arcologica then to Archeron or to the Mcnernian homeland so the possibility of all of this being an Aidrion trick of some kind. Augila turned his aide down and waited. He began considering options to get to the men back if the diplomats botched this. Mcnernia could be a good friend or a horrible enemy.
Mcnernian Actions
PM Assumed MoD portfolio in interim after the firing of previous minister and initiated investigation by military court system.
Military court system does not see the need for parliamentary commitee along with HM Prosecutor. HM Prosecutor recommended as such to Parliament.

Some speculate the Adirans had a hand in the situation.


OOC:Shrai said I have to make this make sense and Vionnas post can tie things together.
Some time before the Interception of Aquila 5300
About 48 Hours

MRAF/CRO Control Center and Earth orbit



The Satellite orbited overhead, a smallish, roughly the size of a walk in freezer object hurtled into space some time ago from the Kaisong Islands on a pillar of fire and inserted into an orbit over the southern reaches of the world. Passing over Cornellia it obeyed the command from its masters down on the earth. Cameras activated as solar panels turned towards the sun. It was launched to take pictures, as it passed over Acaya it proceeded to do just that. The machine focusing on the area of Acaya that was in the grip of instability as the New Columbians warred with the Natives. The pictures would be downloaded to the Central Reconnaissance Office and the MRAF Space Command.

The young aide took the pictures out of the hands of the technician who was charged with uploading commands to the satellite.

‘Thank you.” he said to the man who saluted and watched him go. The facility was at its heart a large control room that was full of stations. The latest batch of photographs would be delivered by hand to the Air Commands as part of the daily briefing. Best to have it done as the officers wanted. A nice paper file in their hands for them to perouse. The officer asked to have the data sent to the Analysis center downstairs as the control room took up the ground floor and offices for Space Command HQ and the CRO were above them. The monitoring equipment had been upgraded as the satellites had gone digital soon enough with the high encryption gear dating from the 1990s or something. He was just the man who collected things for the Briefing Section of the Air Force general staff. He walked to the elevator and then rode up two floors to the Analysis and Briefing and handed the print outs to the other officers who were preparing briefings for the members of the Air Force command staff. Technicians were looking at screens as the photographs were analysed and the officer waited to transport the briefings to the commander.

A technician,a woman found the things in the heart of Indig country. Structural squares that when they were magnified and compared with photographs from some time later as the sun had changed position were revealed to be oil rigs and there was no sign of human habitation. So evidently someone had built rigs and maybe the natives had driven them off perhaps. The reason that they were not found on previous satellite overpasses indicated that they were not previously of interest or more likely the satellite was not looking at that area. Though the photos were somewhat blurry. As the satellite could well have been struck by debris.

The head of the Expeditionary Command of the Royal Air Force was one such person who had the briefing and Expeditionary Command was formed for such operations as this. He would also take note of the fact that New Columbia was struggling. So CinC EXPEDCOM MRAF drafted a plan and went to the Navy.



What happened
Oil rigs found on a satellite overpass
Decision made to support the New Columbian Forces.
Went to the Navy.
Last edited by McNernia on Fri Jul 19, 2019 6:32 am, edited 4 times in total.
Polaria
Erin Islands
Kaisong Islands
Al-Azkar
Rhodana
Eragh
Arisal
Kirav
Neu Engollon
New Edom: Clyde Hullar Ambassador
Aurora
Children of Aurora
A Luta Continua
Aneas
Tyrennia
Golgoth
Pardes
Cornellian Empire
Rostil
Sondria
Ajax
Astyria

Greater Dienstad
Endorser of the Amistad Declaration
SIgnatory of the Amistad Declaration
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A Time of Trouble
All my posts shall be dedicated to Tom Clancy. May he Rest In Peace.
I Consider the above to be Canon. Which means I want to RP with you if you've been in those regions. Or Are.

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Republica de San Carlo
Attaché
 
Posts: 84
Founded: Mar 10, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Thu Jul 18, 2019 6:03 pm

Flores, San Carlo

Lieutenant Benicio Alcaraz woke up and saw his phone blinking. He clumsily reached over for it and turned it on. He had a voicemail. He connected to his mailbox and put the phone to his ear and closed his eyes again to listen to it.

"Hey Benito, it's Zel. I have another good business opportunity I want to run past you, call me back or if you're in town meet me at the bar tonight. Hasta luego."

Benicio smiled, Zel was always good for a bit of an adventure and it always lined Benicio’s pockets. He worked in the headquarters for military district 3 and had access to what was generally going on in the district. His HQ credentials could get him access all over the place, mostly because people had little idea about what he really did, which was man the filing and archiving of the paperwork that went through the command. He called Zel back and told him that he would be good to go at the bar that night after he got off of work.




Benicio arrived that night at the bar after work still wearing his uniform. He went up to the bar and ordered a drink and waited for his contact to show up. He smiled at some of the girls that were there and gave them a wink. He checked his watch and wondered if he had time to flirt a bit. Benicio walked over to a dark haired beauty to pass the time with.

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22972
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Thu Jul 18, 2019 7:31 pm

To: The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of McNernia
From: Hosidius Geta, Foreign Minister, the Holy Empire of New Edom
Subject: Violation of Sovereign Agreements
Encryption: Most Secret



I can scarcely find the words to convey my government’s displeasure upon the receipt of your letter. You have informed me that not only has your government sent a group of military officers to New Columbia without informing ours first, but you intend to interfere in what is a purely local conflict in Ayaca without informing us.

Perhaps your ministry has been living under a rock for the past several months, but the Holy Empire has, with great care, established an agreement with the Organization of Ayacan States which recognizes its right, as a group, to establish treaties and diplomacy, with regard to all development within the range of Aaca and Arcologia, in exchange for mutual recognition of our developments and our territory. This is considered vital to the balance of power in our Region. With a single blundering, foolish, impetuous act, your government has threatened that balance. Not only that, but you insult our intelligence by stating that you sent this expedition as a result of what amounts to a rumour heard in a lavatory.

Let me be absolutely clear: while our nations are allies, we are extra-regional allies. Your nation is not welcome to make secret agreements with other nations in the Region without consulting our government prior to even planning them. Your government is called upon, therefore, to do the following.

1. Your government will issue an apology to all the Organization of Ayacan States for mistakenly interfering with their balance of power in the Region.
2.Your government will share all current intelligence regarding New Columbia with my government in a separate most secret labeled document, and will not share it with any other government.
3. Your government will share all current operational plans related to the arrival of the plane near Ayaca.
4. Your government will put on hold any and all military activities which would involve sending any forces to Cornellia.

Let me be perfectly blunt, as your government leadership has had a tendency to treat our previous words as wind: your nation’s efforts to gain territory in our Region are unwelcome. Any further attempts to do so will result in serious reconsideration of our alliance.

I have the honour to be
Hosidius Geta
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Holy Empire of New Edom


“Oh Mother of God, Minister!” cooed Lara as she leaned her pretty, chestnut haired head back, her shoulders thrust forward as the Minister sighed, sinking his fingers gently but firmly into soft scented flesh, greedily drinking.

He paused, contemplated the heavy fruitlike flesh before him and sighed deeply, so perfect as he traced the outlines, each bump and curve, and then looked into her eyes. “Oh Lara, why do I stray when you are perfection itself? So life giving, so tasty! Perfectus lac, as they say!”

“Oh Minister, you say the sweetest things…” his PA breathed as he began to bury his face in the right one again.

There was a buzz on his phone.

“Oh hell,” he said. He nodded to her, and the pretty young secretary sat up on the desk and picked up the phone. “Minister Geta’s office...oh...I see…” she tapped the hold button and looked at him, still charmingly arrayed in her dress shirt and skirt but with all the buttons undone and the cups of her bra to either side of her. ‘It’s Count Lalery, sir. Will you speak with him?”

Geta sighed. “All these interruptions. Very well.” he nodded to her, and he felt a keen stab of regret as she began putting her wardrobe back together, such a sweet sight though, leaning forward to replace and stuff everything where it should be. This was more enticing than any naked peasant, which seemed animal like and boring to him.

“Thomas,” he said into the receiver.

“Geta. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said the gruff voice on the other end.

“Not at all, always delighted to hear from you, my friend. What may I have the pleasure of doing for you?” asked Geta, sitting back behind his desk. Lara smiled and returned to the outer office.

“This McNernia business had me thinking about what they’re up to. Did you know that NPC has been exploring interests in New Columbia?” asked Lalery.

“I was not aware, but now I am. Do go on,” said Geta. He checked his appearance in a mirror, and noticed his tie was askew, his hair untidy, and he began to, with the aid of a small mirror, put things to rights.

Lalery explained to him about the failed New Columbian efforts at prospecting (available through public reports) and their local oil crisis, and Caleb Ahitophel’s intelligence gathering mission. “I wanted it all kept discreet, and didn’t want to put too heavy a government hand on it, but I’m concerned about whether or not others know, and what’s going on in that regard. I think it would be a good idea if your boys down in Ayaca started probing a bit. Not too hard mind you, but if we can, peacefully, get in on a good deal, it would greatly be to our credit and advantage.”

Geta considered as he finished with his comb. “Well….you know we are concerned about blundering around down there. I would recommend that we can gather intel, but at the end of the day, why not simply get NPC to negotiate a good deal with…” he looked at a map on his computer and said smoothly, “New Columbia or San Carlo?”

“Well,” said Lalery, “Who owns the oil patch?”

Geta hesitated. “I’m not entirely sure. Let me consult my officials. I’m...not seeing any new maps in our database.”

After getting off the phone with Lalery, Geta sent a note to Dr. Scroll, who headed the overall diplomatic missions to the OAS, and asked him to brief the other ambassadors about the issue. He was also to tell the Ayacan ministers concerned with the present McNernian blunder that New Edom had the matter well in hand and was in conversations with the McNernian authorities about how to resolve the matter, and hoped for a swift resolution.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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The Shrailleeni Empire
Minister
 
Posts: 2672
Founded: Oct 06, 2011
Mother Knows Best State

Postby The Shrailleeni Empire » Thu Jul 18, 2019 9:24 pm

Flores, San Carlo

Zel had started keeping to the local customs regarding style since being sent to Flores. He kept his hair short the way Ayacan men did, as a younger man he kept it slightly longer in front and styled with gel. He had even attempted to grow a mustache, and had somewhat succeeded to his own surprise, but had ultimately decided that he looked better without one. With his hair short and dressed in the local style, he could be mistaken for an Ayacan. His skin tone was closer to that of the Ayacan natives, however, which occasionally had earned him looks. Once or twice when it became very inconvenient he would reveal his Shrailleeni identity, though if anything this gave him more looks.

He made his way down to the bar in which he had first met Benecio. It was a decent enough place, and well-located enough to service both military and businesses people who wanted something more off-beat than downtown could offer. There was even a sidewalk. The night air had taken a bit of the edge off of the day, but it was still warm.

Zel slid into the bar and took a look around. People were just starting to trickle in from the street. He spotted Benicio right away, still wearing his uniform, flirting with one of the women at the bar. An Ayacan with dark hair, very pretty by any standard. Flirting outside of Shrailleen wasn't all that different actually, once you got the hang of it. You just had to think like a woman, so to speak.

He walked up to the man and patted him on the shoulder, smiling charmingly to the woman.

"Hola Benito, good to see you! And very good to see you señorita," he said with a little bow of the head that purposefully marked him as an islander.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. Do you have a drink? I'm about to order."
أدرس اللغة العربية وهي لغة جميلة
Mother of One, Mother of All
Ask Me Anything IC
Come to the Mother's Embrace
New Edom wrote:Elizabeth Salt remarked, "It's amazing, isn't it, you rarely see modern troops that wear their 19th century uniforms and gear so well--they must drill all the time. Is this a guards outfit?"

Sif said to her, "This is a modern Shrailleeni Empire military parade. Like as in this is what they wear, this is what they use. This is it."

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1731
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Fri Jul 19, 2019 5:39 am

Parliament Square, Frankenlisch
Commons Chamber, Halls of Government


It was Wednesday, 1pm had just hit in the Kingdom of Frankenlisch and the MPs of the nation took their seats for Prime Minister's Questions. Dochlov Zimmermann sat comfortably in the curved, green cushioned bench, the situation having calmed down since the tense days of the New Edom Crisis. Now the Thouthenian fleet was defeated at sea and Vionna-Frankenlisch was at war, though nobody seemed to notice. Thouthen was many leagues away and the business of Imperion as a whole, the Imperial Military would involve itself when the time came.

“Order! Order!” The speaker, James Orten called, “I will have order for questions to the Prime Minister!” He pointed in the direction of a clamouring MP, “Mister Jakeman, take your place, sir, and cease this shouting across the chamber! You there!” He pointed to another, “Miss Swan, if you make another gesture like that I will have you suspended from the House. Order!”

It took time, but eventually the House quietened down. It was, as the nation was fond of saying, ‘the most overpaid daycare in the nation’. The gong was struck and questions were allowed to begin. The first to stand, shooting out of his chair like a rocket, was Norbet Hamilton, the Imperial MP for Edrington City. “The Right Honourable Member for Edrington City,” Orten called and pointed in Hamilton’s direction.

“Thank you, Mister Speaker.” Hamilton, a relatively young man and nephew to the Baron Nabury, replied graciously before directing his words towards the Prime Minister and the House. “There is a great deal of concern, Mister Speaker, regarding the position of exiles and emigres from Vionna-Frankenlisch and the Commonwealth, particularly those of noble blood. Gallandia, in particular, under the reign of King Charles the Fourth has expelled a grand total of nineteen noblemen in the last decade.” It was not a majorly interesting point to those present but this was usually the case with backbencher questions. “This country has lost nine titleholding nobles in the last five years, including Lord Ferrenham, who was a Registered Peer for the Labour Party. Would the Prime Minister not agree that there needs to be more screening involved when it comes to the exile of titleholders and that there must be more focus on tracking these exiles to avoid their fall into the service of enemies of the crown?” He spoke the last line with some gusto and Dochlov Zimmermann rose to his feet.

“I thank the Right Honourable Member for Edrington City, he raises quite an important point in these times of international trial. I must say that I absolutely agree with him, exile from our nation is a sad truth that we must acknowledge more and keep in order. It remains a useful penalty for infractions of our many codes and creeds but we cannot allow injustice to reign and the Right Honourable Member has my word that I will look into the possibilities for greater tracking of exiles and greater investigation of exile decrees.”

There came another question, this time about the state of rail services on the Prodavan border, a subject Zimmermann did not give a shit about. Even the speaker looked bored as the Member for North Kundakci droned on about gauges. Finally, Zimmermann dodged the question and the speaker called. “The Shadow Foreign Minister, the Right Honourable Member for Central Vladimirska.”

John Harkness came to his feet with a charismatic grin on his young, well structured face. He was a very attractive man but hard to pin down politically. “Thank you, Mister Speaker, I am honoured.” The Labour shadow cabinet member was one of the greatest assets of the opposition frontbench. “In light of the events currently transpiring in New Columbia, namely the conflict against rebels within that nation. I would like to ask the Prime Minister if he has plans to support the Dominion of New Columbia either militarily or economically in this fight. In particular I would like to hear the Prime Minister’s mind on the fuel-oil situation in New Columbia.”

This, Zimmermann had not expected. Questions about the Commonwealth were fair enough but queries regarding New Columbia, the bastard child of the Commonwealth states, were few and far between. When the Speaker announced him, the Prime Minister stood, unwavering. “Mister Speaker, to begin with, there are certain details regarding the military situation which I am not at liberty to disclose.” He lied. This caused hoots from the opposition benches and confused muttering from the Imperial Party frontbench, in truth, there was nothing classified at all but the suggestion could help in future. “I can confirm that a regiment of cavalry based in New Columbia is supporting the offensive there but have yet to see combat to the best of my knowledge. As for economic support, until we receive a request from the New Columbian government, this government is in little position to offer said support.” He went on to explain, mostly for the benefit of spectators on television, radio or in the elevated viewing stands above the semi-circular benches. “As I’m sure the Right Honourable Gentleman already knows, the status of Imperial Dominions are the prerogative of the King in his position as Head of the Commonwealth. Though this government takes a… Favourable view of the Commonwealth, unlike some other Parties I might mention who wish nothing more than the destruction of centuries of sacrifice.” He made the accusation with feigned malice and a sweep of his arm at the Labour and Worker’s Socialist Parties. “We must observe the proper procedure. As for the fuel-oil situation, I am well aware of the potential for oil resource cultivation in the Imperial Dominion of New Columbia and I assure the House that this government has every plan to exploit those possibilities once they are available to us.”

“The Leader of the Opposition, the Right Honourable Member for Irington!” This was it, the moment everybody waited for during a PMQ session.

“Mister Speaker, thank you. I am so very glad to hear that the Prime Minister is dedicated to the further raping of our planet with the inconsiderate exploitation of natural resources.” The three-member Green Party erupted into cheering and the Labour Party continued their own jeering towards the government. The Speaker seemed worried about the use of the term ‘rape’ but allowed it to stand. Thomas Howe, the Labour leader, continued. “I think it’s fair to say that everyone in this House knows damn well that the situation in New Columbia is not going to be contained within the Commonwealth and action will not be exclusive to the United Kingdom of Vionna-Frankenlisch. Does the Prime Minister truly believe that New Columbia will not turn into the next scraps for the greedy nations of Cornellia to squabble over? Is he really naive enough to think that New Edom, San Carlo, Gran Chaco, the Shraileeni and all the other regional powers are not digging their claws in as we speak?” Now was the time to deploy his ace card, Thomas Howe flicked through his papers and drew a particular copied document and held it above his head. “It appears that the situation is not even limited to Cornellia. This is a copy of a letter sent to the Ministry of Defence in New Adeleux by the government of McNernia. It offers the unconditional supply of, and I quote, ’several thousand gallons of petrol, Kerosense and diesel product’, along with infantry and aerial support for military operations.” He lay the paper back down with a grin. “I have heard further rumours this very morning that the Edomite oil company NPC has sent investigators into New Columbia to investigate the potential for investment. Will the Prime Minister condemn this foreign involvement in what is clearly a Commonwealth matter, or will he roll over and accept foreign intervention?”

Damn him… Damn that bastard… This was the second time that Howe had done this to Count Dochlov Zimmerman and he would not let it happen again. “I do not condemn the actions of these nations,” Zimmermann resolved, “as my Right Honourable friend, Mister Howe, has produced no more evidence than a single ridiculous letter and some baseless rumours.” It seemed like a cop-out but Zimmermann continued, “I would say, however, that if any nation attempts to assert itself in New Columbia, they will be involving themselves in a Dominion of the crown and spreading influence where they are not wanted. New Columbia has their own government, they are mature enough to make their own choices but, ultimately, they are at the will of the Crown and meddling in Crown affairs brings one at odds with King, Empire and Commonwealth. Thank you, Mister Speaker.” Zimmerman resumed his seat.


Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


“Let me see if I understand you, Sir Alec. Apparently your Dominion has a fuel crisis bad enough that it cannot keep supply movements going on to defeat a rebellion. The oil company that was developing the fuel rich region has gone under, and there are no immediate plans to renew the development or contracts.”

"No plans that I have been made aware of." Sir Alec clarified, eager to get this over with. He produced a cigarette from his silver case and lit it up as he continued. "Other than that, you are entirely correct. Although the crisis' affect on the military is not public news yet, I had a feeling you knew about that anyway." Baruch was a resourceful man, Morgannon had met few like him, he felt it fair to assume that Baruch knew more than he did on the subject.

“May I make so bold as to ask if there have been other bids than NPC’s to help develop the resources? Because NPC will make a higher bid. Furthermore, NPC will be prepared to provide a fuel advance against length of contract. Of course they would also want full access to all prospecting and grading information, but that would only make sense. It would be a great deal. Your Dominion gets the fuel, the assured promise of the development of an oil industry, NPC would hire a great many people locally, people get richer, and along the way you get the petrol to enable your forces here to crush that rebellion, kick ‘em back to the stone age. If they are not there already,” he chuckled. “But...perhaps you have other substantive offers that make this one irrelevant?”

Morgannon took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke away from Baruch. He had met few Edomites and, though he was bored, he was quickly coming to enjoy the ex-officer. "I do not know of any other bids, though I do not doubt that there are others on their way. The Ayacan nations, no doubt, are probably laying their schemes as we speak. Bloody dagos..." Morgannon did not like Edomites but in his mind the Ayacan hispanics were even worse than the savage natives. "No offers have crossed my desk and I doubt any have reached my minister. It's possible that offers have come to other government departments but those should be diverted here. I will say for you, Mister Baruch, your company presents us some very interesting, some might say generous, terms. I would like to know why you seem to have such faith that this will be a worthwile development, of course I'm not trying to ward you off but I suppose you have just piqued my curiousity."

Sir Alec smiled at Baruch's compliments. "Mister Baruch, you flatter me, I am simply a functionary." He winked. "I would recommend that a meeting be set up with my minister, dreadful woman though she is. She is meant to have the final say on policy and she'd have to review all proposals that cross this department. She could be in a better position than I to discuss this. I will certainly pass this proposal on to her." Another drag of the cigarette. "Is there anything else we ought to discuss? Perhaps anything the minister ought not hear?" He suggested bluntly.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22972
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Fri Jul 19, 2019 8:44 pm

Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy



Baruch made use of the ashtray on Sir Alec’s desk to stub out the remains of his cigarillo as he said, “The meeting ought to be set up with Mr. Caleb Ahitophel, the Foreign Trade Director for NPC. The agenda would concern potential contracts for extraction, refinement and distribution. Of course there may be other companies that can benefit. Prospecting, geological survey, refinery building, pipeline building, shipping or rail transport. I think that there could be a lot of infrastructure contracts that could be partnered. It might be wise as well to offer some of these to nations in the OAS or the CTO, that way a number of parties are getting a slice and have an interest in making sure the project goes smoothly. If your minister is correctly advised, as I am sure you are more than able to do, then the meeting should go well.

“I am curious about what you know about the temperature of the political waters, though. I mean you are a practical man or you wouldn’t be sitting in this office. You know how things are done and you know how to get them done. But elected or appointed higher persons politically are another matter, whether in my own country or yours. What do you expect the minister’s political leanings on this issue might be? Will contracting out oil development be…” he seemed to think a moment. “A vote winner for her?”
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22972
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Sat Jul 20, 2019 12:58 am

The Village of Dimona
Teman Province,
Holy Empire of New Edom


People cheered and raised their hands in blessing, and many bowed as a convoy of horses, one white, bearing the Queen-Empress, the others all dark chestnuts bearing members of the Imperial Court. Soldiers of the Imperial Halberdier Guards marched flanking this convoy, their eyes alert to control the crowd. While they did wear 19th Century full dress uniforms with tall shakos, cotton embroidered dark tunics and trousers tucked into polished leather boots, they were carrying assault rifles and bayonets.

The ladies in waiting wore long red gowns of scarlet silk with blue and gold embroidery at the hems and sleeves, and golden jeweled belts, but the Queen-Empress was naked, her smooth olive toned skin exposed to the air. She wore beaten gold rings around her wrists and ankles, supple thighs and arms bare above and around the barrel of her horse.. Her head was adorned with an enormous crown made of stark gold, ornamented with red and blue and green feathers; and around her neck she wore a necklace of gold Cornellian coins beaten to flat discs, the very chain of office first worn by Queen Adah the Liberator.

As she drew near, one by one the men of Dimona approached her dumbstruck and, dropping to their knees, kissed her feet passionately, each crowding before, but sifted by the Imperial Guard before she moved on to the next man. The Queen-Empress wore a benevolent, kindly smile on her face as she moved through the village slowly, raising a hand occasionally to benevolently bless those she encountered.

Once the Monarch had arrived at the town square, near where the maior had his house, where the post office and largest church that also doubled as the court house were, with crowds all around of naked men and women and a few kilted Elwe, she spoke after silence was called for. “I am deeply proud,” she said, “To be here to bless the opening of the new rail line, which will bring the villages of this district new commerce and resources. May the people of this district and this village long be served by it, as our nation moves ever faster into a new modern age. God bless Dimona!”

With that, she pushed her sandal clad heels into the flank of the horse and moved forward as the people cheered and followed the convoy to the edge of town.

“Oh Lord,” she sighed, a bit later, as she rose from her bath on the Executive Train rose from her bath and stepped towards the adjoining steam room. Here waited her masseuse and masseur who helped her onto the large leather massage bed. She lay supine and permitted the masseuse to begin gently rubbing oils into her sublime body. She sighed as the petite hands of her servant worked in sweet smelling substances from Ayaca.

“How many more of these am I doing again?” she moaned as the expert fingers of Tomassio, the masseur, kneading the backs of her thighs.

“14,” replied Countess Merodach, her Press Advisor, who lounged on another bench nearby.

“Mmm…” sighed Mara with a bit of frustration.

“But I’ve been informed by Colonel Horvath that apparently this McNernia business has stirred up some irritation in the Vionnan parliament. Apparently there is some concern that their uprising is drawing in foreign interest.” said Merodach.

Mara raised her head. “You’re killing my massage buzz, honey. Why is this interesting? Is it even something that interests someone, the Council, my husband, who?”

“NPC,” explained Merodach. “I guess they’re investigating.”

Mara groaned and put her head back down. “If they’re investigating, they’re investigating. When it becomes important…is it important?”

“Hang on…” said Merodach, rising and heading to the door in a flash of scarlet.

“Is there something that says I give a shit about any of that?” growled Mara to Tegan, her maid, who was reading Hi! Magazine nearby and eating chocolates. Tegan shrugged and Mara threw a towel at her.

Countess Merodach returned and said, “Just that it’s a great economic opportunity, that’s all.”

“You interrupted my massage for that?” Mara looked for another towel, but, not finding one, grabbed a cushion and threw it as hard as she could. “Save it for the briefing! I have rail stations and pipeline maintenance stations to christen! Like I don’t have enough to do! Get out, and take your Vionna gossip with you! When my husband wants me to konw, he’ll tell me.” When the press advisor was gone, she lay down and snuggled herself onto the bench again.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Republica De Gran Chaco
Diplomat
 
Posts: 522
Founded: Jun 29, 2015
Right-wing Utopia

Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Sat Jul 20, 2019 1:37 am

Yanque, Chaco

“What are we doing to replace the Carlanos in Arcologia if they want their Mountain Regiment home?” Asked Minister Garcia.

“Well sir, we are going to replace them with the 2nd Infantry for the time being. It will take some time to move them out, but we feel that the situation in the islands is safe enough to wait. The Carlanos were mainly defensive garrisons at the islands that the navy was fortifying anyways.” General General Jose Felix Estigarribia said.

“Alright, that sounds fine I suppose. We are in the process of moving the 3rd Fighter Squadron and the 9th CAS Squadron there right now to show support. What army assets have begun to move?” The Minister asked.

“A Squadron Rico Scouts, two teams from the SAG, and a LRRP platoon have begun the process of shifting to San Carlo now. They are getting billeted near the border on various firebases and settling in. They are still waiting for orders. The CLI is getting close to being ready with all of their vehicles and support units. An assault battalion is being prepared as well. The Lancers will take a bit more time to move out there with their tanks and armored vehicles.” General Estigarribia said.

“How much longer?” Garcia asked.

“Two weeks and they’ll be ready to finally load onto ships. They had to move their vehicles to rail depots and there were some mix ups with that, but they are working it out. That still puts them there faster than any McNernians could be. I don’t think it will come to land conflict though. It would require so much force projection and the cause of a major war for the Mics to want to come here. I doubt New Columbia wants that kind of hassle. If they want air support, we offered some attack planes and they never accepted.” The general said.

Garcia shook his head, “I offered those planes to their Governor at the gala. I offered them the use of a platoon of chinooks to solve their logistics issue as well. They never accepted. That’s why this is so fishy. The let in the Regensburgers, and not the McNernians, both recent troublemakers. Makes you wonder whether we can trust New Columbia or Vionna-Frankenlisch at all, though either way, I doubt they want a major war over any of this. At the very least they will know that the OAS sticks together and that if they move against San Carlo, then the move against us.”

GCS Tacna

Captain Teodoro Fernandez stood on the bridge of the Type 212 Submarine as it slipped out of port of Yanque. It was a warm night and the captain watched the lights of the city slip away as they came out into open waters and turned around a cape. The submarines of the independent sub command and the ships of the Ayaca Patrol were all leaving port if they hadn’t already, and were positioning themselves around southern and western Ayaca. The ships were all on patrol listening for the approach of anything that was coming towards New Columbia. The business with the McNernian jet being forced down in San Carlo had everyone on alert.

San Carlo had informed the Navy that they had their own Type 209s being sent out on partol near their waters and that they were scrambling to get their own fleet ready for deployment, something that the Carlanos had not done in years. Chacano Task Force 1 was shifting from Arica to Yanque in preparation to support naval operations if need be with the two Dolphin class submarines detached to join the patrols of Ayaca.

Captain Fernandez looked out into the black ocean and then nodded to the other officer on the bridge, “Let’s go below.”

“Aye aye sir.” Came the response.

All of the men climbed down the latter and secured the hatch. Fernandez gave the order to dive and then made his way back to the galley. He had to walk a bit funny as the submarine was now angled, but he got to where he needed to go. Fernandez grabbed a coffee mug and dug through a cupboard and found a packet of powdered cocoa. He poured its contents into the pug then topped it off with coffee and cream. He took a spoon to mix it and headed back to operations. He stood behind the navigator and looked over his shoulder as he plotted the course. The men were going to take the boat out to sea before swinging around and coming to the main patrol zone south of the New Columbia coast.

Fernandez stayed silent and watched the men work and talk. He looked over to his first officer and asked, “Got this handled?”

“Yes sir.” Was the reply.

“Good.” Fernandez checked his watch. Alright, she’s yours for now. Wake me up if we come with in a mile of anything.”

“Aye aye sir, will do.” The first officer replied.

“Ok, carry on.” Fernandez said and them made his way back towards his cabin.

The Captain set his mug on his little desk and then sat on his bed. He unlaced his shoes and took off his dress uniform that he wore when heading out. This was replaced by a navy t shirt, a gray alpaca sweater, khaki uniform trousers, and a pair of moccasins. Once he was changed, he grabbed his drink and headed to the officers mess where he was going to meet with the department heads to go over their mission.

“Alright are we all here?” The captain asked blandly. Without and answer he began again, “Good. Ok so we are part of a patrol meant to prevent McNernian ships from entering Ayaca. As of now we are not cleared to engage, but to track and report their positions so that our surface ships or the Carlanos can intercept them. This is a pretty sensitive issue, but that being said the top of the chain does not want any more McNernians setting foot on Ayacan soil. If they try to run break the patrol line then we may be on a combat footing. Also if they show any hostility, even posturing we will be able to defend ourselves.”

“Like, defend ourselves?” the weapons officer asked smiling.

“That’s a roger. We are just short of a combat patrol right now, so make sure everyone is firing on all cylinders. Got it?” Fernandez asked.

He looked at a sheet that had a few other orders of business, “All right let’s go through some of this other stuff and then we’ll discuss the overall mission orders.”

The officer went through everything together then were dismissed to go to their normal jobs. Watches began and the submarine moved on into the night.
كان التيز سمين

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Republica de San Carlo
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Sat Jul 20, 2019 2:01 am

Flores, San Carlo

"Hola Benito, good to see you! And very good to see you señorita," he said with a little bow of the head that purposefully marked him as an islander.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. Do you have a drink? I'm about to order."


“No of course not my friend.” Benicio said happily. He turned to the girl, “I have your number, I’ll call you sometime.”

He turned his attention to Zel, “I have my drink still.”

Benicio waited for Zel to order then asked him, “Alright my friend don’t keep me waiting. What is this big opportunity that you have for us?”




To: L.Caldosean, Foreign Minister of McNernia
CC: Organization of Ayacan States, Cornellian Peace Organization
From: Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Republic of San Carlo
Subject: Intercepted Aircraft
Security: None




Minister,

Your government has not proven itself trustworthy enough for us to take your words at face value. Your constant dismissal of our concerns and your efforts to pay us off are no more honorable to us than an open bribe. The mere presence of your military is destabilizing to Ayaca, and unless think us to be very stupid, or worse, that you are very ignorant to the world, does not change that. Your condescending assurances that this was nothing more than a mistake are an insult to us. You hide behind incompetence like a child behind his mother’s apron. The fact is again, the presence of your forces anywhere in Ayaca is a threat, and will be treated as such.

We expect to be fully compensated in due time, but not before our following conditions are met:

1. A full apology to the people of San Carlo
2. A public oral and written promise signed and approved by your government promising to never send military forces to Ayaca or to aid any military adventures in Ayaca again.
3. An oral and written statement recognizing that any new action in Ayaca both directly and indirectly involved with any military force whether McNernian or not is a violation of the sovereignty of all Ayacan states and an act of war against said Ayacan states.

After these conditions have been met then negotiations for compensation and the return of your military prisoners may take place.

Jesus Gutierrez,
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Republic of San Carlo

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Republica de San Carlo
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Sat Jul 20, 2019 4:19 pm

Written with Vionna-Frankenlisch
Outpost Amarillo

Privates Cartagena and Costa sat in the sandbag bunker overlooking the approach to their firebase and talking softly to each other. The night was still, and the two soldiers had no fear as no one had ever attacked their defenses. Duty on the border was boring. It was supposed to be a place where they had to stay on alert and patrol, as the wild Indians could snap at any moment and try to kill civilized folk, but that had not happened. There had been various fights over the years between the savages and the rancher, but the army never really had to deal with that. They just kept up their presence and were left alone.

Many people on duty at the outpost would take to drinking every night. The small barracks parties were the best form of entertainment that they could get. Alcohol would be brought up by soldier who received weekend passes to go into the local villages where small brothels and bars had good business off of the soldiers who had nothing else to spend their money on.

Costa and Cartagena weren’t so lucky that night. They both had guard shifts where they lounged and tried not to fall asleep lest a wandering corporal of sergeant found them. Costa had brought an old copy of penthouse and flipped through it with his flashlight while Gartagena played a game on his phone. Both would mutter comments back to each other as they tried to pass the time.

“Good lord.” Costa mumbled.

Not looking up Cartagena replied, “Hmmm? Whats that?”

“This bitch has huge nipples. They’re kind of disgusting...but I think they turn me on.” Costa said.

“Huh.” Cartagena said amused, “Oh fuck me. One got through. God damn it!”

Cartagena turned off his phone in frustration at losing his game. He stretched and took his PASGT helmet off to scratch the back of his head. He shifted in his seat and turned to face the outside. He leaned against the sandbags and looked into the darkness, “Little fucks always get me at that part.”

“Maybe you shouldn't suck so much then.” Costa said turning his page.

“Whatever maybe I should just…” Cartagena stopped.

Costa asked, “Maybe you should what? Stop being so gay?”

“Shhhhhh! Turn that light off for a second, I hear something coming.” Cartagena said.

“What your boyfriend?” Costa joked.

“I’m serious, shut up.” Cartagena said.

Costa switched off the light and joined his comrade looking out at the path. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but he heard the sound as well. A clip clop coming up the road from the Pampa. Costa racked the handle on the M60 that was on a tripod in the little bunker. Cartagena checked for his M16A1. Costa called out a challenge in Spanish, “Who’s there? Announce yourself or be shot!”

“General Lord Hotspur!” The reply came through the darkness in perfect Spanish, a language well-known to those familiar with its brother tongue, Espicutan. “From Fort Castermaine. I’ve been sent to speak to your commander. I am alone and can leave my arms behind.” The calls continued in a steady, emotionless tone and Hotspur edged his horse forward to be seen more clearly by the sentries. “I am from the Free Army of New Columbia, the so-called ‘rebels’...” He clarified, finally.

Costa looked at his friend confused, “General Lord? What?”

“Well he is someone from New Columbia he said. Hang on I’ll call Corporal Torres, he’ll know what to do.” Cartagena said.

He went to the phone and called Torres, who was acting as corporal of the guard, “Corporal Torres? Some guy on a horse who said he is a general just rode up and wants to talk with Captain Graciani. Uh huh...ok, I’ll tell him.”

“He said he needs to check with Lieutenant Montes first because he is the Officer of the Day, but that we can go out and search this dude.” Cartagena said.

“Alright you go out and I’ll stay on the gun and cover you.” Costa said.

Cartagena got up and slung his rifle around his back. He muttered at Costa, “Lazy prick.”

Cartagena went out to the stranger, “Could you please get off your horse sir? I need to check you before you can come through the gates.”

“Yes,” the respectful reply came as Lord Hotspur was already clambering down from his hardy mare, “Of course. Do what you must.” He reached for his leather holster steadily and removed it from his belt. “I shall leave my arms on the ground for now.” He explained, placing the holster down in front of him and unhooking the scabbard of his sword to be placed next to it. Unfamiliar with the situation, he wondered if he was being too cautious but, he supposed, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Cartagena gave him a quick pat down then picked up his sword and pistol, “If you’ll follow me sir.”

He led Hotspur through the gate and then directed him to the bunker, “Please wait in the guard shack while the Captain comes. You can tie up your horse here.”

Cartagena moved Costas porno magazine for Hotspur to have a place to sit. The three waited in the bunker for an awkward fifteen minutes, neither one of the privates wanting to say anything to the stranger for fear of getting yelled at later. Finally Captain Juan Graciani came out to the bunker with Lieutenant Montes and Corporal Torres in tow. The privates jumped to attention and the captain told them to sit down.

Graciani held out his hand to Hotspur, “Captain Juan Sebastian Graciani sir. What can I do for you?”

“Alexander Hotspur,” the reply came and Hotspur shook the Captain’s hand softly, “Marquess of Caercardenbury.” The lord spoke in a crisp, clear voice and had a scarily perfect grip of the Hispanic language. “I have been sent as an envoy from Fort Castermaine,” he explained respectfully, “My commander, who leads the Free Army of New Columbia, invites the commander of this post and, with due respect, perhaps a slightly more superior officer - one that might be in a more official position to negotiate.”

Graciani was confused and looked at Lieutenant Montes with hate for getting him out of bed for this. He composed himself and then looked back at Hotspur, “Well sir, I appreciate the invitation, but I am the commanding officer at this outpost. No one here ranks higher. Anyways I had no knowledge that our government was seeking out negotiations with, uh, the…Free Army of New Columbia. What is it that your people are wanting anyways?”

“They have yet to approach us directly but they have supplied arms and ammunition to the Hakemaebo Tribe, a tribe centered not far from here which is aligned to us.” Hotspur explained, understanding Graciani’s confusion, “We are, as they say, the rebels. Though it was never truly a rebellion. We would like to treat with San Carlo, to see if your country wishes to support us in our fight against the Dominion as they have supported the Hakemaebo. I realise that this is a poor way of going about things but, as we are not a recognised government, we have little choice but to approach you like this.” He straightened out his jerkin, “I do hope you understand.”

Graciani yawned and scratched his back. He noticed that the rear of his shirt was untucked so he fixed that. He faded back into listening to the self proclaimed general that was wandering in the night and said, “I mean I don’t see why the army would want to support you. What benefit would it bring us? You don’t even bring an offer, it just kind of seems like you expect us to throw arms at anyone who shows up at an outpost.”

“When the government forces come north, they’ll push up to their self-proclaimed border and push your people out. Your ranchers and surveyors and, if you have ‘em set up by then, your prospectors will be expelled or worse. San Carlo will lose what I assume to be not insignificant investments in the region.” Hotspur saw that he was quickly losing the Captain and explained his point steadily. “When they find out that you’ve sent arms to the Hakemaebo, the Dominion government will never deal with you again, the huge opportunity posed by the oil fields in the south will be closed off to San Carloan business for the next several decades. However, we have a clear opportunity to come to an accord, with San Carlo’s support, we can win this conflict and install a new government which would be very much favourable to your nation. I’m certain that we would be in a position to relinquish all claim on the pampas and Ayacan business would be smiled upon, at the expense of Edomite investment. Not to mention, it’d give the middle finger to Regensburg…” Hotspur smiled, though he knew no specifics, he was aware that there had been some form of embarrassment involving the two countries.

“So what you are telling me, and let me try to understand this, is that the New Columbians plan to attack San Carlo and take its sovereign territory. That the Army of San Carlo is not enough to defend its territory and will be swept aside and lose, but if we give our weapons to a smaller, less trained, less organized, ‘rebel’ but ‘not rebel’ force that is currently lacking in foreign support and supply sources, that then our lands and people will be safe. Is that what you are telling me?” Graciani asked blandly.

“No.” Alexander was swiftly coming to dislike the abrasive Graciani. “That’s not what I am telling you at all, in fact, it appears you haven’t understood in the slightest. I’m sure that San Carlo can hold its borders, although I know little of your nation’s military potential. I’m saying that, by giving weapons to the Hakemaebo tribe of Te’vol’Hake, San Carlo has made itself unsuitable for any kind of dealings for the New Columbian government, or indeed any future government for the next twenty years at least. The oil in the south will go to Vionna-Frankenlischian companies or, even worse for all of us, Edomite ones. The only way you will get your hands on even a sliver of New Columbia’s oil potential is if there is a regime change. You could just invade, of course, you could probably get as far as New Richmond before you hit any real resistance, but that’d bring you into conflict with Vionna-Frankenlisch and the Commonwealth which, forgive me, is a war I doubt San Carlo can afford. If the Free Army is supported, we can overthrow this Dominion government and reform the nation, form a new government which is sympathetic to San Carlo and Ayaca. That is the proposal I ask you to entertain, not mere insults and petty assumptions.” Hotspur was energetic, this was a cause he had devoted his life since his exile to, though he made sure to hide his true excitement. He imbued his proposal with just enough fire to animate the possibilities while taking care to not seem fanatical. After all, Ayacan support could make or break the war effort for the Free Army and their native supporters.

“Ah so we cannot protect ourselves from foreign powers such as Vionna-Frankenlisch, but if you take power of the colony you can do it for us. Well you have also arrived on many assumptions, the first being that my government intends to trade with that spec of ill managed land for oil, when it has had its needs met already for decades to come. You show up to my post, with no credentials in the middle of the night, dressed like something out of a storybook and proceed to tell me the capabilities and desires of my own nation. My nation also has strong trade ties with New Edom, though world affairs clearly must not be a strong suit of your people or else you would have flown into the capital and had a meeting with the Foreign Minister. Assuming you are who you say you are. This is getting ridiculous, I have a mind to throw you into the stockade while I decide what to do with you.” Graciani said, now pissed at the foolish arrogance of this vagabond.

Lord Hotspur was red-faced and he could not tell whether it was from anger or embarrassment, he was not much of a diplomat if he couldn’t at least get a referral out of this officer. He resented Graciani but was also annoyed at himself for his poor form. “Look, I apologise, Captain,” Alexander swallowed his pride and admitted, “It’s damnably late and you’ve got no proof that I am who I say I am… Here.” He produced a battered passport in a weathered leather holder, the picture was old but recognisable and his name was given as Alexander Hotspur, born in 1987 (though the other DOB details were unclear), a Vionna-Frankenlischian citizen and male. He pulled another document, this one a yellowish-brown sheet of A4 sized strong parchment paper. It was held in a folding leather case and was his Deed of Nobility, written out and signed by King Edward III when Hotspur ascended to his Marquessiate. “My old passport, admittedly outdated, and my Deed of Nobility.” Alexander presented, “It’s late and I’m sure everyone is tired so perhaps it would be possible to simply pass me up the chain to your government, the Foreign Ministry, one would assume.”

Graciani scratched his chin. He could not deny this request. What if someone found out he had booted this guy? It could be his ass. He sighed and looked at the papers, “Very well sir. I shall make the proper arrangements. Please follow me, I shall have quarters prepared for you. I will make the call in the morning if that is alright.”

Graciani turned to the corporal of the guard, “Help the general with his things.”

The captain led Lord Hotspur into the base. They walked along the concrete walkway passed barracks and the artillery pits where 105mm howitzers sat under their covers. They went to a building where officers were housed. The warm light through the door was most welcome after the darkness of the outpost and Graciani showed Hotspur to a small room with a desk and a single bed that was vacant, “This will be yours for now sir. The lieutenant will make sure that fresh betting is brought, and that you get a mosquito net and a fan. The bathroom is at the end of the hall, and in the morning just grab one of the enlisted attendants that will be out in the hall and tell him what you want for breakfast. I’m sorry it isn’t a hotel, but it is what we have. Have a good night, sir, and I’ll work on your travel in the morning.”

Hotspur surveyed the room with a smile, it was not much different to his humble quarters back in Fort Castermaine. He nodded at Graciani gratefully, “Thank you, Captain, you’ve been far too kind.” He reddened a little as he apologised, luckily poorly visible under his rapidly thickening stubble, “I can only apologise for my poor form.” And it was poor form, he told the doubts in his mind, to debate such things with a mere Captain - especially when he had no proof of identity.

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
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Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Sun Jul 21, 2019 6:42 pm

Monton, Kingdom of Vionna
Montrose Castle


With a final euphoric groan, William Lindegard finished and rolled off of his lover. The younger man panted and watched Lindegard as he tiredly moved across the bedchamber to retrieve his dressing gown, embroidered with the arms of his house, and settle down into his soft, high-backed armchair. Lord Lindegard stretched his arms out and smiled at the blonde figure on his bed as it turned over onto its back.

“Can I stay?” The young man asked.

“‘Fraid not, lad.” Lindegard replied, filling his pipe with tobacco, “The Countess is coming back today, wouldn’t want to distract her. You know what she’s like…”

His partner grinned and nodded, though he had little idea what the Earl was referring to, he rarely saw the Countess. He licked his drying lips and pulled the ruffled covers up to his pale chest.

“A drink?” Lindegard offered, though he waited not for an answer. There came a distant ringing as he pulled a cord which rang a bell in the servant’s hall. The wait was short, a curt knock at the door and the entrance of an unsurprised maid.

“You rang, my Lord?” The buxom, redheaded servant asked, though Lindegard was already kissing her hands. “The Countess will be back at three,” she saw fit to add.

“A bottle of champagne.” Lindegard ordered with a wink, “and three glasses.”

“What do you think everyone else thinks of us, sir?” The boyish, naked courtier asked Lord Lindegard once the door was closed. “In Cornellia, that is.”

Lindegard seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Well…” He smiled and replied, “I should think they find us the most disgusting degenerates.” He admittedly bluntly. “Perhaps they are right, I don’t know… We have fun though, don’t we?”

“Oh yes...” A seductive grin shot back.

“Well there we go, what does it matter what they think. Besides, it’s tradition.” Lindegard set his filled pipe down on a stand, ready for later. “Thank you, Catherine.” He said as the maid returned and set the glasses and bottle down on a table to Lord Lindegard’s left. “Stay, have a glass.” He insisted.

“My lord, I’ve got work to do…” Catherine, the maid, replied with a hint of apology.

Lindegard was already pouring out the priceless Gallandian champagne and replied, “Nonesense, I’ll make your excuses.” He thrust a glass into her hand and she sighed, sitting on the four-poster bed and begining to undress.

The courtier nodded in thanks as Lindegard delivered him a brimming glass and the Earl settled back down with his own glass. “To having fun?” He proposed.

“Having fun.” The responses came, one masculine and seductive, the other grumbling with a hint of anticipation.


Government Quarter, New Adeleux
Ministry of Energy


"The meeting ought to be set up with Mr. Caleb Ahitophel, the Foreign Trade Director for NPC. The agenda would concern potential contracts for extraction, refinement and distribution."

Morgannon was nodding as he noted the name and agenda down in a leather-bound notebook. He took a slow, disinterested drag on his cigarette and discarded the remainder in his ashtray. He smiled as Baruch mentioned the other industries that might benefit from the development, not sure whether or not to be insulted by the implication that he might not be aware of the opportunities or glad that things seemed to be nearly over. He remained nodding slowly as Baruch spoke and cleared his throat indignantly at the mention of the OAS.

“I am curious about what you know about the temperature of the political waters, though. I mean you are a practical man or you wouldn’t be sitting in this office. You know how things are done and you know how to get them done. But elected or appointed higher persons politically are another matter, whether in my own country or yours. What do you expect the minister’s political leanings on this issue might be? Will contracting out oil development be…” he seemed to think a moment. “A vote winner for her?”

"My Minister has, of course, the political implications of decisions to consider as well as the practical implications. She is a member of the Federal Party, a right-winger luckily though moderate on the social scale. In fairness, she has been in office for only a matter of weeks and she hasn't shown much skill or incompetence yet. I think the people will be glad when the oil is finally being cultivated and, though they would prefer a domestic or Vionna-Frankenlischian company, they will surely be glad for anything so long as it isn't San Carloan." Morgannon decided to make that his final word on the matter. He smiled and made his excuses, "I apologise, Mister Baruch, but I am running a little late for a most urgent appointment," lunch, "I hope you can forgive me." He rose to his feet and held his hand out amicably, "I will speak to my Minister at the closest opportunity about what we have discussed, please direct any further queries or requests to me."


Monton, Kingdom of Vionna
Montrose Castle


The sudden burst of daylight dragged Lord William Lindegard, blinking, from his slumber. He was naked and still shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. To one side lay a blond-haired male courtier, to the other side, Lady Eliza Lindegard’s redheaded maid. The Countess of Monton stood at the foot of her bed as her husband raised his head steadily.

“Eliza?” He blurted in confusion.

“For fuck sake, Will…” Lady Lindegard muttered, overlooking the scene, noting the bulge in the sheets below her husband’s torso. “We all like to have fun but both of them? Is Jaremy even a homosexual?” She supposed it was obvious but had never paid much attention to him.

“Yes.” William replied, without shame, glancing towards Jaremy Tellon, the courtier he had taken a recent liking to.

Eliza sighed and nodded. “Alright, let’s get you cleared up. There’s a helicopter waiting for you outside.”

“A helicopter?” Lord Monton asked, even more confused. Helicopters were few and far between in Vionna, reserved mainly for the news companies and the military, though the government had a few for quick transport. “What time is it?”

“Ten past three. Dress well, you’re going to Horse Guards then to the Nobles.” Eliza wasn’t usually so annoyed by her husband’s antics but something about stumbling upon the scene had put her in a bad mood. “Dress and sash, I should think.” She flashed a white-toothed grin, knowing how much her husband hated pulling on all his finery. “Teeth and tits, dear,” she mimicked a phrase her husband often used mockingly, “It sounds important.

Lord Monton was already cursing and putting on underwear. Jaremy, the courtier, muttered something and turned in his sleep while Catherine awoke with a yawn and blushed as she realised what was happening. “Good morning, Catherine, dear.” Eliza greeted her maid, “At least it was morning three hours ago. Help his lordship with dressing and I’ll go and make your excuses to Landon.” Landon, the butler, was no doubt fuming at the absence of Catherine.

William looked at his wife with a scowl but remained marvelling at her beauty. The Countess of Monton was the eldest daughter of Prince Frederick von Babbenberg, the Prince of Wolfswood, and it showed in her tall, elegant disposition. This was a creature designed for noble life. She managed her household with a kind yet controlling hand and the staff liked her. Lord Monton was incredibly chuffed with his soft-skinned, majestic-looking wife and had to be snapped out of her trance by Catherine, covering his muscular torso with a cotton shirt.

And so it was that Lord William Lindegard, the Earl of Monton, clambered into a government helicopter half an hour late and dressed in his scruffy dress uniform and an orange sash, denoting his Earldom. His unfed stomach grumbled as the helicopter lifted off of the open grass before the moat of Montrose Castle and headed in the direction of Donaldia. Lord Monton sighed, this was going to be a long day...
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Sun Jul 21, 2019 6:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


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The Shrailleeni Empire
Minister
 
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Founded: Oct 06, 2011
Mother Knows Best State

Postby The Shrailleeni Empire » Mon Jul 22, 2019 2:11 pm

Shrailleeni Consulate, New Adeleux
New Columbia


Imperial Oil and Power was the Shrailleeni national company in charge of both power production and oil extraction within the Enlightened Matriarchy. Since joining FODE it had worked in conjunction with the New Edomite NPC to explore and develop Shrailleen's petroleum supply, particularly in the ashland region of northeast Fromathra. As wealth from oil sales began to flow into the empire, it had also begin independent production of a large offshore oil deposit located in the Tempesta. An ambitious expansion project was projected to only increase oil production in the next ten years, and refineries along the northern coast of Home Island were now producing fuel of several types and quantities.

IOP had heard the same rumors as the NPC about the situation in New Columbia, but had been beaten to the punch. As a state-run industry, the Director of the IOP required government approval before making a move into a new country, and New Columbia was held in a mixture of low suspicion and apathy by the Shrailleeni government. However, the board had received an interesting report from a certain source within the Matriarchy of Foreign Affairs that had spurred them to greater action.

And so entered Consul-General Sataryn Rennec. It was part of her job to support Shrailleeni business interests in New Columbia, but until now there hadn't really been any of great significance outside of some work for the tourist industry. But the IOP had called her and been quite insistent that she help them approach the government of the Dominion with an offer for the sale of fuel.

Sataryn had been aware of the military expedition to the north, she read the local papers after all. She had even heard, from some source or another, that there might be oil in the north as well. But she had dismissed this as rumor, and felt that the adventures of the New Columbian military were no concern of the Shrailleeni. IOP begged to differ. They hadn't made any mention of oil resources, but they believed that if there were fuel problems then there was opportunity for sales. And they seemed to think that the New Edomite NPC was probably already there.

All of this was a major pain for Sataryn. Unable to convince them to simply drop the matter and threatened with action higher up on the foreign service ladder, she took to her task with the utmost reluctance.

First she wrote to the Shrailleeni ambassador in Frankenlisch, her superior. She tried to downplay the problem as much as she could, hoping that he would say that her hands were tied and that the Imperial government had no interest in helping the New Columbians. Unfortunately, he did not say that. Instead he not only gave her the go-ahead, but affixed his signature to her message to the Dominion.

Now, her only hope was that the Dominion would be utterly uninterested in any kind of deal for fuel.

To: Governor-General Richard Laurenstowe
From: Consul-General Sataryn Rennec
Subject: Imperial Oil and Petroleum Offer


Greetings to Your Excellency, on behalf of Ambassador Dallen Seyriva and Her Enlightened Majesty the Mother Empress Chella Resyanna fe Shrailleen. I hope that this message finds you well and in excellent health.

I am writing to you today with the support of the embassy in Frankenlisch. I have been approached by representatives from the Imperial Oil and Power company. They would like to arrange a meeting with your government regarding the possibility of negotiating for the sale of fuel to the Dominion military. There exists the belief that such an offer would be of great assistance to your current campaign in the north. The Imperial government has already given permission for such a contract to IOP, and hopes to initiate a new era of cooperation between the Enlightened Matriarchy and the Dominion.

I await your response, and may the Light of the Mother smile upon you and the people of New Columbia,

Consul-General Sataryn Rennec
With the authority of Ambassador Dallen Seyriva
On behalf of Her Enlightened Majesty the Mother Empress Chella Resyanna fe Shrailleen


Flores, San Carlo

Once they had sat down and gotten comfortable, Zel turned to business. They both knew why they were here after all, and he had become quite good at playing the part of the somewhat desperate, out-of-luck salesman.

"Well, you know we haven't had much luck with sales here lately," he began with a certain anxious understatement. "Well you didn't hear this from me, but my boss at MEM just got word that there might be a lucrative opportunity across the border."

He looked around nervously and leaned in a little. "Apparently, that Vionna-Frankenlisch colony is having trouble with their Indys in the north. Big expedition failed. Well someone high up, and I mean imperial high up, thinks those people might be in need of supplies. That includes food."

He leaned back.

"But it turns out I'm the only one close enough to explore the option. There's some kind of Indy town near the border, in the mountains, and they've given me the up-front resources to try to find out. A lot of up-front resources. For things like, by example, transportation."

He tapped his thigh, and there was a crinkle of thick paper.

"They're serious about this, this could make my entire career. I have two thousand here, and if this commission goes through you know I won't forget the man who made it all possible either."
أدرس اللغة العربية وهي لغة جميلة
Mother of One, Mother of All
Ask Me Anything IC
Come to the Mother's Embrace
New Edom wrote:Elizabeth Salt remarked, "It's amazing, isn't it, you rarely see modern troops that wear their 19th century uniforms and gear so well--they must drill all the time. Is this a guards outfit?"

Sif said to her, "This is a modern Shrailleeni Empire military parade. Like as in this is what they wear, this is what they use. This is it."

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