
DEMAIO, FEDERAL DISTRICT
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Two years prior to current events: the Killian government is weakening as the country becomes more-and-more dependent
on the generosity of its faithful ally, the Golden Throne. Its own resources stretched thin as they already are, the Golden Throne turns
to private military contractors to fill Hailandkill's defense needs.
"You must understand, commander," said President Arthur Belschamp, "the Killian people do not take the subordination of their national defense to the Golden Throne, and much less the empire's private contractors, lightly. This is a difficult decision that I make out of necessity, but do not mistake it for willingness. When the country has been restored to its former prosperity, this little agreement of ours will be reversed and the people of Hailandkill will take back what is theirs. And what is theirs is a right to self-determination, liberty, and the responsibility of self-defense."
Imperial commander, Vicstrategos Arn ver Darg, nodded politely. He had more patience than the typical Macabéan, perhaps due to the fact that he hailed from Beda Fromm, a city distance from the cultural centers of the Golden Throne — Macabea and Fedala. He replied, "To be sure, Mr. President, when your government feels strong enough to reduce the number of contractors in the country, it will count on the full support of His Imperial Majesty."
Belschamp snorted. "Do not mistake me for a fool, General Ver Darg. This is not the 'good old days,' as we style them. President Revello, your stalwart ally, is no longer with us, God bless his soul, and the Golden Throne he rescued from the depths of catastrophe is no longer the same empire. Your emperor has outgrown his early days, when he was just a babe taking his first stumbling steps. Now, he stumbles no longer and he has embroiled himself in a quagmire being fought more than forty thousand kilometers away, while the rest of his army is tied down fighting wars against the very people he claims to have liberated from tyranny and poverty. The threads of the world are no longer woven in the same pattern as they were when Fedor was young and Revello our president. I see that and am prepared for the change that is to come."
"Well," replied Ver Darg, avoiding controversy, "until then, the independence and sovereignty of Hailandkill is guaranteed by the graciousness of His Imperial Majesty."
"Guaranteed?" asked Belschamp, who chuckled lightly. "I envy your resolution, commander. You truly believe that you control Valo'Kap. You think they follow your orders out of a sense of loyalty and duty to empire. You forget Ver Darg, the soldiers you've invited into my country are mercenaries. They are loyal to no one but the mighty ríokmark."
Ver Darg traced an invisible line on the arm of the leather chair he sat in, thinking about what the Killian president's words. There was a truth to them that he could not ignore. A mission that had started out at six hundred thousand contractors, all deployed to the border with the ever-dangerous Ordenite Reich, had doubled to over one million. These numbers were only expected to grow, as Ver Darg's request for additional imperial military personnel deployed to Hailandkill was denied by a high command which had fewer and fewer troops to risk on overseas expeditions.
But, Vicstrategos Ver Darg would not show his concern publicly. Still smiling, he answered, "Valo'Kap knows its place. Their loyalty against the Ordenites is unquestionable."
"Against the Ordenites," repeated the Killian president. He sighed, then said, "We are all loyal against the murderous Fourth Reich. But, what if their war isn't only with the Ordenites?"
REGINALD RANCH, STATE OF LINCOLN
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One year prior to current events: The Belschamp administration, its leverage undermined by an increasingly hollow public army,
succumbs to pressure and resigns. The Killian army, under the leadership of Field Marshal Garrett M. Lunsford, launches an abortive coup
which is destined to change the country of Hailandkill forever.
Field Marshal Garret M. Lunsford's massive body looked too small for the room. Bleak and minimalist, the walls were barren and undecorated, with only a few maps hanging here and there. There were a large desk and some chairs but, otherwise, the field marshal's study looked unimportant and as if it were rarely used. It was just as he liked it.
Lunsford was a man of the field and that was the impression he had always wanted to give, ever since his days as a cadet at the academy. He was in the mud with the men, at the front with the fighters, and always in the thick of the action. His rise to command had come courtesy of his actions during the War of Golden Succession. He had commanded a battalion at the battles of Mons Dei, taking part in the Killian offensive that marked the second engagement. By the end of the war, he was commanding a division and had fought in Ruska and northern Safehaven, taking part in the famed tank battle of Isme-Dagan. His bravery, intelligence, and leadership were rewarded with command of a mechanized infantry corps back home and after the war. Overall command of the Killian army was in his destiny and he had fulfilled it.
What irked the field marshal the most was that the pinnacle of his personal success came at the nadir of Killian power, and the state of the army he had inherited from his predecessor could be described as nothing short of disastrous. While armed with the best weaponry the Golden Throne had on the market, the army had shrunk in size from a wartime strength of fourteen million soldiers to a low of one million two hundred thousand ten years later. To supplement this decline, the government brought in contractors. Why hire mercenaries, when the Killian army could be restored to its former glory? This situation could not be tolerated for long.
Thus, Lunsford's Coup. That was how it was to be forever named in the history books.
Reginald Ranch, a small city in the northern part of the state of Lincoln, served as the headquarters of the Killian armed forces for a number of reasons. First, it sat close to the national capital of DeMaio. Second, it was close enough to the Ordenite border to give it direct access to the battlefield in case of a war with the Reich, but far enough to not be immediately at risk of being overrun in case the Killian frontline could not withstand the initial blitzkrieg. Third, it sat on the major highway that connected DeMaio to the major port city, and commercial hub, of Julian. Julian mattered to the extent it was a major center of commerce, but also because of the presence of the largest Macabéan military complex in the country, comprised of Kríerstatón Ger'Jenel and Barbakán Hunek. There were just over one million imperial personnel stationed in Hunek and Ger'Jenel, and through the city of Julian ran the major artery of imperial resupply. It was natural for the Killian armed forces, for so long attached to and dependent of their Macabéan allies, to organize their domestic bases along this route.
It was from this headquarters that an armored column sped north to DeMaio one early morning late autumn day. Detected far too late for anyone to react, let alone be warned, the column under Lunsford's personal command enter the capital less than three hours after departure. There was no resistance. Storming the congress building and the presidential palace, President Arthur Belschamp was first arrested and then silently executed. His death was reported that very evening.
Happening so quickly, neither the Golden Throne, no Valo'Kap, nor the Ordenites had time enough to respond to it.
A military man to his core, Lunsford ruled now from Reginald Ranch. Smugly, he looked at himself in the mirror. There was another man in the room with him, Major General Arnold Yeoman. General Yeomen had served with Field Marshal Lunsford for the past seven years of his career, riding the commander's coattails to the very top. The most trusted man in his inner circle, Yeoman was privy to all of Lunsford's plans, thoughts, and desires.
It came to a surprise to all that it was Major General Yeoman who took the wire between his two fists, raised his arms over the field marshal's head, and then came down to hold the dictator's head against his chest. Pressing the wire tightly against Lunsford's neck, Yeoman did not let go until the field marshal let out his very last breath and then, suddenly, went limp.
The short reign of Generalissimo Garret Lunsford ended barely eight days after it had begun.
DEMAIO, FEDERAL DISTRICT
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Eleven months prior to current events: A new administration is organized under the auspices of President Jackson Hamilton,
who is accused of being little more than a puppet to the interests of Valo'Kap Consortium. The mercenary cartel acts increasingly independently,
persuading Hamilton to push and ultimately sign a bill that limits the presence of Macabéan soldiers on Killian soil.
"Congratulations on your win, Mr. Hamilton," said Gregor Kol, a gentleman dressed in a fine black suit, black tie, and white button-up shirt. "Your presidency will surely mark a return to normalcy in the Republic."
The newly elected Killian president eyed Kol warily, but otherwise answered respectfully, "With the aid and support of Valo'Kap Consortium, I am sure it will."
"Indeed," nodded Kol. "Speaking of which, now that you are president it is time to talk business. There are a couple of matters that I am especially interested in finalizing today if you would so indulge me. As you are well aware, the first concerns the direct interests of Valo'Kap. The second regards the presence of imperial soldiers in your country."
"Sir," replied the Killian, "you know that the Golden Throne is the most valued ally the Republic has."
"You would agree that the Golden Throne of the present is not the Golden Throne of the past, would you not?" asked the Macabéan. "Furthermore, would it be too forward of me to say that your present fortunes rely more on the opinion of Valo'Kap and its shareholders than on the empire and its emperor? It is the truth, is it not?"
Hamilton laughed, but it was not a laugh of merriment. "The irony of our days is that the truth is, in fact, too forward, Mr. Kol. And I say that with all due respect and in complete awareness of my dependence on your good gracious. We Killians have fallen upon sad days, with our country is at the mercy of a gang of mercenaries and its president a puppet of the very forces he was put in charge of protecting against. But, what am I to do but accept the options I am given and choose the one that is in the best interest of people, even if it is hardly in their interests at all."
"So?" inquired the Macabéan. "What will you do these coming days?"
"I will do what we've already discussed," answered the Killian president. "The bill is already with key senators and, with Lunsford's thorough sacking of the previous congress, it is guaranteed to pass. I will sign it into law and that very day the Golden Throne will receive our request to reduce their military commitment to Hailandkill by half. Simultaneously, the Senate will pass a bill authorizing a tripling of the military budget allocated toward Valo'Kap's services, requesting the deployment of another two million contractors and reorganizing the country's armed forces under the authority of Valo'Kap's Chief Command. I will have signed away the sovereignty of the Killian people to a cartel of private military contractors and chased away the only allies who have committed themselves entirely to our independence. Tell me, Mr. Kol, do you think I will be remembered as a good president?"
A grin grew across the Macabéan's face. "You will be remembered as whatever Valo'Kap wishes you to be remembered as, Mr. President. Remember that."
MOGINOE, STATE OF SOUTH LOMEC
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Present day: Valo'Kap, empowered and bolstered by additional troops, begins to deploy in strength to the Killian border
with the Ordenite Reich. With the core of the Killian Home Army, as it is now called, little more than six hundred thousand men total, deployed
to the north along the Cochlean border, there are over two million contractors in the south.
Gregor Kol was pleased with himself and the shareholders were pleased with him. Hamilton's presidency was proving to be stable enough. The threat of the Killian army had been removed with its subordination to Valo'Kap and the Golden Throne had taken the order to reduce its garrison in the country by half with grace. The contractor cartel, which had moved its headquarters from Tarn to DeMaio, turning the former into a satellite location, now held all the power in Hailandkill. There was not a single organization and institution capable of wrestling this control away from it, not without a fight. And Valo'Kap had positioned itself well for a coming war.
War was surely coming. All knew it.
The Imbrinumians had declared the intention to station millions of its soldiers in the minute imperial satrapy of Pezlevko-Rubino, faraway on the island with Krasnova. The Ordenites were no fools and saw it for what it was, a military build-up that intended to jettison the Reich from the soil for which it had fought three bloody wars.
Hailandkill, a long time ally of the Golden Throne, was not the same self it had been a year ago, but the history that tied it to the Golden Throne was too strong for the Ordenites to ignore. The southern border was surely going to turn into a warzone in the coming months. This time, the Ejermacht would not be well-positioned to counter this new thrust. The war in Hailandkill would not go the way of that in Holy Panooly, because this was the continent of Hugen and on the continent of Hugen it was the Ordenite Reich which sat as the dominant power.
Kol's task over the past ten months was to organize the army groups under his commander, composed entirely of Valo'Kap troops coming from the combined strength of the five companies which made the substance of the consortium. Over two million and four hundred thousand combat troops were organized into eight army groups with a nominal strength of around three hundred thousand each.
He set his personal headquarters in Moginoe, a city just north of the Ordenite border. Here, the front was held by Army Group XX, which extended from just west of Moginoe to the Sea of Crowns in the east. Directly to the south of the city there was a salient that was surrounded by Ordenite territory on three sides. Almost right in the middle sat the town of Dresnech of ancient origins. It had been conquered and re-conquered by sides immemorial throughout its history, but now it was held by the Killians and it was occupied by two full-strength divisions or a total of thirty-six thousand men.
Kol liked Moginoe because it was a major logistics hub, a city of significant national importance and because the drive to the border was neither long nor arduous. In fact, he traveled to it almost every day. He enjoyed observing the Ordenite build-up on the other side of the frontier. It was ominous, the mobilization on both sides and the tension throughout the region that was threatening to boil and spill over into total war, but it was also exciting.
Gregor Kol had joined Valo'Kap because he believed he had a destiny. Denied, for years, of promotion within the ranks of the Ejermacht, he found his path to success with Valo'Kap. He had known for years that his calling was to lead armies and conquer nations. He had an army now. And there was a nation to the south hated by most in Greater Díenstad and ripe for conquest.