Tensions in Lyceni

[Aldar Kose]

As the sun rises in the land of ALDAR KOSE the leader of this great nation debate with his advisors on what to do. Recently the entire country has been engulfed with the ideology of religious extremism all along the the Nation these groups have been growing in popularity. The leader (Pablo Bohuslav) has declared that religious extremism will not be tolerated within his Nation. Within the coming years a new law will be formed banning all religious extremist groups as he declared this many politicians fear that democracy would soon die within the nation every single one fearing a possibility of the nation going back into turmoil. One of the leaders of these religious extremism groups was listening nearby coming back to his headquarters within the mountains. the leader of the A.S.U (Mahdi Sayf ad-Din) makes preparation for this new law.

[Upper Magica]

CANTO V - THE BEGINNING

The Spirit of the Sun Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor and wretched.

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners, and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free.

No longer are we slaves to the tyranny of the Damnable Night, says He -

The time of the Sun is at hand.

-Magican Cathar Bible - the Prophecy of Altais, Book 4 Verse 18

---

[REDACTED], ISLE DE DIEU PREFECTURE

For days, the City from which he had escaped had been under martial law. Or was it hours?

General de Nouvelle-Locronan did not know. Really, he couldn't notice a difference - the mob was out in full force, bathing any soldiers dumb - or brave - enough to intercede in the chaos currently taking place in the waters of life, as Magicans called it: the juices of rotten veg, or even various forms of excreta, human or otherwise.

All he knew - was that the capitol city of the Empire, its very soul, had become as divided as the Empire itself seemingly overnight. A series of unfortunate events, he mused: spiralling into the chaos that now dominated the Empire.

The radio-nets and the former unified network of the Imperial Armed Forces were swamped, simply put. Confused and scattered, units inquired as to their orders. None, of course, received any, including his own command. In real time, he bore witness to the disintegration of many other units, as well as the command structure of the entire Magican Armed Forces itself.

Hell, at this point, he'd seen the unraveling of the entire Empire in an instant.

His thought-process in this dank meeting place, an old nuclear bunker meant for continuity-of-government in the case of a natural disaster, was interrupted by the speaking of the representative from the 'intelligence community' - or what remained of it in the Empire.

Dr. Franzetti coughed, having been beat up rather badly by putschist goons in the first days of the Collapse - he was sure the 50-something archetypical 'geek' had broken a rib or somesuch; that ruled out a long-winded dialogue on his part. Something to be glad about, de Nouvelle-Locronan mused silently.

"I... think this is it, frankly speaking. Unified for only a few years - and now we're back to this. Warlord states and petty kingdoms, seperatists. As it stands, we're--"

"Don't lose hope, Doctor - help might not be coming, but we still have a role to play in this." de Nouvelle-Locronan sighed. He'd been unlucky enough to be nominated Minister of Defense in the short-lived 'Free Magican' government; the troops under the command of the Imperial Magican Army - that still obeyed orders at this point - numbered no less than 5,000: most of them were located here. What a farce, he thought.

A civilian spoke up - the former Minister of Finance. "Who would you have us endorse, General? Side with the putschists? The Republicans?"

He nodded. "Precisely. I don't mince words, gentlemen - and woman - I regret to inform you, albeit you likely realize it by now, that the Empire is dead with our late Emperor. No suitable stock could be drawn from the Nobility, those traitorous cowpatties all - and cooperation with Putschist elements is out of the question."

"Ridiculous!" shouted the old Minister of Foreign Affairs. "Have you seen footage from up North? They're hoisting up guillotines like they're re-enacting the Days of Terror from the Revolution! Millionaires, billionaires, nobles, clergy - without regard to their actual guilt, just bloody presuming it based on their status!"

The Minister of Justice nodded. "To be fair, though, most of the ones that're getting sent necks-first through a pair of hedge shears - we wouldn't be mistaken in presuming them guilty of something treasonous."

de Nouvelle-Locronan sighed. "Our Emperor - rest in peace - wanted for the Empire a democratic system - of justice. I think it reasonable we could forge an alliance with the Republicans, diffuse their most radical tendencies; make something greater out of the movement. In his memory, I say this is the best option. The only alternative is to die here in ignominy, trapped like foxes in a hunt-circle."

Franzetti coughed blood spatter onto a handkerchief, breathing heavily as he did. "I say... we go for it. The General's logic is sound."

"Show of hands then?" a minister-without-portfolio sounded out.

At the end of the day, more hands were raised than people who pointedly kept their arms folded - the decision had been made.

---

The news that the remainder of the Empire's government had aligned behind the Republican movement was shocking to most - after a few hours of closed negotiations, cameras captured the image of presumptive-leader of the Republic, Raoul d'Castlemere, and 'Minister-Paramount' pro tempore and Chief of the Imperial Ground Forces, Mikael Chevalier de Nouvelle-Locronan shaking hands.

An agreement had been concluded - meaning political and moral legitimacy - or rather what little of it remained in this post-Imperial hellscape - now rested in the hands of this united front. It mattered little in the short term: warlords still vied for the scraps of a dead Empire, while civilians suffered, food shortage and banditry wreaking their toll on the population.

But in the long term, such as it was, this political - almost unholy - alliance would pay off dividends: every day that passed was one that saw more volunteers take up arms in the service of the Republican Armed Forces, another military unit defecting to the Republican side, their equipment intact, another plane of the former Imperial Air Force that landed at a Republican air field. The Navy still remained neutral, its commanders dead-set on protecting the Archipelago no matter what arose out of the ashes after this civil struggle, but more and more sailors began to openly display symbols of Magican republicanism, such as the Phrygian cap and the tricolor, while reactionist-leaning sailors began to find their way into the diets of Magican bullsharks and carrion birds.

Like dominoes, the Magican people rejected the warlords quibbling over the decayed body of Empire, seeing their former Imperial government embrace the Republic. It was as a switch had gone off: taxes stopped being paid to petit-warlords, workers quietly quit reporting to the job site, and troops disappeared from their posts underneath illegitimate authorities. Phrygian caps hung quietly in windowsills, while at protests and rallies, the number of which bloomed like mushrooms, the bellowing cry of "Long live the Republic!" began to be heard all over the Archipelago like a thunderstorm.

And, like a trumpet held by one of the Four Horsemen, the anthem of the First Magican Republic - whose time was thought to have come and gone during the Crisis of the 19th Century - blared.

The Anchorhead Republic was now no more. In its place was now something more... substantial. Something greater.

---

Official Communique from the MAGICAN REPUBLIC
Written on this day the 11TH of THERMIDOR by the Consulate of the Republic

Recipient: OPEN FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION
Classification Level:
1 - Open Communique/Non-Classified


FREEDOM - EQUALITY - BROTHERHOOD: NO GODS, NO MASTERS!

---

The darkest of days has passed. Reactionism is now on the retreat, and the people are with us.

Our cause secure by the efforts of the Communes, of the remaining legitimate authorities not beholden to divisionist or reactionary interests, we are resolved that:

The MAGICAN REPUBLIC is now the sole legitimate authority in the Magican Archipelago and all other territories formerly claimed or controlled by the MAGICAN EMPIRE.

All other entities claiming to be the sole legitimate authority of such, or a part of such, shall be destroyed without mercy and their leaders, beneficiaries, et. al, prosecuted to the fullest extent of law.

All international entities currently or in the future that have recognized any authority but the MAGICAN REPUBLIC as the sole legal successor to the MAGICAN EMPIRE shall be regarded as unfriendly and all normal diplomatic and trade relations severed at once.

All diplomatic relations with the FED. REP. OF VICHNAYA, that great despotate to the frozen North, that black hole of authoritarianism, who seek to make slaves of the Lycene region, are ended in perpetuity until such a time as the light of liberty touches even a square inch of its lands, and its agents are ordered to leave the country immediately. We exhort its citizens to follow the Magican example: throw off the shackles of your defunct, incompetent techno-fetishist government and find out what it means to live truly in freedom and peace.

All treaties, debts, and alliances entered into during the era of the MAGICAN EMPIRE are hereby declared null and void, to be renegotiated at the pleasure of the Republic's elected representatives and by the executive Committee of Public Safety.

Going forward, we look to re-establishing a prosperous relationship with our neighbors - on equal terms - in order to fulfill our great nation's manifest destiny: the elimination of the twin scourges of international authoritarianism and international inequality.

We salute the brave freedom fighters of Riomler, who find themselves beset upon now on two fronts: against the vile war criminal that now reigns over Rovoria like his personal playground, and against the ethno-nationalist scum of the northerlands of Buhers - in your struggle against reactionist insanity, we support you wholeheartedly.

We send further salutations to the oppressed peoples of Keltland, Astovka, and Usti-Lobnanska: most people across the region have forgotten that your proud histories are under attack by Vichnayan ultra-reactionary assimilationism, aimed at folding you into a greater whole, guided into conformity with Vichnayan state identity by the false idols of their stars and so-called saints, watched at all times by legions of state sycophants. And in the case of Keltland, especially, people have turned a blind eye to all-encompassing state tyranny, an abomination to most free-thinking peoples, aimed squarely at destroying, through a kind of hyper-collectivism that should make Orwell spin in his grave, the very thing that makes Humanity what it is: the sense of self.

And, lastly, we send salutations to the oppressed peoples of Traldonia: the Harrisopians and Alexiandrans, in typical late-stage capitalist fervor to exploit and exterminate, continue to hold as their own half of your rightful country. Indeed, these governments - behind closed doors, no less - have authorized bombings of Traldonia itself in a last ditch effort to terrorize you into submission. Now, more than ever, you must remain steadfast, united for victory over the oppressor.

We have not forgotten your struggles. We see the fight ahead of us: from our very streets, from Rovoria, to the heart of darkness itself in Orlova, to the Astovkan coast, an axis of tyranny emerges, and it is fallen upon us to do, in revolutionary fervor, what it takes to roll this abominable tide of reactionary politics and of petty tyrants back where it belongs: the dustbin of history.

---

AQUIS INT'L AIRPORT, AQUIS

'Do you hear the people sing?', cried the lead of this impromptu protest, screaming the first verse of the Republican anthem.

The foul general and supposed 'military governor' Francois de Fonseca was retreating in the face of the people's anger. His - assumedly - personal plane was taxi-ing onto the runway with him and his pitiful family of leeches and his sycophants - and it was no doubt bought with ill-gained money, perhaps even stolen outright - the difference was trivial. An emblem of a golden phoenix displayed prominently among red, white, and blue stripes displayed prominently on the tail, perhaps it was the damned fool family's personal crest. It mattered little to them - the crowd wasn't after facts, it was after the putschist traitor, murderer of innocents supposedly held within.

As the small business-jet travelled at slow speed past the angry crowd, the waters of life began to hit the plane - trash bags filled with God-knows-what entered the intake of the jet, and it sputtered out a foul smell of diesel and various unpleasantness. Next came a salvo of Northern cocktails, rags lit, splashing burning gasoline over the fuselage and the wings.

And, like a death howl from a jaguar, the engine sputtered and failed, signalling the impending doom of its inhabitants.

"RUSH IT!" shouted another protestor, clad in a blue-black-blue patterned bandana and improvised armor scavenged, its parts being either homemade or appropriated from the Gendarmerie - or perhaps a fallen putschist soldier. It was hard to tell, judged Henri, clothed lightly, armed with only a leaden pipe.

But he heeded the call, regardless - his armor was courage, his weapon being the hatred of the oppressors inside this wretched construct brought to a standstill.

Gunshots rung out from inside at the protestors through windows - for every bullet that struck true and hit its target, five more rushed the plane, throwing rocks at and beating the windows 'till they shattered.

Henri's nerves frayed, he grabbed a glossy brown bottle with a rag stuffed inside, sloshing with a fuming liquid that stunk, filling his nostrils with the scent of petrol. Grasping his lighter, he set the rag aflame: letting it burn for a few moments to get a good pilot flame going.

"Now!" another yelled, lobbing a cocktail fruitlessly at a broken window - it broke at the rim, falling short of its target. Henri aimed carefully, making his own throw - it struck true, filling the cabin with flame, the shouts of the jet's passengers within being drowned out by the triumphant whooping of the crowd.

"Die!" yelled the crowd - when the hatch of the plane opened, the people within making a desperate scramble at running from their fate on foot. Surrounded by angry Magicans, it wasn't hard to judge what would happen next.

It was too much for Henri, who stood back from the dread scene - he'd seen and been in enough violence for today.

---

IMPERIAL HIGHWAY 96, KINBRIGGAN PREFECTURE

The Biker revved the gas of his crotch-rocket, a MagIC Whirlwind 996, based off of a Vichnayan make, stolen and appropriated by the great juggernaut of Magican industry like so many other types of machinery that the company didn't have the brilliance to invent itself.

Ahead of him and his posse about 10 miles up the highway was, reportedly, a convoy of nobles and other important types booking it for a small airstrip in the middle of nowhere - rather conveniently, ahead of the rumors of the Revolutionary Army's impending arrival from the Kislitsin Island Chain up North, named after the famous House of Kislitsin that'd emigrated from their Adak homeland, invited by Magican Emperor Fernand III to settle down in the previously-uninhabited jungle hellscape of Northern Magica in 1721.

History lesson aside, the Republic's troops were reportedly arriving by way of 'appropriated' barges, speedboats, and yachts, even bloody news choppers - the sea and the sky were clear, thanks to the continued nonpartisanship of the Imperial Navy and the disorganization of the Imperial Air Force.

At any rate, the Biker took a second to tighten his blue-black-blue tricolor armband - the liberators would need to see where volunteers like himself stood lest he be shot, and it wouldn't do if the sole thing identifying him as a comrade flew off at 60 miles an hour.

The lead bike - a portly fellow riding a '67 Tyrant, a classic bike for a classic man, revved his engine, accelerating faster. The Biker followed. Over the horizon of the road, he saw it: a convoy of five black, well polished cars moving at speed... moving towards them, not away.

This was troublesome. Especially when the lead car saw the tricolors they bore as the convoy passed, absolutely gunning it upon sight. "Fuck!" one guy yelled. "Flip a bitch, boys and girls!" the lead biker said to the group of twelve, who began to brandish pistols, anchor chains, and machetes like modern-day cavalrymen. And just as soon, they complied, decelerating, making wide turns in synchronization: it was time for the chase.

Watching the speedometer roll well over 80 miles an hour, The Biker grinned 'neath his skull-shaped face mask - the convoy, even as fast as they were, couldn't match the suped-up raw power of a phalanx of eight heavily modified custom motorcycles of all shapes and sizes, piloted well by people who knew how to use them. He silently wished this was a pleasure cruise - the engine purred beautifully, and the day wasn't harsh.

Breaking the silence of his own mind was the exchange of gunfire between the two groups - it was not enough that they chase another at dangerous and lethal speeds down this abandoned freeway, but the situation demanded they kill another before being killed themselves.

One of the bikers slumped, crashing into a roadside barrier shortly, while another simply exploded into a strange mixture of parts as a tire blew, causing some kind of forward-lurch, turning their vehicle into the equivalent of a immersion blender as it continued to pinwheel along the asphalt. But, in exchange, the lead car of this convoy, after a well placed shot through the drivers' side, took a nosedive into a ravine, while the driver of another vehicle couldn't resist the temptation to try side-swiping the Biker - taking too sharp a turn at too high a speed, the SUV rolled over, crumpling itself up like scrap paper, folding those within it into an unnatural kind of origami.

The lead biker held up a fist, signalling the end of the chase - three cars sped away more or less intact. "We've done our damage, fellas!" he yelled. "We almost had the others, damn fool!" yelled back another biker. "You really think these noble knickerstains don't have a security team?" he retorted. "Lemme know when you've got a rifle and some more bodies with rifles - for now, we'll content ourselves with today's catch."

It was hard to argue with that logic, the Biker thought - things could end badly if we'd pursued further. At any rate, there were two cars' worth of upper-class parasites that would no longer suckle on the lifeblood of the land and of the people; this was worth celebrating.

---

COMMAND POST CENTRAL, ISLE DE DIEU PREFECTURE

The Marshal looked over the attack plan - Aquis had all but descended into revolutionary chaos, and it was necessary to show the plebes who was really in charge. He envisioned tanks running over the mob, armored personnel carriers cutting down swathes of the unfit with the rattle of machine-guns, rockets terrorizing barricaded neighborhoods, prisoners crammed like industrially-farmed chickens into jails.

A glorious vision - and afterward, he would lead the renewed Empire to reconquest over the juntas that divided the resources of the Empire like feuding brothers and sisters over their wealthy sire's estate. And, afterward, The Great Enemy that had reared its head once again, the Republicans: they would be annihilated with maximum force.

The Empire would triumph once more against Northern Communalism - it was only a matter of time.

He pointed sternly at avenues leading into the capitol. "Three armored infantry battalions will lead the charge into the heart of all this nonsense, followed closely by tanks, sir Majors. If anyone attempts to arrest or halt this advance, your team leaders are authorized to put down any insurrectionists by any means necessary." He smiled.

"Yes sir, insurrectionists are the scum of the Earth," one of the majors replied. "They deserve a pig's death."

Nodding knowingly at his peers, another officer strolled up to the Marshal. "Sir, we've a situation report from the front.." he stated simply. A sharp pain followed from the Marshal's side, the impact of a closed fist following. The others joined in, stabbing the Marshal as he reached fruitlessly for a sidearm.

As his vision blurred, fading, he reached out as if to God at the gates of pearls and honey: "Why," he rasped. "have you done this?" he pled to his trusted subordinates tearfully. "We were so close... to greatness."

"We are close to nothing but the hangman and the lynch-mob, you doddering old fool." coughed another, looking down at the Marshal with contempt. "Perhaps you ought to have visited the front recently," he continued: "you might have seen this coming then."

"The Republicans have offered pardons for anyone turning in a war criminal - alive or dead. Indeed, insurrectionists deserve a pig's death!" The officer - no, the traitor, laughed.

Before the Marshal could unleash his righteous fury at this betrayal, darkness of a different sort took him. And, after the fact, his underlings were lauded by the public as heroes delivering justice to a tyrant - taking a stand for true freedom, risking all to save the country. Of course, they risked nothing at any time now or before - this fact was apparent to the Agent that initiated this series of fortunate events.

These traitors, judged the Agent, had merely bought themselves a stay of execution, and would soon die a pig's death with their betrayed master.

[Aldar Kose]

Overnight the nation of Aldar kose had made a mysterious purchase from a black arms dealer
This is what was purchased
T-90MS: 1,019
T-90S: 2,005

ZU-30: 2,000
ZU-23M3: 2,000
2A45M Sprut-B 125mm Anti-Tank Gun: 1,000

152 mm towed Howitzer: 2,000 2A65
Msta-B
122mm towed Howitzer: 2,000 2A18M-5 Mona: 1,000
2S1T Goździk: 1,000

BMD-4M Sinitsa: 1,000
Tracked Tank Destroyers:3,000
2S25M Sprut-SD: 4,000
Kornet-D1: 3,000
Self-Propelled Mortar: 5,000
2S42 Lotus: 3,000
Light Armoured Recovery Vehicle: 5,000
BREM-VDV: 5,000

LSTS-1943 Dodo-2: 5,000
AMN-99800: 4,000
AMN-59: 5,000
AMN-59099: 5,000
AMN-233114 Tigr-M: 5,000
KamAZ-78504M2: 3,000

[Aldar Kose]

as soon as the new law was ratified military buildings within south of the nation began to burn as rioters took to the streets. Within the city of pinar the local religious extremist group managed to take the town hall and military buildings this group is known as A.S.U after they took the town hall they declared that they will March towards the capital of ALDAR KOSE and returned the nation back to its traditional ways the leader of the A.S.U oh so declared that the new Arab Republic will rise and unite the nation. Within the capital of ALDAR KOSE Pablo Bohuslav declared this new Republic nothing more than an revolution declaring to the people that this rebellion will be swiftly crushed.

[Aldar Kose]

[img]]://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/ybephk49kepxgg7yq7nmr/Screenshot_20230730-110950-2.png?rlkey=d46zihl44ld5riyxkh5awkccs&dl=0[/img]

[Aldar Kose]

Due to the fact that the rebels have managed to take some key provinces the Democratic Republic of ALDAR KOSE ask for the help of Vichnaya and therefore allow their troops to March towards their

[Riomler]

Danark,riomler


The battle against buhers was a constant standstill until now when 4.9 million men were being shifted from the former Rovaria battlefields to push the progress of the attack,and this would work as the army would use 200 drones to knock out many important enemy positions and communications towers,acquiring land reaching close to the buherian capital until the buherians pushed them back a few miles and the war is back to a standstill,though this will raise the morale of the military.








Message to the republic of magica :
From the imperial state of riomler:

“Hello,we welcome the fact you have brought unity to the country of magica,as such,we wish to reopen diplomatic relations and hopefully become allies in the future,and would like to engage in trade deals which can be discussed at a later date

[Aldar Kose]

As of now the civil war between ALDAR KOSE army and the A.S.U rebels has been a very slow grinding standstill although some land was taken not much has changed when it comes to war lines.although as of now a different insurgence has swept the nation by storm a terrorist organization supported by the A.S.U. the A.T.T.U managed to take some parts of Western and Northern ALDAR with the Western terrorist immediately falling to the ALDAR military. They also have Outpost barracks's and small villages all around the nation although they're being quickly dealt with by the military although they are taking territory near the capitol.

[Aldar Kose]

As of now the the A.S.U has managed to do a great push-up North stopping at the mountains to make defensive positions although this did cost a lot of human lives including the lives of many of their allies.

A.S.U allied aircraft casualties: 135

A.S.U allied Tanks casualties: 20

A.S.U allied troops casualties: 172,000

Nuclear casualties: 1,932

C.R.P casualties: 7,152

A.K.D.M Troops casualties: 6

A.K.Y.J Troops casualties: 25

ALDAR KOSE Troops casualties: 79,645

A.S.U Troops casualties: 130,861

A.T.T.U forces casualties: 168,204

Civilian casualties: 1,724,174


Total casualties: 2,284,154

A nuclear backpack has exploded in the A.S.U City of Bastille casualties number in the thousands also known as the first nuclear casualties investigation has turned on what happened but the civil war still rages on.

[Aldar Kose]

After a long debate with his advisors the council and the people the green light to allow the special forces the A.K.D.M(ALDAR KOSE Dead man) and A.K.Y.J(ALDAR KOSE yellow jackets) to enter the civil war. They have also decided to allow the extermination of all A.T.T.U village Champs Barrack and fortresses.They also allow the use of raid parties formed by civilian forces upon any fortresses and barracks that are captured by A.S.U and A.T.T.U forces.

[Aldar Kose]

As the brutal civil war rages on in ALDAR many people has sprung up from small villages to big cities to spread the word of peace as of now this peaceful movement to end the war has gained traction once a total of 1,000 people now has risen to 378,000 Total members with more on the rise their leader tifl al'amal spoke to those willing to help this March in a speech that he made

as our soldiers continue to fight more and more of our people are killed every day let me ask you this is this the sacrifice we want in the world have we not seen enough brutality let us unite under Aldar of Salam and bring back peace into our nation

as of now they're right now heading to the Capitol to speak to Pablo Bohuslav to negotiate with these rebels.

[Aldar Kose]

civil war map

Due to the ASU getting more supplies than needed they managed to retake most of the North

[Harrisopia]

International Waters
HNS Interception
Sergeant Ryan Cresswell

Most people would pay good money for a tour of the world. Sergeant Ryan Cresswell was always happy to boast that he got paid to do it.

Ventures out from home waters had become a regular occurrence in recent months after all the troubling events that had come to pass.
Some would call it paranoia, others would call it poking the bear, Ryan was happy to call it a paid holiday.

"Sunny skies, fresh air, what more can a guy want?" Ryan said to himself.

"A few more zeroes added to his bank balance and an adventurous blonde to entertain him when he gets back home." A voice replied.

Ryan smirked and turned to the voice.
Nigel Deeney, one of his favourite crew mates was busy scrubbing away as the deck.

"Fair points Deeney." The Sergeant claimed before turning back to the sea.

The peace he felt at that moment was something he would never forget for the rest of his life. Particularly because it didn't last long.

"Sergeant Cresswell, come inside." A worried voice requested "Our radars have detected an unknown vessel a few miles east. Possibly hostile."

Sighing to himself and taking one last look at the sea, Ryan turned and followed.
His holiday had come to an end it would seem.