Independents Cup 1 [Everything Thread]

[Flardania]

Joseph Yabuta
Akihabara|Kirishima

---

It was a bustling night in Akihabara as was the usual. It was not football season in Kirishima so the iconic Aincrad Stadium, home of the Akihabara Electronics O.F.C laid dormant. However given the nature of the city, there was no decrease in activity with many other things for resident to see and do as a tech, culinary, entertainment and fashion capital. It also helps that while the nightlife of Kirishima is among the highest in the world, the nightlife of Akihabara is on a whole different level. From the point of view of a young Kirishinan or a foreign tourist this city is a paradise but for the Electronics, it's a whole other story. The Electronics need to remain good in order to compete with everything else going on in the city. While Akihabara is no fairway city and as a passionate fan base, it takes more than that to sellout every game. Nevertheless with a few days before the Independents cup Yabuta's agent Geum Joo Hwan wanted to meet and speak business.

Joseph pulled up in front of the classy restaurant and whistled softly. Jo did not go out to extravagant restaurants often despite his current wealth so such a place was a marvel to him. Giving his keys to the valet boy was also a different experience for him. While street side parking was practically non existing, Jo did not drive often preferring taking the train. It was a good way to keep in touch with regular people and an easy way for him to flirt with beautiful women that would never give him the time of day before. Sure they were probably gold-diggers but he wasn't looking for love from them. However considering how well dressed he was for the evening a crowded public train wasn't the best way to get around.

As Jo walked in an older gentleman perhaps of French decent was there to greet him but Jo quickly noticed a quick look of contempt. A look of you don't belong here that Yabuta shrugged off. He was well dressed, enjoying life, and Kirishinan society was on his side not on the other gentleman's.

"Sir you need a reservation to eat here." The old gentleman stated without asking for a name but before Jo could say anything Joo-Hwan appeared.

"He's with me." Joo-Hwan stated calmly with a small barely noticeable drop of venom before escorting Yabuta to his table. "Your late, I told you an hour ago to get here even earlier." Joo-Hwan finally stated cooly after greeting his client.

"That wasn't enough time for me to change what I was doing anyways we can have this discussion anytime right?" Jo asked.

"Perhaps but your going off to play in the IAC in two days you leave tomorrow and I convinced some lovely ladies to dine with us tonight." Joo-Hwan replied with a wide grin. "But first business before pleasure." Joo-Hwan added as he recited a Kirishinan expression.

"All right what is it?" Jo asked curiously.

"You like it here in Akihabara right?" Joo-Hwan asked.

"I mean yeah Kairaku was great but Akihabara has been great, the vibe, atmosphere, the women. Which believe me back when we went to school together...I never thought I would care or be in such a position." Jo replied.

"Jo we're bros, we might as well be blood. I know you we're never as good with women as I was-"

"That's an understatement." Yabuta interrupted.

"Nevertheless your essentially golden now but I digress. I am thinking about your brand....I figured your comfortable in Akihabara but the KPL...I think your to big for it now."

"It's not like playing internationally guarantees success. Like look at Pandazi he is doing well in San Llera but there league is not much better than ours and then look at Ako and Sayo in the Sunrise Islands. Ako's team Jauneport is essentially mediocore at best and with Sayo, the Matthew Mets have been a disappointment look what happened now. She's on the bench and Guidice is now starting....oh before you ask yes, she's cute." Jo stated.

"And she's from Yamatai." Joo-Hwan interjected.

"Not genetically though anyways focus." Jo responded.

"Ah yes right...where were we.....right you have a point there. That means we need a stronger KPL."

"And how our we going to influence that?" Jo asked

"Well you and the national team need to have an impressive run in this tournament and make the World Cup. That should keep the FDA relevant. Stage two Ana Carolina needs to go, she has slumped. Next transfer market we need a huge signing to join Nishidake-san in midfield or you on the attack." Joo-Hwan replied

"And how does that help?" Jo asked.

"Think about it, it will create another power vacuum forcing teams to invest more in themselves in order to compete allowing them to pay big money for players. However once again for this to work you folks are going to need to provide some strong international play. It will raise all of your values and your staying in the KPL after that should help raise the profile."

"Alright sounds good." Jo responded.

"Well right on time our dates have arrived." Joo-Hwan stated as he playfully jabbed at his client. "To your continued success." Joo-Hwan added as he raised his glass and a great evening was underway.

[Bonesea]

.

[Bonesea]

Matchday 1

Group A
Veldgouwen 0–0 Averyickan City @ The Boldpark, Spittalsea
Bonesea 3–1 United States of Devonta @ St. Leah’s, Spittalsea

Group B
Savalen 6–2 Equatorial Zeldaen @ Stadion Vikinki, Spýta
Cossakastal 1–2 Garifunya @ 31-Park, Kirkevic

Group C
Prusy Krolewskie 4–1 Nordernius @ Bonfire Hill, Leix
Abanhfleft 0–1 Kaboomlandia @ St. Tara Field, Hill o’ Tara

Group D
Amazonesta 2–0 Juvencus @ Ness Cabin, Skibereen
Flardania 5–2 Space @ St. Accrobán Lane, Skibereen

Group E
Drawkland 0–4 Schottia @ The Gun Wharf, Tane, Portsea
Greater Vakolicci Haven 0–4 Revolutionary Nordskania @ Kunnallinen, Räystäspääsky, Suumna

Group F
Kalumba 2–2 Mercedini @ Den Brygge, Hammershavn, St. Bernadine
Barunia 3–0 Hicaña @ Stadion Taxhavn, Effersøe, St. Bernadine

[Revolutionary Nordskania]

Indigo Wave

Chapter Two: Thin Gold Line

The first engagement between Pridnestrovia and the Northern Army happened south of Sopova, when the former finally attacked the latter in the form of an offensive push towards their large camp outside the southeastern edge of the city, in the farmlands. In a way, it showed that the war was about to grow hot, scorchingly hot even. This war was becoming more than just an airstrike campaign, and both sides realized that as the Northerners found themselves under attack from range as the socialists set up in the hills to the south and fired on the camp with armored units. Of course, the Northern Army was firing back with artillery, and snipers.

“Dusan, Dima, get to your tank! It's time to blow those sons of bitches right off of that hill,” ordered Captain Vadim Ivanovich, the leader of their section. “Get everything ready and get to the edge of camp by the barricades. If they're going to shoot at us like this, you can bet we're going to fire back with everything we have. Try to hit their armor and see if we've got the kind of range to take them out.”

“The tank’s already prepped, sir. We were just waiting for the word,” said Dusan, grinning and strapping on his helmet and taking his gloves from his belt and putting them on. “It might be hard hitting them from this range, but all it takes is one HE round to make them go boom. We’ll do our best to make some fireworks for you all to watch.”

“We’ll suppress them and keep them from blowing up the camp, at the least,” Dima added. “Though I suspect Dusan is right. One good hit and those piece of shit ancient model tanks are going to blow. If we had air support, I'd say they're in for a strafing run, but I suppose we don't have that luxury just yet.”

The two moved to their tank and Dusan climbed into the position of driver while Dima took up the spot as gunner. It was already loaded up and ready to quickly move into combat, and they only took a few minutes going through their systems checks. “Everything looks right on my end,” stated Dima. “The new infrared sensors look like they'll be useful, too. Oh, and the computers on this Imperial model are better for aiming. Remind me to send the Emperor a card thanking him for the new equipment…”

“Looks like everything on my end is working, too. Let's roll,” replied Dusan, flexing his hands and placing them on the controls. He eased forward out of the dirt lot that the armor was being stored on, and accelerated onto the camp’s main gravel road, the new tank handling smoothly, almost like it was gliding through the air instead of traveling on the ground. The sound of the engine filled the camp, and there were a few cheers from their fellow soldiers as the armor unit rolled past and made the air behind it smell like the diesel fuel that powered it. This was the first time the Northern Army was using Imperial produced equipment, and it seemed to be going well so far.

“If the gun handles as well as the chassis, I’m going to be a very happy man,” said Dima, swinging the turret around to test it out. He then settled it back on the sight of the enemy, staring at them through a zoomed in optic and watching them hide in the trees. “They attacked us thinking we were like the Soviets… That we didn't have the power to fight back. Let's see how they react when they're getting bombarded from range, like they were doing to us. I bet they'll scramble as soon as we get one hit.”

“I hope not. I'd rather smash em for good in one battle,” Dusan said and there was silence inside the metal body of the vehicle until they pulled up behind the barricade that they were set to use for protection. The barricade was there to give cover to their infantry and to protect them from charges, but it also provided decent cover for armored units but allowed them to still use their main gun. “Don't take too long on the first shot. I want us to have the advantage of striking first and surprising them.”

“Right,” nodded Dima, positioning the turret towards the hills and raising the gun high enough to reach the enemy armor in the hills. There were two tanks and a number of soldiers around them, mostly snipers and riflemen set to protect them. “Those idiots camped out so low to get a better shot… They didn't realize they'd be making themselves sitting ducks. Or fish in a barrel. Whatever analogy you want to use. I'm gonna hit em with something to make some fireworks.”

Dusan turned from the controls, as Dima pressed the button to fire the main gun. There was a bang, and there was smoke in front of the tank, and when the smoke cleared, the closest Pridnestrovian tank was up in flames. Fire blasted from every single gap or opening that the tank had, before dying down and then rising up again in the wreckage. The explosion itself had hit a number of soldiers that were hanging too close to the tank, and it had caught everyone by surprise. “That's what I'm talking about!” screamed Dusan, watching through the optics. “You'd think they would learn by now, underestimating the north always ends badly!”

“We’re not done,” Dima said calmly, swinging the turret over and pointing the gun at the other tank, which was now attempting to rush them. He was quite dexterous, and he moved his gloved hands to the other set of controls and pressed the button to reload. The problem for the rival tank was that getting through the trees was hard, and Dima had his aim right before they were in range to shoot. He fired for a second time, and for a second time, the air was filled with smoke and fire. It was a second direct hit, this time to the turret instead of the body. The high explosive round did a lot of damage, burning up the inside of the vehicle quickly and then setting fire to the wreckage. But because of lack of oxygen inside, the fire burned out quite quickly and left a scorched wreck. “Now we’re done-”

“Unless Vadim wants us to chase those riflemen down,” said Dusan, shifting focus to the squads that had been next to the tanks, which were holding their position on the hill. “We could get closer and use the machine gun now that there's no armor support for them. It's a risk because someone could be packing AT weaponry, but… We don't want them to come back.”

Dusan asked for instructions over radio, and Vadim replied quickly. “They didn't bring AT rockets because they didn't know we had tanks. Those were hidden by the rest of the large barn next to the lot. Go ahead and do what you think is necessary, and finish them off if you can. Don't cross past the hill, though. That field is where Anglatia wants to set up their men, when they get here. Speaking of which-”

“What?” asked Dusan, after Vadim cut himself off abruptly. There was silence for a moment or two, and then the officer spoke again.

“Scratch that. Stay where you are. They're here. Or at least, their planes are. They're set to make a strafing run on the socialists on the hill before moving on to the airfield in Masloka, where they'll base their jets during the campaign,” Vadim ordered. Both drivers looked confused, and Dusan opened up the top hatch and let some light into the dark insides of the tank. He then pulled himself up and looked out, checking the sky. He could hear the familiar sound of approaching jets, and when he turned around, his jaw dropped when he saw a formation of four low flying planes zooming towards them. The jets passed them over and continued towards the hill, and then the fireworks happened.

Each of the four jets fired off an explosive payload before passing the hill, and the result was the loudest series of bangs that Dusan had heard in a long, long time. The bangs registered first, but then there were the explosions that sent dirt everywhere and once again filled the area with flames. It all happened way too fast for it all to be registerable, and when it was over, there were still plenty of little fires burning and bodies flung all over the place. The planes continued at the same speed, and Dusan watched them leave before ducking back inside the tank and taking a deep breath. “Well, that was a nice way to welcome us to the front,” he stated, referring to how this was their first engagement in the new war. “You said you fought in Kurovo, so I'm sure this is no big deal to you, but that… I can only say that what just happened was crazy. Insane, even. I never realized that war was so fast. The videos don't show you how fast things change.”

“That's why they tell soldiers to live fast,” Dima shrugged, amused at Dusan’s flusteredness. “You've gotta keep your focus, or you'll end up like them. Look at what some poor recon cost them. One moment, they were on the offensive, the next, we countered them with something they couldn't handle and they're dead. In war, the one who loses focus is the one to die first. Trust me on that one… It happens fast, but it's all about the little things.”

“It's all about the little things, eh? So war is like relationships. I guess that's why they say all is fair in love and war,” Dusan muttered, before turning the tank around. “Looks like I'm going to have an interesting story to tell my grandkids about someday. I can tell them about the time when granddad drove a tank into an airstrike and watched the socialists get sent into full retreat… Again.”

“Let's make it out alive first,” Dima laughed, moving from his gunner’s seat and loosening his helmet strap. He was smiling and looked content, but in the back of his head he was a bit worried. Worried that the escalation of the early conflict would become too much, and that they'd be overwhelmed before their Imperial friends could save them. It was, after all, unusual for battles like this to happen so soon after a declaration of war. Would escalation in the region tear their nation apart? There was a great chance of that, and Dima wasn't sure that the Imperial planes were enough to keep that from happening. But he put those thoughts to rest, because like he said, those who died in war were the ones who let their focus slip for too long.

=====

The reinforcement of Sopova was falling on the shoulders of the Imperial Third Army’s First Division, which was previously stationed in Saint Rainier and the other big cities in Patierre with the goal of crushing anyone who had the idea of rebelling against the new colonial rule. The Third Army was often involved in expeditionary missions, and now, they were facing a hard challenge as the First Division migrated from their previous assignment and into their new one near the mountains, where they would fight alongside the forces of Darya Zharkov. However, the initial setting up would be the job of a smaller subset of units, the Fourth Company of the First Battalion of the Second Regiment. They were the ones landing first, and their infantry would be the ones to secure the defensive line to the south of the city to make sure that the area was ready for their allies.

“We’re landing in under ten minutes. Be ready,” said Captain Riley Stokes, the leader of the company and a veteran of the Patierre campaign. He was something of a career soldier, who was still in the military at the age of twenty five because there weren't many better options for him. “We’re meeting up with the Imperial Special Forces operators that are already on the ground, as well as the Blue Army’s Second Corps. However, I've been informed that we should be on the watch for attack as soon as we land, whether it be from Soviet artillery or Pridnestrovian infantry.”

“So I assume the maps have changed? I thought the Soviets were pushing with armor and infantry, and Pridnestrovia was hitting us with cruise missiles at every chance,” said Valen Bystrom, one of the Sergeants under the command of Captain Stokes. “The briefing showed them surrounding the area and making an advance with armor. They're using artillery now?”

“The situation has changed dramatically since the briefing. The Soviet Republic has pushed east in the direction of Ryakova, while the army of Pridnestrovia has made their landing in the area south of Sopova that was formerly occupied by the Soviets. The latter is dropping back to avoid conflict with the former and focus on resisting the Northern Army and establishing their control,” explained Riley, speaking over the noise of the engines of the VTOL transport. “I've already informed the other officers, but since we're the first ones down, we should be extra alert. Be on the ready to fight, and have your weapons prepped. They might attempt to jump us as soon as we get to the ground.”

“Aye, it’s better to get this over with now, anyway,” Valen stated. “If they're going to attack, I would rather not wait around and stay up at night waiting for it to happen. Let them come… We’ll break them and send them right back to where they're coming from. Or we’ll push them south and let them be the Soviets problem.”

“What happened to the plan to come here to train and reinforce the Blue Army? Now we have to fight for them, too?” complained Jane Grubisic, the top support gunner of Valen’s platoon. “I didn't fucking sign up for this. They said we'd be training the Northern forces, not fighting on the literal first line of combat-”

“You're not excited to fight for your homeland?” asked another soldier, Sven Briggs. He was referring to her ancestry, and how her entire family was from Turbayov. It was something that she never talked about, but everyone still expected her to be the most enthusiastic one about fighting here.

“I've seen enough fighting in my homeland. That's why my family came over to Ross,” snapped Jane, in no mood to talk about her childhood. “I didn't join thinking I would have to go back home and fight under the blue banner…”

“Then you picked the wrong profession. Did you expect to join the Army and never fight?” asked Sven. “It was inevitable, especially with the instability to the west of the capital. There's no way you'd not end up fighting after joining the Third Army.”

“I wanted to go to Patierre to fight the traitors. Not back home… There's too many bad memories here,” replied Jane, and with that, everyone stayed silent and waited for the transport to get closer. Jane would also be the one to break the silence. “You're right. I'm a soldier, I should be willing to fight. But I have a terrible feeling about this, like this is the kind of op that you go into and never return. Especially now that we’re fighting and not just reinforcing.”

The soldiers felt the transport descending into the field, and Sven stood up and unstrapped his rifle from his back. “What range are the socialists camped out at? Are we coming out guns blazing or what? Or are we hanging back and heading to the base without making contact? Hopefully they won't expect us to run while they shoot at us, without firing back.”

Riley stood up also, waiting for the familiar feeling of landing. “They’re set up a ways away, but we’ll still have to get ready for an engagement… Safeties off, everyone. We’ve reached the gates of hell, and the locals are pissed about it.”

[Mercedini]

Independents' Cup MD1: Kalumba vs. Mercedini LIVE
@ Den Brygge - St. Bernadine, Taxhavn

Hello and Welcome one and all to Taxhavn, Mercedini's home-base and the place where they kick of their campaign for the Independents' Cup hosted by Bonesea with a little help from The Boreal Islands. Mercedini have been drawn in sixth and final group with Hicana, World Cup dream-enders Barunia as well as today's opponents Kalmuba. We have already talked about the team that Mercedini will be fielding so let's focus on the match in hand. Mercedini play what could be a dangerous unknown for the team as they play a Kalumban team who crept under the radar to qualify for the Cup of Harmony. The top-3 in the group could potentially qualify for the knockout rounds so it's very important for Mercedini to start their campaign off with a win to all but seal their place in the knockout rounds with only the first match played. They will have plenty of chances in the future including their final group match against Barunia, but without further ado, let's get the match started!

---

0' - The stadium is packed for the opening match of this competition, neither of these nations have played each other in a competitive match before so it could be said that the opening minutes will be used to suss out the opposition early. Mercedini has the talent as it's disposal while Kalumba have the element of surprise up their sleeves, so it will be interesting to see how the match pans out. Mercedini will be kicking us off in their signature blue and black kits, while Kalumba wait patiently in their rather striking green and blue kits. Billic has passed the ball to Chillotov and we're underway with the start of the Independents' Cup!

2' - (KAL 0-0 MRC) - The opening couple of minutes of this game has been slow but methodical for both teams. No chances to speak of just yet but both managers are plotting something on the touchline. Mercedini has had the lion's chare of possession in the opening two minutes or so but they haven't been able to convert that into a clear cut chance just yet. 0-0 as it stands, although there is still plenty of time just yet.

11' - (KAL 0-0 MRC) - Eleven minutes in and the Kalumban fans are already starting to get a bit wild in the stands. They must be on the Blue WKDs as they jump up and down singing whatever comes out of their drunken mouths. I can't work out if they're drunk, stupid or just mentally retarded. Anyway, only one chance worth on not since our last report, a Peterson Watusi shot was blasted high and wide which got some jeers from both sets of fans. It remains goalless

20' - (KAL 0-0 MRC) - It's staring to heat up in the Den Brygge Stadium, and not only because the Kalumban fans have let off a couple of flares. It's end to end stuff as the goalkeepers rule the day against the strikers. Hosset with the first real save he has had to make in the game, another shot from Watusi in the edge of the box stung the palms of the Mercedinian goalkeeper before the ball was cleared by the defence. At the other end, star-man Billic let out a fierce drive from just inside the box, the ball took a deflection and Ulusu Mtanda managed to scoop the ball onto the post and away for a corner. Tight stuff, still goalless.

26' - (KAL 0-0 MRC) - Chance for KALUMBA!!! GOAL!!! The potential surprise package of the tournament has took the lead against Mercedini and it's only taken 26 minutes for them to do so. The Kalumban fans are going wild in their part of the stadium while the Mercedinian contingency is silenced. It came from a long ball from Peter Kurtz which found Jameson Slutei on the far side. The early low from Slutei bamboozled the Mercedinian defence, the ball found it's way to Piet Von Kruger whose first touch took the ball away from Hosset and he simply tapped the ball into the net for the first goal. It's a cheap goal for Mercedini to concede, there could be a shock on the cards. 1-0 Kalumba!

28' - (KAL 1-0 MRC) - GOAL!!! It's an instant reply from Mercedini who have levelled the score line just a minute and a half after Kalumba put the ball in the net. The chance came from kick-off with Billic passing to Crasic, his long ball up field found Chillotov who muscled his way past Kaneu Daima in the defence before his first time shot rifled into the top corner of the goal to equalise the game. I didn't see that coming! It's now one-all!

35' - (KAL 1-1 MRC) - The fans and the players have come alive all of a sudden, the match is hotting up by the second with shot after shot and chance after chance going in at both sides of the pitch, none of them are turning themselves into goals but I guess it only takes one spark to light up a match. Ten minutes plus stoppage time until the end of the first half. Still 1-1.

44' - (KAL 1-1 MRC) - A big big chance for Kalumba to put themselves in the driving seat but the chance went begging. A terrifically weighted through ball found it's way through to Von Kruger, he tried to curl it round Hosset but the Mercedinian goalkeeper was equal to it and parried the ball away. We're entering the final couple of minutes in the first half and we're still tied up.

45+3' - (KAL 1-1 MRC) - So, there we go. After a frantic half it's honours even at the Den Brygge Stadium in Taxhavn. Von Kruger's goal was cancelled out by a Chillotov thunderbolt and that was followed by frantic end-to-end stuff. I don't know how we didn't see more goals in this game but as the teams enter the tunnel it's Kalumba 1, Mercedini 1.

HALF TIME
Kalumba 1 - 1 Mercedini
von Kruger 26' | Chillotov 28'

The teams have emerged from the tunnel for the beginning of the second half. Both managers seem content at the moment although I believe some choice words were said in both dressing rooms during the interval. The half time buffet has been great, plenty of fish and plenty of fish with a side of fish. I don't think there needs to be much imagination of what the national cuisine is like. Anyway, Kalumba will be kicking us off for the second half, let's see if Mercedini can pick up from where they belong.

50' - (KAL 1-1 MRC) - Five minutes into the first half and Mercedini are already taking the match by the scruff of the neck here in Taxhavn. Billic and Chillotov are combining once again and we all know what happens when those two come together. A nice piece of trickery from Chillotov opened the pitch up for Billic and his rasping shot was parried away by Mtanda. Mercedini are knocking at the door but they'll probably need a bulldozer to et past the Kalumban defence. Still 1-1.

58' - (KAL 1-1 MRC) - GOAL!! Mercedini have the lead for the first time in this game and it's who else but Sam Billic. He is proving to people why Myrmidon paid 15,000,000 NS$ for him after his breakaway goal puts his nation on the front foot. The goal started from a Kalumban corner which was cleared long towards the former-MAF man. He dribbled and dribbled and beat the only Kalumban defender which had stayed back before charging towards the goal and lofting the ball over the goalie to edge his team into the lead. 2-1 Mercedini!

62' - (KAL 1-2 MRC) - Tactics are beginning to come into play in this match, Bjarnasson has ordered his players to sit further back in order to preserve their lead while the Kalumban manager has responded by placing another attacker on the pitch which should counter balance the defensive nature of Mercedini. It's gonna be a tight end to this match, hold onto your hats folks, expect a lot of bombardment in the coming minutes!

69' - (KAL 1-2 MRC) - Kalumba are having all the space but they aren't finding the space they need to give themselves a chance at goal. The pitch is smaller than what is experienced at the Sports City Stadium so this should benefit the defenders in the situation. We have about twenty minutes plus added time for Mercedini to survive this onslaught. It's gonna be close!

78' - (KAL 1-2 MRC) - Oh and we have a goal! Mercedini's defence has finally given way as they concede the equaliser to Kalumba with about ten or so minutes left in the match. It's Peterson Watusi with the headed goal from a corner. The corner came in Peter Kurtz who has been more than active in this game. Watusi had a good connection with the ball, he headed it into the ground and it beat the goalkeeper and Aznelik on the post, they could've done better but there is still plenty of time in this match. It's 2-2, great for the neutrals!

87' - (KAL 2-2 MRC) - Time is running out for Mercedini to snatch the win here in Taxhavn. Bjarnasson has gone from parking the bus to all-out attack as Chillotov and Billic try desperately to gab a third in what little time they have left. The have about 5 minutes left in the match, they would be content with a draw but a win would really get the party started. Still 2-2, although the life of this match is dying in this match exponentially.

90+1' - (KAL 2-2 MRC) - The referee blows his whistle to signal the end of the game and it's finished in a draw between the two teams considered to challenge for second place in the group. Mercedini will have to go the long way round if they want to finish in the top two positions. Mercedini will play group-minnows Hicana next and then they play Barunia. A win against Hicana is a must, if they don't win their next game then they might as well go home, but here, it's finished Kalumba 2, Mercedini 2.

FULL TIME
Kalumba 2 - 2 Mercedini
von Kruger 26', Watusi 78' | Chillotov 28', Billic 58'

Now that Mercedini have got their first point on the board, they can remain in Taxhavn as their next match will be in this very stadium. They will play Hicana in a must win against the lowest ranked team in the group. We hope you will be able to join us for that match in a couple of days time, but from the Den Brygge Stadium, we wish you goodnight!!

[Amazonesta]

The Amazononian Observer
Amazonia City's Largest Newspaper


His Majesty Gabriel III, the Archduke of Amazonesta

Corruption Scandal in Amazonesta: Allegations that Archduke Gabriel III a 'puppet' come out of intelligence leaks; protests hit Amazonesta

AMAZONIA CITY- A stunning corruption scandal has hit Amazonia City and has rocked the country, as allegations are forming that it reaches the highest levels of this country's power structure- the monarch himself, Archduke Gabriel III. These have been unearthed by a couple of unauthorized leaks outside of the nation's domestic intelligence agency, called the "Amazonesta Intelligence Network", and have stunned local political observers as well as sparked protests against the Archduke.

Here are a few excerpts from the package.

Code: Select all

To: Your Majesty, Gabriel III

You know what you have to do. You were born a King, but we have always exercised real power in Amazonesta. You cannot resist us. You cannot stop us. You speak of this beautiful country as if there is a such thing as a 'democratic will' and a 'popular mandate', even though you were born a King. It is much easier, of course, if you appoint us as the heads of the regions. We can serve as a check on you and your family. And, as you know, your family has relied on us for generations. Amazonesta is already a country coming apart at the seems.

From: UNKNOWN

Code: Select all

To: Your Majesty, Gabriel III

You know what we should do? Crush the unions. That damned soccer union has given other workers hope! It must be crushed. Carlos Rodriguez orchestrated their strike, and clearly you have become a weak and ineffective leader by allowing that kind of dissent. Do you want us to put your brother in charge? Get your ass in line, and make sure they play! There is only one thing stronger than fear, and that is hope. When we are Mayors, when we are Governors, we'll show you the proper way to rule a land. Don't mess it up Gabe.

From: UNKOWN

These seemingly have to do with the plans of the Archduke to change regional Governors and big city Mayors to appointed positions, by the Archduke, and change them away from elected positions. We do not yet know, of course, whether this also relates to his plan to cut corporate taxes to a small, simple 5% rate.

Sports: Amazonesta wins 1st game of Independents Cup with first half brace from Omar Falcone

SKIBEREEN- Omar Falcone scored in the 38th minute and the 47th minute, a goal right before, and a goal right after halftime, as Amazonesta cruised to a 2-0 victory over much weaker opponent Juvencus to open the Independents Cup. This comes, of course, with the backdrop of political unrest and labor unrest back at home. Manager Orlando Juarez was pleased with the result, but then said that the team cannot rest before their matcup with Flardania, one of the early favorites to win this tournament.

[Prusy Krolewskie]

Prusy Krolewskie beats Nordernius in Independent Cup!

The Reprezentacja Pruski have joined a new football tournament, the Independent Cup, it's for nations not located in Esportiva, Rushmore and Atlantic Oceania, and started off strong with a 4–1 win against Nordernius in Leix, Bonesea. Prusy Krolewskie attacked early, at the 4th minute, when Sascha Welzmüller passed the ball to Sarah Schroffenegger who dribbles and makes a cross to Amelia Zalwowska who shoots and score! 1–0 Zielony i bialy. Prusy Krolewskie attaked again at the 16th minute when Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz passed the ball to Zbigniew Zajaczkowski who kicks the ball right into the goalie's hands. At the 28th minute, Amelia Zalwowska passed the ball to Jean-François Kleineheismann but the defenseman trips him in the penalty area. It's a penalty! Zbigniew Zajaczkowski kicks the ball and it's in! 2–0. At the 39th minute, Player #7 passed to Player #9 who made a header pass to Player #10. Player #10 heads the ball into the net. 2–1 Prusy Krolewskie at the halftime.

At the 55th minute, Sascha Welzmüller passed the ball to Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz who made a header pass to Zbigniew Zajaczkowski who heads the ball over the net. Prusy Krolewskie keeps attacking, and at the 64th minute, Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz dribbles with the ball and makes a cross to Jean-François Kleineheismann. Jean-François Kleineheismann shoots but the goalkeeper tips the ball and it goesout of bounds. it's a corner kick. Sarah Schroffenegger kicks the ball in front of the net but the defenseman heads the ball away. Krzysztof Januszkiewicz intercepts the ball and shoots from 50 meters and the ball is in, it's a goal! 3–1 Reprezentacja Pruski. Nordernius attacked at the 77th minute, but Zofia Kwietniewska made a nice save! Prusy Krolewskie attacked again at the 89th minute when Przemyslaw Zawistowski passed the ball to Sarah Schroffenegger who passed back to Sascha Welzmüller who passed to Yannick Ksiezniakiewicz. Yannick Ksiezniakiewicz subbed in for Jean-François Kleineheismann at the 74th minute. Yannick Ksiezniakiewicz dribbles and passes to Amelia Zalwowska who passed back to Sarah Schroffenegger. Sarah Schroffenegger passed to Amelia Zalwowska who passed to Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz. Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz makes a header pass to Zbigniew Zajaczkowski who heads the ball into the net! The score is now 4–1 Prusy Krolewskie and it's the final score.

With one game played, Prusy Krolewskie is tied with Kaboomlandia in 1st place of group C but our first place won't last because our next game is against Abanhfleft and then we play against Kaboomlandia. The Reprezentacja Pruski will likely finish 3rd but it will be interesting tosee who wins this group. Kaboomlandia beat Abanhfleft 1–0 in their first game so the Phoenix has a good chance of winning it.

BOXSCORE
4th minute: Amelia Zalwowska assisted by Sarah Schroffenegger
28th minute: Zbigniew Zajaczkowski (penalty)
39th minute: Player #10 assisted by Player #9
64th minute: Krzysztof Januszkiewicz (unassisted)
90th minute: Zbigniew Zajaczkowski assisted by Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz

Yellow cards
Prusy Krolewskie: Bartosz Strzyzowski
Nordernius: Player #3, Player #3, Player #5, Player #8

Red Cards
Prusy Krolewskie: None
Nordernius: Player #3 (two yellow cards in the game)

Player #3 will have to miss his next game against Kaboomlandia.

[Schottia]

Ruination

Part Two

La Gorla, Schottia. Present Day.
Gaston Avelione was an alcoholic. It had long gone past the stage where the notion could be brushed to one side, or dismissed. Most adults enjoyed a drink on occasion, but few drank themselves into a stupor seven nights a week. He had always taken solace in the fact that he wasn't sat freezing under a bridge with a bottle of whisky in his hand - but in truth, the location made little difference. Money, fame, success, it was amazing how much these things could make a difference in life; the defence between drinking in an expensive bar or in a churchyard.

There weren't many people in Schottia who considered themselves lucky to wake up in their own bed, but when the alternative was face down in the gutter in their own vomit, it was considered a small mercy. It wasn't a case of feeling bad anymore; an alcoholic never got a hangover. It wasn't even that he was ashamed; his last vestige of self-pride had evaporated years ago. The only reason he considered it a success was because he couldn't be arsed having to shower before training. Standing in the bathtub, trying to scrub the remnants of last nights half digested dinner out of his hair took too long... he had trouble getting to work on time as it was.

However, this morning he hadn't been so lucky - well let's call it a partial success - at least he had made it into his house.

Gaston picked himself up off of the cold flagstone flooring in his kitchen, and dusted himself down. Somewhere in the distance his umpteen alarm clocks were playing out their orchestra of clangs, rings, and beeps. Of course he hadn't left the heating on, of course he bloody well hadn’t. January in La Gorla, the place was like a freezer. He was just wearing a linen shirt and a pair of cream coloured chinos, he was shaking with the cold, but somehow he was still sweating. He propped himself up against the kitchen worktop, the vertical still presenting him with problems. At present he had no idea how long the alarms had been sounding for; it could have been a minute, it could have been thirty. He took a deep breath, pulling himself over towards the sink full of dishes and pulled a glass from the basin of cold dishwater. The cleaner would be round at about eleven, put things back together after his weekend of slovenly chaos. How was it, that in two days, he couldn't manage to wash a single dish?

After downing several glasses of tap water he lurched from one piece of furniture to the next in search of the various alarms. Why he bothered putting one in his bedroom he would never know, it wasn't as if he ever slept there any more. He needed to get himself sorted out, not for him but for his brother. Jago had stuck his neck out in getting him the assistant manager's job at La Gorlions, even if Gaston hadn't wanted it. As kids, Jago had always looked out for him, especially after they had been separated from their mother. Poor kid, he must have only been about five or six himself when they had gone to live with Tante - the old bat that she was - Gaston was maybe just turned three. It was most likely a traumatic experience for both of them, he was too young to remember, and Jago never talked about it. Gaston never pushed his brother, never bothered him. Jago was the strong silent type, a big, bald, pillar of a man who never said anything that wasn't necessary.

Once Gaston managed to focus his eyes a bit better, he realised he still had two hours before he had to be at Danu Parc. That was enough time to settle his stomach, have a small bite to eat and think about driving. He didn't even want to consider the repercussions of being breathalysed - his breath probably had enough alcohol to fuel the fucking car.

Handon. Present day.
'Now fellow time travellers, come with me to the seventeenth century, to a time when the Eastern Ossorian Empire was rife with disease. Where hunger, illness, and death - yes death - were never far from the doorstep. We are currently in Warren Street, one of the poorest parts of what is now Handon.' The tour guide, spoke dramatically in what seemed like a well rehearsed monologue. The actor was experienced; he played his part well, even if it was a little over rehearsed. 'Parts of the city such as this became no-go zones. Everyone within a kilometre's radius were either dead or dying; the only sounds to be heard were the wails of victims in the last excruciating moments of their existence, and the packs of feral dogs, which are said to have roamed the forsaken streets, feasting on the corpses of the dead.' The young man, in steam punk style costume, cupped a hand to his ear, as the effects person played the sound of barking and howling over the speakers.

Everything was carefully choreographed by a series of important cues, which each person involved was expected to remember. It was finely poised, meaning that missing one instruction could bring the whole thing crashing down like a house of cards. The repercussions for the tour, and the potential personal embarrassment for getting it wrong meant that it didn't bear thinking about.

'They used to say,' the young man added, eyes unconvincingly eager, jumping onto a large piece of polystyrene rubble for dramatic effect. 'They used to say that at night, the dead bodies of the people who once lived, here walked the gloomy streets. 'Their half eaten and decaying limbs hanging lifelessly by their sides as they tried to go about their daily lives, unaware that they were even dead.'

Standing round the corner in her set, that was Karen's cue to spring into life, and she got to her feet, and she moved into position ready to give the visitors a fright as they walked past the dusty window.

'Quickly... This way time travellers...' The guide ushered them round the corner, as the sound of wild dogs came nearer. 'Quickly, inside this abandoned house. I'll lead the dog away then meet you back at the time machine. Well... that is if I manage to outrun them.'

Once upon a time, Karen had quite enjoyed the power of giving the visitors that little fright when they first walked into her section. However, any novelty had long worn off - maybe it was a good thing that she was going to get a change of part after all.

A woman, who was with her ten-year-old son, gave a sharp intake of breath as she noticed Karen for the first time. As Elspeth, she always tried to keep a slightly glazed expression, looking through the visitors while she spoke to them.

'Mother? Faither?' Said Karen, smiling at a fixed point just behind the woman's head, causing her to turn in fright. 'Oh we have guests. Please come in, she pointed to a wooden bench which ran the length of the room. 'I don't get many people to talk to these days, I'm not sure where they've all gone. At least the dogs around here are friendly enough, they talk to me sometimes - when they get hungry.'

Karen had often wondered how accurate the tour was. Arrdly would insist that it was one hundred percent, and opposed any suggestion that facts had been embellished. She didn't doubt that it was accurately depicting some unsavoury fairytale, but whether it was historically correct was another matter. She could only guess that facts didn't bring in the visitors.

Karen had said her piece so many times over the last four years that she could actually think about a completely different topic while speaking. Sometimes she even got taken by surprise that her performance was over, because she had been entirely tuned out. She was using the opportunity to think about the football coaching tonight, and what exercises she could have the girls do. It was going to be bitterly cold up at the Academy playing fields, and they were not going to be up for much. How could she blame them, they had been at school today too, they just wanted to be home like she did. She would round things up early if she could, but she knew that the parents would complain - The same parents who hovered like helicopters at the touchline come rain or shine, whose eyes she could feel boring into her, watching her every move. God forbid they didn't get their money's worth.

Well... It was either an evening of freezing her extremities on a frozen pitch, or an evening of drinking wine and reading about Margaret Davis. Right now, Karen couldn't work out what was worse. She was going to need to go back to memorising lines, and she had forgotten how annoying that was; but then again, she had been screaming out for a change. Oh god! What was it her dad had said: Ye'll be luck to make anything oot of acting or fitba... It had probably been sage advice, yet somehow she had ended up doing both, and doing neither of them well.

---

SBCNEWS Online...
Football special - Independents Cup

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Schottia 4-0 Drawkland @ The Gun Wharf, Tane, Portsea
Line-up: McNott, Watt, Doig, Souter, Paul, Ünterhausen (Conjure), McDonald, Coultan, Rudden, Killanen (M.Ünterhausen), Martel-Burns (McCormack)
Goals: Souter, Martel-Burns, Killanen, M.Ünterhausen

After nearly two days of numbingly uncomfortable long haul flights, reading trashy paperbacks purchased in airport shops, and trying to doze off in an aeroplane seat while buzzing on filter coffee - Schottia's boys and girls, somehow, finally arrived on the tiny Island of Portsea. Their first opponents in the inaugural Independents Cup, were the Interstellar Empire of Drawkland, no doubt one of the rising nations of international (or intergalactic for that matter) football. However, this team of seven footers must have already had one eye on next year's Baptism of Fire, as they never really showed up during a match in which Schottia ran out deserved winners.

This was Schottia's first international game since the disappointment of losing the Cup of Harmony to Bonesea in injury time. The fact that it was an incredible contest will have been little consolation to Lionel Mah and his players, who were denied a famous win on home soil.

Schottia seemed to have been able to put this behind them however, as they started strongly against the Kick Corps. Eoin Killanen and Corinne Martel-Burns tested Savannah Everett early on, however, the Jaffro Storm keeper was on her toes on both occasions, to keep match goalless. The Auks kept plugging away though, and they opened the scoring on the half hour mark thanks to a tap-in from Gareth Souter. Larry Watt's corner kick was taken short, with Killanen then drilling the ball low into the box. Sporting Cenial defender, Souter, found himself in the right place at the right time to give his side the lead.

With the obvious height disadvantage, Schottia were keen to keep the ball moving, with the Kim Coultan often coming deep to create options in the midfield. For those watching the match, it would have come as little surprise that Schottia's second and third both came from such moves, started by the little Crawford City star. Coultan did well to drop the shoulder and get past Mandy Thompson, before playing the ball in behind Sarah Arrowsword. Martel-Burns was on it like a flash, and the St Johns Arsenal star kept up her excellent scoring record for club and country, sliding the ball home under Everett. Schottia's third came shortly after, once again a result of Coultan turning quickly, this time playing in Killanen. The number ten was under pressure from both Arrowsword and Cynthia Pack, but despite being dwarfed by his opponents, he managed to find the net with right-footed strike from the edge of the box.

Three nil was not a fair reflection on the balance of play, and Drawland will have headed up the tunnel wondering how in the name of Margaret they found themselves three goals down.

In the second half Michael Starre's players tightened things up, and we desperately unlucky not to pull one back when Jackie Crawford's shot came back of the post. In the end however, it was Schottia who landed the fatal blow, with substitute Mel Ünterhausen grabbing a memorable debut goal. After a neat exchange between Chloe Rudden and fellow substitute Evelyn Conjure, the former set Ünterhausen snr free with tidy cross-field ball. Meeting the ball at the edge of the area, the Arsenal de Releinthi got enough behind it to glance the ball past Everett and score her first senior goal.

[Veldgouwen]

Where Mombamosada came from remained quite a mystery but that he could hold up the fort when between the posts became a painfully clear fact. Well, obviously he hailed from Averyckian City but why no one had heard about this human spider before was borderline bizarre. The halftime whistle hadn’t yet resounded when Johan Valkeniers, in an attempt to make a visible gesture, tossed the scouting pages out in the wind. Like autumn leaves, they got picked up by the gale and blown across the pitch.

Normally, Ronny would have been as protective as possible with the info, but he knew that the info was now rendered useless. Only when page number twelve twirled past him towards the opposing bench, he had to contain himself not to run after it like a child getting out of an ten-hour school day. The contents danced in front of his eyes, most notably the conclusion of two nights running back and forth through a small tower of DVDs.

This team lacks the capacity to create a fortress which allows us to focus on our strengths in this game. Using those will result in an assured victory.

Yeah…. That hadn’t exactly materialised.

Not that Veldgouwen didn’t manage to hold on to the leather and pick up some attacks but they looked like waves on a calm beach: it didn’t matter how often they captured the beach, they would always have to retreat without taking the final dam. As soon as the side in blue entered the box, it appeared as if time stood still and those few times something went towards the goal, the waving arms of Mombamosada seemed to go in overdrive.

The only comfort Ronny found was that, when the gaffer did his thing at half-time and staged two of the original first team names, no substitution could alter the situation. Veldgouwen looked as if they were trying to push aside a small hill: it looked futile and after a while even ridiculous. The spirits, which had been put on sharp during tea-time, dampened quickly and after a while, the neutral fans at the Boldpark wondered why they had spent their hard-earned money on this frankly unsatisfactory game. The original chanties had died down and only the dry touch of leather boots on modern balls, as it went from foot to foot at the halfline, resounded in the chilly evening air.

As such, it was rather astonishment than enthusiasm which broke through when the referee pointed to the chalky dot and as many at home had dozed off as well, the replay was a welcome addition. Schaepdryver, who had taken the place of a bleak Masschelin, received the ball some twenty-five yards out. Eager to chance something, he did a hopeless rush towards the defenders in front of him, making one reminiscent of camp prisoners trying to run through the barbed wire fence in desperation. Much to everyone’s surprise, he got past the first two without too much hassle and when the third Avery halted him in his tracks, Hannes dropped down like a brick, ogling whether he had already crossed into the sixteen. He did and so it was in the midst of a field of relieved gasps that Jim Decubber started his run-up. A difficult night, but all is well that ends well.

That… Sigh. It was hardly a poor kick from Decubber, who aimed for the bottom corner. Analysts would obviously pull out their rulers and indicate it was a metre from the posts, but the bare fact was that a majestic dive from Mombamosada sent the ball towards the corner flag and the points down the drain. All that with a suicide game against the home favourites on the agenda.

As Ronny bowed his head, he saw one of the pages flail against the bench as the breeze kept it in captivity. Teasingly, it kept on concealing and revealing its bottomline.

Goalkeeper very average. Easily beaten on dead ball situations.

[Abanhfleft]

Lex Talionis, Part Twenty-one

Somewhere in Pridnestrovian-occupied territory
Nordskanian Democratic People’s Republic

Captain Sofia Iosifovna Maslennikova of the Pridnestrovian Naval Infantry did not like the situation in which she now found herself.

As the daughter of the late Interior Minister of the Pridnestrovian Republic, Sofia Maslennikova had been given the rank of captain in the Pridnestrovian Naval Infantry, the service in which she had chosen to serve her enlistment. When Pridnestrovia announced that it was going to invade Nordskania for its own sake, Sofia had expected to find herself right in the action as the Naval Infantry (which was analogous to other countries’ Marine Corps) would be among the first arrivals on Nordskanian soil, but by the time that Sofia’s regiment had landed, the fighting had already moved inland, and there were already rumors spreading that they had landed in the wrong place, on the wrong beach. By the time the Pridnestrovians had finally gotten their shit together, things only got worse. The anarchists to the north of Nordskania, the so-called “Community of Revolutionary Nordskania”, had indeed raised its armies upon the news of the Pridnestrovian invasion, and they were now also being supported by their imperialist puppet masters from Anglatia. Pridnestrovia had already drawn first blood with both sides in Sopova, with the Army taking out a large Northern force to the south of the city and the Air Force bringing down the Anglatians who were trying to reinforce the Blue Roses.

Plus, there were still the other factions in Nordskania to contend with right now. The Nordskanian People’s Army had holed up in Puloko and was looking to expand their territory from there. The Blue Roses, the largest Rose faction still standing, had finally managed to evict the Adventists of the Kingdom of God from the Red Strip and declared it as their capital. They were also to be supported by Anglatian forces even as the Air Force had attacked the planes carrying the first Anglatian forces in the country. Even Vasily Zharkov had finally emerged from his self-imposed exile in the Denisovskaya Islands to take control of his loyalists, which were based out of the burnt remains of Ryakova.

Sofia’s regiment could have easily been deployed to any of these active combat zones, but instead they had been assigned on border watch, keeping control of the many refugees passing through Pridnestrovian-occupied territory and making sure that none of them were supplying help or messages in and out of the land and that none of the refugees were actually terrorists, spies, or saboteurs. It was a boring job and a demeaning assignment for a regiment of Naval Infantry; both OMON and the military police existed for this, and yet Sofia took the blow in the chin and carried on with the assignment because she was absolutely sure that it was her elder sister, the current Interior Minister of Pridnestrovia, Eva Iosifovna Maslennikova, who was behind this.

Today appeared to be just like any other day for Sofia and the regiment. They had been stationed to guard what was quite possibly the only road in the country which no one, not even the refugees, used. Watching a stationary ribbon of asphalt had quickly and almost immediately gotten boring and mind-numbing, and nothing today indicated the action that was about to come their way. Nothing, that is, except for the truck which stopped at the top of the hill before continuing slowly on to the checkpoint. Suddenly, voices were raised and tempers flared, and that was when Sofia realized that something big was about to go down in her little corner of Nordskania.

Sofia had been talking to her deputy, Senior Lieutenant Marina Vladislavovna Kebulsky, about the possibility of convincing another regiment, any regiment, to take their place when her soldiers brought in a young woman who looked very much like her. It was like looking at a mirror, Sofia thought, except this particular reflection of hers had a mind all of her own.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sofia asked as Sergeant Aselmis and Praporshchik Zherbina hauled the girl into the shack. The girl looked like she was just between sixteen to eighteen years old.

“We stopped her at the checkpoint, Comrade Captain,” Sergeant Aselmis reported. “She was armed with a pistol and had tried to get through our checkpoint without the proper papers. We also found her documentation during the body inspection.” She laid down a nickel-plated pistol and a small set of identity documents on the table in front of Sofia, who picked up the papers and saw that this captive was from Anglatia.

The girl’s eyes widened as she saw Sofia and Kebulsky, and then she turned to look at Kebulsky closely and asked her, “Bisera?”

“Bisera?” Kebulsky repeated. “Who, me?”

“You do look like a bit like Haralampieva, after all,” Senior Lieutenant Gelbalonskaya said.

“Da, probably in the same way that you two look like Pavlyuchenko and Poroshenko,” Kebulsky retorted.

“So, we have an Anglatian trying to get through our checkpoint, huh?” Sofia said as she stood up and examined her doppelganger. “Interesting; very interesting. You know, I’ve heard rumors that Anglatian volunteers have joined up with the anarchists from the north in their fight against the dirty Communists invading the south. Are you the proof we need to prove that those rumors are true?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the girl replied.

“Of course you were going to say that,” Sofia muttered. “Why admit to something which we have not yet conclusively proven? Still, you are an Anglatian in Nordskania, and that means that you can only be one of three things: you’re an Anglatian volunteer; you’re from Anglatia’s Imperial Intelligence; or you’re from the Imperial Security Forces. I still say that you’re most probably a volunteer off to fight against the enemy that is communism. We all know that you hate communism’s guts where you come from.” Sofia had said that last line to provoke a response from the girl, but she still remained quiet.

“Of course you’re not going to say anything,” Sofia said. “Whether it’s your training or your convictions, something’s keeping your mouth shut. And I can’t say that I blame you. In your shoes, I would be doing the same thing. I’d be keeping my mouth shut while I’m surrounded by my enemies. I don’t think you’re from ISF or Imperial Intelligence, although you never really know with you imperialists. Heck, I don’t even know if you’re really young or if you’ve just been surgically altered to look young. Is that possible, though? There are rumors that Imperial Intelligence surgically alters their operatives to make them look like someone else. But surely such a thing is impossible even right now, isn’t it?” Sofia watched the prisoner’s reactions to see if she would react at the mention of Imperial Intelligence. But when the prisoner didn’t so much as twitch, she continued speaking.

“Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself,” Sofia said as she sat back down and shook her head theatrically. “Maybe you’re really not Imperial Intelligence. Maybe you really are just one of those volunteers who hate communism so much that you just have to fight it anywhere and everywhere it is. Yes, that makes more sense. You have to be a volunteer because a trained intelligence officer isn’t going to carry around her own passport and identity card anywhere near herself. But wait a minute. What if this is some kind of double bluff? What if you are an intelligence officer and you did bring your actual identity papers with you so that when you were captured, your captors would think that you would be too stupid or careless to be an intelligence officer?” Sofia had carefully chosen her words to elicit any kind of reaction from the prisoner, but she still remained quiet.

“Leave us,” Sofia ordered. “Yes, Marina, even you.” The lieutenants, praporshchik, and sergeant saluted and left Sofia alone in the shack with her doppelganger. Sofia picked up the pistol and examined it. The grip was a foam-rubber mixture which was molded to fit its owner’s hand. And even though Sofia and the prisoner were two completely different people, the pistol grip fit almost easily into her hand. Sofia then field-stripped the pistol until it was reduced into its components. That was the first time that Sofia saw any reaction from the prisoner; the girl positively flinched at the sight of Sofia taking apart her pistol. Once the pistol lay in pieces on the table, she turned to face the prisoner and asked her, “What’s your name?”

“Audra,” the girl replied.

Sofia picked up the passport on the table to check her name and face. If the passport was authentic then this was indeed Audra Jaakola of Hunsen, Valeria, Anglatia. Sofia set aside the passport and asked, “What are you doing here in Nordskania, Audra? Really? And don’t lie to me because you will regret it.”

“I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but for the sake of a friend of mine, I will.”

Sofia leaned closer to Audra. “Continue,” she said.

“You are right in thinking that I am an Anglatian,” Audra said. “I’m not from the ISF or from Imperial Intelligence, though; far from it. You could say that I’m actually a volunteer, although I had no idea that this was what I was volunteering for when I joined up. I went to Nordskania with my boyfriend because he had a deal to help the Blue Roses with his group. Then… something happened, and that was when I decided that this wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of volunteering, though?” Sofia asked with the smile of a Cheshire cat. “You’re supposed to know what you’re doing and you’re supposed to want to do it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t join the Crows to become a soldier!” Audra suddenly shouted. “I joined the Crows because they were the only people who treated me like a real person and not some street thug or a very clingy girlfriend. Now the Crows are treating me the way they’re being treated by the Blue Roses, like a fucking expendable piece of meat.”

“So you’re a member of the Crows?” Sofia asked with eyebrows raised. She immediately saw the look of alarm in Audra’s face; it was the look of someone who knew that they had said too much for their own good and that they were now going to pay for it. “Dear, oh, dear,” Sofia muttered, shaking her head. “You know, Audra, I really should be arresting you right here and right now. You are an enemy combatant, after all, because Pridnestrovia now considers the Crows to be a terrorist organization for its role in helping the Blue Roses against us. I don’t know if you’ve already killed some of my fellow countrymen before you got here to me, but the mere fact that you’ve admitted to me that you’re a Crow is more than enough for me to haul you to the stockade. But I’ve got this feeling in my gut telling me not to tell my men to lock you up right here and right now.

“I don’t know if this is what you want to hear from me or not,” Audra said, “but I’ve never so much as lifted a finger against one of your fellow countrymen, Pridnestrovian. Not yet, anyway.”

“Is that a threat?”

“If it has to be, yeah, it’s a threat. Look, I don’t have a beef with you Communists right now; I’ve got more important business to attend to. But if this was any other time, let’s just say that you and I won’t be talking like civilized people. My fight is with someone else right now, Pridnestrovian, and I can assure you that no Pridnestrovians will be harmed in what I am about to do. Well, there will be one Pridnestrovian involved, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that she’s safe and sound during what I’m about to do.”

“And who would this Pridnestrovian friend of yours be?” Sofia asked pointedly.

“I don’t think you’ve heard of her,” Audra said with a hint of a taunt.

“Try me.”

Audra looked Sofia in the eye and said, “This Pridnestrovian friend of mine is Bisera Haralampieva.”

Sofia narrowed her eyes. “I know that she’s playing in Anglatia,” she said, “but what could you possibly have to do with Bisera Haralampieva?”

“She plays for the Hunsen Loggers in Anglatia’s Imperial Super League,” Audra said matter-of-factly. “I used to play for the Hunsen Loggers myself before I asked the manager of the Loggers, Erik Hanokssen, to cut me from the team because I needed some time away from football. Look it up if you’d like.”

“Honestly, little girl, anyone can say anything as long as they say that it came from the Internet,” Sofia said. “Now there’s a good reason why the adults don’t trust the Internet.”

“I’ve already bared my soul to you, Communist,” Audra said angrily. “I’ve already told you that I’m a member of a criminal organization working alongside your country’s enemies. You have every reason in the world to clap me in irons right now, so why aren’t you doing it? Why aren’t you arresting me?”

“Well, you are right in saying that I should be arresting you right now, and despite my gut feeling about you, that’s what I’m going to do,” Sofia said. “Now this is what I’m going to do to you. You’re going to be confined to the shack farthest away from the road. You are going to be guarded by at least two soldiers every hour of every day as long as you are awake, but as soon as the clock strikes three, they’re going to turn in for some sleep of their own. I really hope that you don’t try to escape during that time.”

Audra looked up at Sofia in surprise. What did she mean by that? She asked herself.

“Also, I am going to be keeping this pistol,” Sofia said as she reassembled the pistol. “I am going to keep it in this file cabinet which doesn’t have any locks, and the file cabinet is going to be in this shack, which is not going to be occupied or guarded at three in the morning. I pray that you don’t try to take your pistol from this shack because that would really shake my trust in you, Audra.”

There it was again, Audra thought. What was this socialist talking about?

“I really hope that you know your way around Nordskania, Miss Audra Jaakola,” Sofia said, “because this place is unforgiving to those who are not prepared.”

Audra couldn’t believe her ears. Was this Pridnestrovian really allowing her to escape? Or was she just testing her, trying to see if she could be trusted to keep to herself or not. Whatever the case, though, she knew one thing: she had to get out of here soon, or else she would miss the opportunity to get something out of this mess in which she now found herself.

[Bonesea]

.

[Bonesea]

Group A
Averyickan City 3–0 United States of Devonta @ The Boldpark, Spittalsea
Veldgouwen 2-0 Bonesea @ St. Leah’s, Spittalsea

. Group A                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Averyickan City               2   1  1  0    3   0  +3    4
2 Veldgouwen                    2   1  1  0    2   0  +2    4
3 Bonesea                       2   1  0  1    3   3   0    3
4 United States of Devonta      2   0  0  2    1   6  −5    0

Group B
Equatorial Zeldaen 0–1 Garifunya @ 31-Park, Kirkevic
Savalen 1-0 Cossakastal @ Stadion Vikinki, Spýta

. Group B                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Savalen                       2   2  0  0    7   2  +5    6
2 Garifunya                     2   2  0  0    3   1  +2    6
3 Cossakastal                   2   0  0  2    1   3  −2    0
4 Equatorial Zeldaen            2   0  0  2    2   7  −5    0

Group C
Nordernius 1–3 Kaboomlandia @ Bonfire Hill, Leix
Prusy Krolewskie 2-5 Abanhfleft @ St. Tara Field, Hill o’ Tara

. Group C                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Kaboomlandia                  2   2  0  0    4   1  +3    6
2 Abanhfleft                    2   1  0  1    5   3  +2    3
3 Prusy Krolewskie              2   1  0  1    6   6   0    3
4 Nordernius                    2   0  0  2    2   7  −5    0

Group D
Juvencus 3–5 Space @ Ness Cabin, Skibereen
Amazonesta 0-1 Flardania @ St. Accrobán Lane, Skibereen

. Group D                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Flardania                     2   2  0  0    6   2  +4    6
2 Amazonesta                    2   1  0  1    2   1  +1    3
3 Space                         2   1  0  1    7   8  −1    3
4 Juvencus                      2   0  0  2    3   7  −4    0

Group E
Schottia 0–2 Revolutionary Nordskania @ The Gun Wharf, Tane, Portsea
Drawkland 3-1 Greater Vakolicci Haven @ Kunnallinen, Räystäspääsky, Suumna

. Group E                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Revolutionary Nordskania      2   2  0  0    6   0  +6    6
2 Schottia                      2   1  0  1    4   2  +2    3
3 Drawkland                     2   1  0  1    3   5  −2    3
4 Greater Vakolicci Haven       2   0  0  2    1   7  −6    0

Group F
Mercedini 3–3 Hicaña @ Den Brygge, Hammershavn, St. Bernadine
Kalumba 2-4 Barunia @ Stadion Taxhavn, Effersøe, St. Bernadine

. Group F                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Barunia                       2   2  0  0    7   2  +5    6
2 Mercedini                     2   0  2  0    5   5   0    2
3 Kalumba                       2   0  1  1    4   6  −2    1
4 Hicaña                        2   0  1  1    3   6  −3    1

[Flardania]

Renée Guidice & Rin Mizoguchi
Skibereen|Skoppa

---

It was a cool morning in Skibereen, Skoppa. The concept of playing in a different nation other than the one hosting was quite odd however thankfully not only were Kirishima playing all the group matches in one country, but in the same place. Thanks to this there was not that much to complain about. Renée woke up feeling like she took a bat to the back of the head the night before. As the bright beam of sunlight got into her eyes, Renée recoiled as one might expect a vampire to do which only made her headache much worse. As light filtered though her eyes, she noticed that she was still wearing a red dress with her heels still on.

"That's right I was celebrating my first career international start.....ugh I need a shower." Renée thought as she slowly but surely got out of the Inn's bed. Every step she took felt like a thump to the head. After having a long internal debate with herself as too whether she should undress before entering the shower, she decided to half ass it and compromise. She wouldn't ruin the dress that caught her male and female teammates attention the night before but she couldn't be bothered to remove her bra and panties. After what seem like ages she finally got cool water running though her head as her headache barely cleared up. Renée was not a heavy drinker at all but her first international start and scoring a goal to pair up with Yabuta's two, Izumi's one and Matsuoka's one felt good. Once she finally mustered up the willpower to move she got out the shower barely drying her dripping body. Once she air dried enough she put on her sweats before tying her hair into a ponytail. She did not workout this morning but at least if staff saw her from afar it will look like she did. However once she made it down to the dinning area she groaned at seeing Rin Mizoguchi alone.

It was not that she did not like Rin, in fact they had great times when she played in Hyuga. Rin felt the most betrayed when she left for Nabaek without telling him. "What was I suppose to say, because Sylvain and Nita aren't gelling that well and because I'm still not getting enough play time I'm leaving?" Renée thought as she sat down with her food before Rin approached her.

"Rough Night huh?" Rin asked plainly

"I-I guess?" Renée responded arkwardly hoping the conversation could end soon.

"Renée...we used to chat for hours. Yeah you stabbed us in the back when you went off to win a championship with Nabaek but....we are teammates now. So how about we go back to old times at least for now?"

"You make it sound like that it is my fault!" Renée snapped clutching her head.

"Well it's not mine. You did leave!" Rin responded

" And you took it so personal!" Renée countered before turning away.

At this moment Seong Mi-Soo the manager walked in.

"Hey Guidice, did you work out this morning I didn't see you anywhere." Mi-Soo asked

"uh...yea" Renée responded.

"Really where?" Mi-Soo countered knowing Renée did not know the building layout.

"With me at the pool, she went ahead and took a shower." Rin interjected.

"Oh okay sorry for doubting you Renée." Mi-Soo replied before leaving. Knowing Renée's and Rin's current relationship, she had no reason to suspect anything.

Once they were sure Seong was gone, Renée and Rin busted out laughing. "Thanks Rin" Renée said with a smile.

"Like I said we're teammates, that's wha-" Rin begun before receiving a kiss from Renée.

"I know and that was for old times sake." Renée replied. "Now lets show everyone what Hyuga can do!" Renée added.

"All right Space down and Amazonesta to go!" Rin answered pumped up.

[Revolutionary Nordskania]

Indigo Wave

Chapter Three: The Empire Complex

It was a cold and rainy day in Ross, and the whole city seemed to stop as everyone gathered around their televisions and mobile screens to watch the important press conference that was being held in the suburb of Kaine, at the Vanguard Building that was the headquarters of the Emperor’s party. It had been a long time since such a press conference had been called, and it was the first time during the reign of Emperor Colden that there was such a press conference. Instead of him arriving to deliver a speech and answer questions by himself, he was accompanied by a crew that indicated that something bigger was happening. The feeling in the air was that the nation was about to head to war, and that was confirmed by the number of military officials that were in the building.

“Please welcome to the stage, Emperor Colden of the House of Kaine, monarch of Anglatia and Valeria,” said a secretary, as the group walked onto a large platform at the north end of the meeting room, in front of the large crowd of politicians and press members. “With him are Princess Halle of Underfell, Chief of the Military Jonathan Blake, Head Executive Anya Belashova of the Northern Syndicate, and Supreme Leader Vasily Zharkov of the Nordskania Democratic People’s Republic. Representing the State of Nordskania in the place of Darya Zharkov is Micah Fairley, the Director of the Blue Army.”

The crowd clapped, and the group took their places in front of the microphones that had been set up on the platform. Behind them, there were three different flags draped on the wall. One was the white and purple Imperial one, the second was the dark blue flag with the black eagle on it, that represented the State of Nordskania. The third was one that nobody had seen before. It was solid maroon, with a golden flame in the center of the banner. Under the three flags was another one representing the Mountain Pact, one that was black with white stars in the middle representing every state in the pact.

“Today, our nation leaves its way of never keeping friends,” said Colden, causing the crowd to go silent as they listened. “We believe that the world cannot be trusted and that our own interests and the world’s interests cannot coexist, and while that is true in most cases, there are exceptions to everything. Over the years, we've limited our interactions with other nations to a minimal level, focusing on our own Empire and on surviving on our own resources. But today, we come together with two other nations to form a new alliance for the mutual benefit of each other. We call it the Mountain Pact.”

There were murmurs from the crowd, but Colden kept speaking. “Over the years, our involvement in Nordskania has grown and become more important due to their proximity to our large colony, Patierre. We've conducted anti communist operations with a number of factions there, but over the course of the recent unrest there, we realized that if we don't aid the Imperial aligned states there, we may lose all of the work we've put into removing the enemy from the region. And so because of that, we've determined that military aid isn't enough. We must support these fledgling countries in a full alliance and help them to rebuild during and after the current war. On this day, the Mountain Pact becomes official, with the charter being signed by myself and by the leaders of the Northern Syndicate, the State of Nordskania, and the NDPR.”

The crowd seemed confused about the NDPR being part of the alliance, considering that they were the original faction that the Empire fought out west. “The Democratic People's Republic may be our historical enemy, and a powerful one at that, but changing times lead to changing nations. The Soviet Republic is now the communist faction in the west, and the People's Republic has shifted away from the failures of the past. They are willing to change to survive, and have adopted a market economy and a leadership structure similar to our own. Their territory is small, but their leadership is experienced, and along with their allies, I have confidence that our investment in them will not fail.”

He gestured to Micah, who picked up where he left off. “We, the Social Republic of the State of Nordskania, will also be joining this pact. We would like to thank Emperor Colden for showing extraordinary kindness to our Duce, Darya Zharkov, by offering her a place to stay after her initial defeat, and by supporting our young country at great expense. If Darya were here right now, she would inform you in person of her great gratitude.”

Colden slightly blushed at that statement, which would only fuel the rumors that he was in a relationship with Zharkov. Of course, she was also linked to relationships with footballer Piotr Vlasenko and crime lords Slobo Vulovic and Lyosha Kotov, so it was hard to tell how much truth there was in the rumors. Fortunately for him, the spotlight was stolen from him as Anya Belashova spoke. “My people, the Northern Syndicate, will also be members of this new alliance. The Empire of Greater Anglatia is the only country that cares about protecting our freedoms, and we reject the notion that we are simply puppets. Maybe if the rest of the world gave a damn about us, we wouldn't have to run to our Imperial friends as much as we do. Our nations have been friends from the start, but today, we reaffirm our commitment and start to look to the future and what is in store when these wars conclude.”

After Belashova’s statement, Colden took over the speech again. “Our alliance already faces early threats. Stepan Stepanenko has warned us and has told us to back out of Nordskania, but we will not be intimidated by him and his forces. An invasion on one nation in our pact is an invasion on all of them, and the Empire of Greater Anglatia will not tolerate the Pridnestrovian invasion of our allies. We haven’t fought a proper war in over a decade, and I believe that our reluctance to fully extend our forces has led the rest of the world to forget just how powerful we are. Pridnestrovia claims that a war would be disastrous for us, but the truth is that we have every imaginable advantage.”

The crowd cheered, and Colden took that as a sign to continue. “Our populace is much larger and is willing to fight to protect our sea borders from socialism. Our military is as advanced as any in the world, and when deployed fully, beats theirs in every category from size to technological level. In the Second Torsjo War, we showed that we have the Underfell Array, a weapon capable of leveling entire cities and turning a war nuclear if the need calls for it. Pridnestrovia assumed that we would spare ourselves the expense of going all in to protect our allies, but they are wrong, and they are no match for us.”

There was another cheer from the crowd, and Colden gestured to Jonathan Blake. “Our military has been called a war machine by the press, but that is an understatement. Greater Anglatia may be an empire divided, by linguistic lines and ethnic lines and political lines and religious lines, and that is expected for any empire that stretches across multiple continents and islands, but when our attention is focused on a dangerous enemy, we all manage to work together. The military is not the war machine, the nation itself is. This empire makes it possible to wage war without feeling the harm from international sanctions, and is why isolationism worked so well. We don’t need to import oil, because we can get it from Baratstan. We don’t need to import steel, because we can make it in Bathgate. We can get rubber from Valeria and from Eastern Anglatia, and we can get plastic from Kisote. During war, the true unity of the empire shows through our efforts.”

After a pause, Blake continued. “We will win this war by grinding the enemy down through our imperial collectivism, and through outlasting them in the war of attrition. They will run out of resources, and we will not. If they try to take the resources from us, than so be it. We will defend our islands to the last man, and they may run out of men before they can even get out of the furthest west colony, Patierre. They say that their international complaints will hurt us, but we have never paid mind to international law. We rely on ourselves and our allies only, and the condemnation of the international community means nothing to us. We’ve never relied on trade, and the sanctions will only help our own economy as jobs return to the industries in our own empire.”

Colden spoke again after the applause, this time with a new fire in his voice. “Thus, it is today that we officially declare war on Pridnestrovia. Your nation will find itself under our heel soon enough, whether that is because of running out of resources or because of finding yourself on the wrong end of the Underfell Array. When it is, you will not receive any of the liberties granted to the other colonies. You will become the state of Territory Twelve, and your land will be stripped of its tradition and its rights and your people will spend the rest of their lives working to increase the prosperity of ours. If you don’t want this fate, if you don’t want your children to face a future of servitude to our empire, we suggest that you withdraw from Nordskania and pay reparations for the damages done to the island. It is your choice, Pridnestrovia. Make sure that you choose wisely.”

The press conference was over. With that, the group left the stage to thunderous applause, as the Anglatian press geared up to start marketing the war to the people. This was the biggest story since the destruction of Torsjo, and this story was even bigger than that one. Yes, this speech was what showed that the war was really beginning. It was no longer a proxy war, but a real one between two nations who wouldn’t just back away easily under pressure. Those caught in the middle could only hope that it would be over quickly.

[Mercedini]

Independents' Cup MD2: Mercedini vs. Hicaña LIVE
@ Den Brygge - St. Bernadine, Taxhavn

Welcome back to the Independants Cup here in Taxhavn where Mercedini hope to bounce back after their disappointing opening draw against Kalumba. We're back in the Den Brygge Stadium in St. Bernadine for Mercedini's second match against Hicana, who we're comprehensively beaten 3-0 by Barunia in their first match. Mercedini, who already have a point on the board after their 2-2 with Kalumba will hope to get a win today to all but seal their place in the knockout rounds. Remember that potentially the top-3 teams can qualify so a draw could still se Mercedini qualify, although the path would be made whole lot longer due the Golden Eagles playing Barunia in their final game. The crowds are filing in and the players have finished their training and we're all set for the MD2 kickoff.

---

0' - The normal riff-raff of the national anthems and the gifts from the captains has concluded and the players are back in formation for the start of the game. Only one change for the Mercedinian side, with new Somer City and Surrounds signing Ross Presic entering the pitch while Carlton Pujanic is relegated to the bench for this match. Can the new boy cause a splash in his starting role? We will see...

7' - (MRC 0-0 HIC) - GOAL!! What a start for Hicana and it's 1-0 in only the seventh minute. The unranked side have pressed and pressed and they have their reward with the opening goal in this match. Their 4-3-3 formation has stretched the four-man defence of Mercedini and they've found the net. It's Johan Escobar who wheels away from the goal and his players follow and pile on top of him. The goal was started from a long ball inside the Hicanan half, the bell then fell to Santana who floated the ball into the box, it was almost in slow motion as Hosset approached the catch the ball but Escobar got to the ball first, and flicked the ball over the goalkeeper with his head and the ball rolled into the net. Simple as that, 1-0 Hicana

14' - (MRC 0-1 HIC) - Oh my goodness, I can't believe what I'm seeing. Hicana are 2-0 up after a superb breakaway goal from the three strikers. Jackic was caught in possession and the defenders we're caught short by the high line of Hicana, the three strikers broke away from the rest of the field. It was 3-on-2, Escobar raced away to find space in the Mercedinian box, Escobar then squared the ball to Emma da Silva who slid the ball into the open net. Hicana 2-0 up within 14 minutes and the travelling Mercedinian fans look miserable.

22' - (MRC 0-2 HIC) - Mercedini are having a good spell of possession inside the Hicanan half but nothing is coming from it just yet. Billic and Chillotov haven't had enough time and space on the ball to string together a meaningful chance for their team. Presic and Crasic are currently the best chance at a definitive chance as the defenders are focusing too much on the centre of the pitch. The two wingers are finding space so let's see if they can utilise that. Still 2-0

27' - (MRC 0-2 HIC) - GOAL!! and Mercedini are back in this game with a goal from an unusual source. Callum Aznelik has his first goal in a which came from a corner and was eventually forced in. Crasic sent the ball in from the far side, Tranev got a strong header on the ball but was initially cleared by the man on the post, a goal-mouth scramble ensued but Azneik managed to toe-poke the ball into the net to get Mercedini back into the game. He picked the ball up and went straight back to the half-way line and we're already back underway. 2-1.

36' - (MRC 1-2 HIC) - Mercedini have got a grip on this game now as they've received a lot more of the ball in the past couple of minutes. Billic and Chillotov still not getting as much time on the ball as they'd like but at least it's something to hang on to. We have about ten minutes until the end of the first half for Mercedini to get the equalising goal in this match. Still 2-1 as it stands though.

40' - (MRC 1-2 HIC) - Just when you thought Mercedini were getting a foothold in this game, Hicana have gone up the other end and put a third goal on the board for them. It's the Hicanan captain Sanitago Correia with the goal to give his team a two goal lead, although he did get a nasty deflection to evade the goalkeeper. The Hicanans were simply passing the ball until the ball fell to the captain who shot the ball, it deflected off Tranev I think which wrong-footed the goalkeeper and sent the ball into the bottom corner. Audible boos coming from the Mercedinian fans, they find their side 3-1 down against an unranked Hicanan side.

43' - (MRC 1-3 HIC) - Bjarnasson ordering his men to go for the ball and seize possession from his opponents to try and get a goal back before the end of the first half, he hasn't got a lot of time to do it but I would think his players have enough skill to turn it around. Only two minutes plus stoppage time until the end of the half and it's still 3-1 to Hicana.

45+1' - (MRC 1-3 HIC) - The referee blows his whistle for the end of the first half and no prizes for guessing who is the happier side. Cheers from the Hicanans and boos from the Mercedinians as they go into half time 3-1 down against a team that, to be honest, they should be breezing past. Callum Aznelik's goal the only bright spot of a miserable half which has seen the big names of Billic and Chillotov relatively absent. At the end of the first half, it's Mercedini 1, Hicana 3!

HALF TIME
Mercedini 1 - 3 Hicaña
Aznelik 27' | Escobar 7', da Silva 14', Correia 40'

Mercedini and Hicana emerge from the tunnel, the Hicanan fans are the only ones making any noise at the moment, I wonder why. I haven't heard the Mercedinians be so quiet since we started playing international football. It make you wonder about certain positions and how stable they are at this time, Bjarnasson being one with the positions of other players at risk as well. We still have 45 minutes to save this match, so have your fingers crossed. We're underway in the second half, Mercedini need two goals for one points, and three goals for a win.

48' - (MRC 1-3 HIC) - We're only a couple of minutes into this second half and it's already very clear where both teams have their priorities, attack attack attack is the name of the game at the moment with Bjarnasson and his men desperately trying to get back into this game as soon as they can. Billic and Chillotov have moved wider to accompany the wingers. Will this modification alter the trajectory of the game, only time will tell. Still 3-1 Hicana

54' - (MRC 1-3 HIC) - GOAL!! Mercedini have a goal back in this game and it's that man Sam Billic to lead the fightback for the Mercedinians. It's a customary goal from the Myrmidon man, Chillotov with a long through ball across the pitch was met by Billic, the goalkeeper came out to narrow the angle but Billic curled the ball around the keeper and into the net for his second of the tournament and Mercedini's second of the game. It's now 3-2!

65' - (MRC 2-3 HIC) - Hicana are slowing down the pace of the game to good effect to dampen the Mercedinian momentum in this game. Slow passing around the midfield and defence are frustrating the Mercedinian fans and players. We still have a large chunk of time left in this game so let's see if Bjarnasson can counteract the tactics of his Hicanan counterpart. 3-2 Hicana, and the points are slowly slipping away from Mercedini at this point

70' - (MRC 2-3 HIC) - The heavens have opened and the yellow plastic ponchos are out in full force around the stadium. It's absolutely pissing it down and the players and some of the fans are getting soaked out there. The pitch doesn't look to be holding out too well either but I think the referee will let pay continue for the time being. The ball is travelling a lot slower which will surely change the dynamics of the game. Twenty minutes left in the game, can Mercedini force the initiative?

79' - (MRC 2-3 HIC) - GOAL!! with about ten minutes left in the game, Mercedini have grabbed the equaliser to the delight of the Mercedinian fans and the heartbreak of the Hicanans. It's Tim Crasic with the goal with a thunderbolt from just outside the box. He was running down the wing before he cut inside and dribbled past two defenders, he then unleashed this firecracker which flew into the top corner, I don't think he will hit a better one than that! The players and the subs go mental in the corner while Bjarnasson is calling for calm, good luck with that mate! It's 3-3!

85' - (MRC 3-3 HIC) - Oh my word, Hicana have just had a chance to steal the game from under Mercedini's noses but it's gone begging. It was Escobar to grab his second of the game clear on goal, he rounded the keeper but the angle was too tight for him to finish off the match in style, and he ultimately hit the side netting. Some of the fans in the stadium thought it went in, but it didn't. Still 3-3, but that was a golden chance for the unranked side.

90' - (MRC 3-3 HIC) - No more added time in this match as Mercedini have gotten out of jail in this match. I would think they'll be happy with this draw given the circumstances but at the start of the match they really should've rolled Hicana over. A second draw means they are still undefeated but they are still without a win in this tournament. At the end of the match, it's Mercedini 3, Hicana 3!

FULL TIME
Mercedini 3 - 3 Hicaña
Aznelik 27', Billic 54', Crasic 79' | Escobar 7', da Silva 14', Correia 40'

Another draw for Mercedini means they are up against it as the enter the final match of the group, a potential revenge matchup against already-qualified Barunia, a win would see them lock up second place in the group while a draw would leave them biting their fingernails in hope that Hicana and Kalumba draw their match or that they qualify in one of the best third placed teams. Mercedini can also lose and still qualify but they would have to lose by only once goal and hope that the other match ends in a draw, meaning they would qualify second on goal difference.
We hope to see you then for the all or nothing match between Barunia and Mercedini, but for now from Taxhavn. Good night!

[Barunia]

Temporary coach Adam Johnson has made a strong claim on the top job with the Suns, going two from two in the Independents' Cup.
Johnson received the call to fill the position just prior to the start of the new tournament, with Joric Ruskin retiring after the World Cup. While it is early days for the 43-year-old, the team have scored seven goals and let in just two to claim six points and guarantee a place in the finals.

It's good news for Johnson's charges, with defender Adam Donaldson admitting it might be hard to focus on the final group match.
"It's an unusual time of the year to play football," Donaldson said in an interview after the win over Kalumba. "It's summer in Barunia, and it's also going to be the first time most of us will be away for the holiday period, which is tough."
The final game against Mercedini will be played on the morning of the 23rd, Barunian time, where the locals will be gathering to celebrate Federation Day. The national day also marks the start of the Christmas break, with three days of public holidays.
Barunians traditionally celebrate the national day with friends, before spending Christmas day with family. Donaldson said that "Being away from the family is difficult - you want to be there. For most of us, this will be the first time that's happened, so I expect us to be a little distracted out there."

One tradition the Suns won't miss out on is a feast, with Johnson promising them a typically Barunian meal after the game. The Spanish communities of the north customarily shared cooking a paella as part of their community gatherings, and the concept spread to the rest of the country. Johnson has decided to make sure the Suns get their meal, and has had a large paellera dish shipped over especially.
"We'll make sure we celebrate Federation along with the rest of the nation. Felix has volunteered to cook: apparently he wants to make sure we make a proper paella, and not just rice with stuff in it. As long as he doesn't poison us; else he might find himself on the bench for a long time. Thankfully we don't have any games over the next few days, so we can have a late night. I know some of the team are planning to stay up and watch the show from the Park."
Federation Park in the Barunian capital is the largest Federation Day celebration in the country. A live televised concert featuring the best of Barunia's musicians and celebrities is held every year, before a fireworks display. While not a Christmas concert, Santa usually makes an appearance for the kids, and the event is a family favourite across the country.
Midfielder Matt Vine said that his little girl loved the show so much, he almost didn't get on the plane to Taxhavn. "We always drive down to Porthaven to see it live. Clara's only six, but we've been every year since she was born. This will be the first year I won't be there. It's tough, being away from family, but hopefully we can bring them back a trophy here."

[Schottia]

Ruination

Part Three

Handon, Present day
Karen had been looking forward to an early night, yet somehow it was twelve thirty, and she was still sat hunched at her laptop. The hot water bottle she had placed under her feet, when she got home from training, was now starting to go cold, and her hot chocolate has merely a dry dusty layer of powder at the bottom of her mug. The story of Margaret Davis had proven to be more interesting than she had initially anticipated. The Schottic Ghosts & Gouls website Arrdly had recommended had served as a starting point, but she had progressed to downloading several pdf files of books going into far more detail. From what she could gather, the woman had been the victim of the times she lived in. An era of mistrust, extreme inequality, and a need for scapegoats. Karen couldn't bring herself to believe in magic, and there was nothing going to convince her, for a spilt second, that any of the charges against the woman were true. A workingwoman, a foster mother, and a role model to dozens of young girls had been put to death in the name of superstition, as far as she could tell.

Karen lifted her mug to her mouth, but it was through some innate instinct rather than any belief that it contained something to drink. The futile act was enough to bring her out of her reading daze, however, and she cracked her knuckles before sitting back in her chair. Half-fuckin-twelve. This was what happened when you had a job, which started at eleven. A joke job. You got lazy, you got complacent about going to bed, and you inevitably got stuck in a cycle of nocturnal existence.

Karen placed her hand on the radiator in the corner of her room. The gage was up to full, but it was barely warm. There was definitely something wrong with the heating in the flat, but the landlord was never going to lift a finger, so she'd be wasting her breath asking. The pilot flame kept blowing out, and the water in the taps rarely got above tepid, what she would give for a properly hot shower. Schottia was not the country to live in if your flat wasn't properly heated. They only had three months of summer and nine of winter, with spring and autumn doing a great impression of being just as cold as January.

She pulled her thick fisherman's rib jumper over her head and ventured out into the hallway, braving one of the entirely unheated rooms of the flat. Karen had picked the jumper up in a second hand shop two years ago, and its sole purpose was to be worn in situations like this. It was originally three sizes too big for her, but she had washed it a couple of months back, ignoring he hand wash symbol, and as a result it fitted a little better.

She had an evening routine: First she want to the kitchen and put the kettle on, then she went back down the landing, brushed her teeth, and untied her hair. By that time, the water had boiled and she returned to the kitchen to refill her hot water bottle, which she then placed in her bed to warm up, while she made herself some supper. A glass of tap water, and some hummus on oatcakes, consumed while she stood pressing her bottom into the iron radiator, trying to stay warm. The fact that she was down to the last scrapings of hummus told her that she needed to do her weekly shop, and also that she should sniff the aforementioned spread to check it was fresh enough to eat.

Back in her bedroom Karen moved the bottle down from where it had been warming the area for her torso, and placed it at her feet. She then laid her glass of water on the bedside table, set her alarm, and grabbed her book. It was shortly before one in the morning, so she could still get her precious eight hours sleep. She always made a point of reading something that wasn't a back-lit screen before bed, even if it were just a double page. Karen was sure she had heard somewhere that too much white light disrupted your sleep, and she sure as hell wasn't going to chance it. Sleep was surprisingly important to her. Perhaps it was the lack of any family nearby, a loving partner, a group of close friends, but the everyday things in her life had taken on much more importance. It had been a busy day, but a reasonably productive one. At least she could tell her parents next time they phoned, that she had been promoted. It seemed that the best way to keep them off her back was to drip-feed them titbits of information about her limited - and grossly exaggerated - successes.

There was no training tomorrow, she finished work at six, and would be home by seven. Shopping and dinner finished by eight, then she'd pour herself a glass of wine and relax before having an early night - for once.

Handon, 1652
Margaret Davis expected her girls to be up, dressed, and washed by seven every morning, as the bells of St Jeff's Kirk first sounded. Obsessive levels of cleanliness were born more from Davis' own personal fixation, than they were a product of the time. The woman almost believed in it as a form of prayer, like it would bring them closer to god.

It was not yet daylight as the four young women washed their faces, combed their hair, and dressed themselves. The light form a few candles was the only form of illumination in their otherwise cave like dwelling. Davis' lodgings were at the top of Auk Street, in what had once been the cellars of Cloughson's Printers. The buildings had been made vacant twenty years previous, after a fire had caused the firm to fold. It consisted of four small rooms with arched ceilings, decreasing in size; The first used as a living area, the second for storage, the third was where the girls slept, and the fourth contained Davis' own bed. The rooms were windowless, however the first and second had large wooden doors, which could be opened to allow light in. The stone walls, which often ran with damp, still carried with them a faint trace of the smoke which had engulfed the entire street, killing hundreds of people.

Auk Street was right in the grimy, densely populated heart of the city, yet still, people had been slow to repopulate the area so devastated by the fire. Tenements and businesses, sat side by side with gap sites where piles of charcoal and blackened stone lay untouched. This was not an affluent part of the city, and developers were slow to move in. The underclass didn't have the money to fund the repairs, and the East Ossorian Imperial Administration couldn't have cared less. As it were, children still played around the rubble, and families squatted in atrocious conditions in parts of the buildings which had been left behind.

Right now it was too cold to open the doors, not that there was much light at seven in the morning this far north. Cathlín Grant, the youngest of the girls busily tended to the range, raking out the ashes so as she could get the fire going. The first chamber was the only one that had any heat, and on a cold day none of it even permeated as far as the second one, let alone the bedrooms. Therefore, on the very coldest nights Davis allowed the girls to sleep on rugs in the first chamber. For those, including Davis herself, who had been here longer, they could remember far worse. The damp was slowly beginning to lessen, and the smell of smoke had either gone, or they were used to it.

Cathlín carefully filled the pail, making sure to sweep up any traces of ash she had left behind. Pushing the large wooden door open a crack, she squeezed out into the steep icy street, and headed for the midden at the top of the road. She clutched the brass pail tightly by the handle, making sure not to slip on any of the puddles, and frozen human waste. The buildings around Auk Street and its neighbouring lanes were tall, and the way was narrow. As Cathlín looked up the sky was still and inky dark blue, with swirls of grey cloud, which hurtled by above her head.

Life was tough working for Davis, but it had been a damn sight tougher before. Cathlín, like all the girls in Davis' care, had lost her parents, and with only their hope being one of the city's orphanages, or a life on the streets, her prospects had been grim. None of them knew Davis' story, and none of them knew why she did it, but Margaret Davis had found them and taken them in. Living here, and working for her house cleaning business was a stepping stone towards employment, to getting a roof over her head, and opportunities she could never have hoped for otherwise.

'Quicker Miss Cathlín,' Davis uttered on her return, as the young girl closed the door behind her. 'I doubt we'll all freeze to death waiting for you to get that fire going.' She was a tall, stony-faced woman, and she stood watch at the back of the room, while the girls ran hither and thither fetching the breakfast. Davis was dressed from head to toe in a long back dress and overcoat - and with the white fringe of her shirt collar and her pale complexion, it looked almost as if they were disembodied, floating in the gloom. Cathlín was always slow to get the fire going, the lack of heat and hot water were constantly a hold up to the morning routine. However Davis maintained that she stuck with it, practice made perfect, and none of them would get anywhere if they did not conquer their problems.

'Sorry Ms Davis.' The nine-year-old replied, working all the harder. As mentioned, Cathlín was one four that Davis currently had in her care. Some of them stayed longer than others. Some were there for a matter of days, before they undoubtedly struggled to adjust to a social environment, and would leave one night to return to the streets. Others stayed the full course, and aged fourteen or fifteen would find permanent employment and lodgings, working in one of city merchant's houses. Cara, Jean, and Charlotte were all reaching that age now and Cathlín dreaded them leaving. They had been a closed group for about eight months now, and there was a real sense of sisterly loyalty between them. Cathlín hadn't really known family; her parents had died when she was small. She had then lived with her grandmother for a time, until she had eventually been taken into one of the city's poor houses. It was from there she had run away, and found herself in the care of Ms Davis.

'Right, food on the table.' Ms Davis said as they finally got themselves in order. 'Quickly now, no talking, and make sure you have washed your hands.' On days like this, they left the house in darkness and they returned in darkness, wrapped in heavy scarves and over coats. For Ms Davis' Girls, like the rest of Handon's poor, the spring couldn't come quick enough.

[Bonesea]

.

[Kalumba]

The Herald

15 Fans Arrested in Taxhavn
Report by Suzie Mtwetwe

In a long expected move a number of Kalumban football fans have been arrested in Taxhavn, during the inaugural Independents Cup. This is the first time that hooliganism, long a stain on our domestic game, has spread over into the international stage leaving our whole nation embarrased and forcing our local consualte to issue an apology to our host nations and to the teams we have played thus far.

The first arrests happened during our eventful two all draw with Mercedini when three fans were arrested for smuggling pyrotechnics into the stadium and igniting them during the game, and a further two fans were arrested for being drunk and disorderly after the match finished. All five fans have been deported back to Kalumba and issued with a two year banning order preventing them from leaving the country or attending any football matches.

The banning orders themselves are a new measure adopted by parliament only in January of this year and this is the first time they have been used. There was some controversy over the laws, however compared to the current curfews and travel bans the government is allowed to issue in response to those accused of terrorism the banning orders are rather mild and haven't aroused much protest except from the hardest core of hooliganism.

A further ten fans were arrested after the defeat to Barunia for disorderly conduct, perhaps a vague charge but having witnessed the excess of our fans it is perhaps the best way to describe the various infractions they commit on a regular basis.

This newspaper for one hopes that these banning orders are a wake up call to supporters of this country's football team to respect the laws of the land and not to drink to excess. They are a blight upon the good character of Kalumba and the sooner their disorder is stamped out the better for all of us.

Sorry about the lack of roleplaying, real life is being an unpredictable bastard at the moment

[Abanhfleft]

This time, it's Lex Talionis I don't have a ready pat yet so I'm going to post the Pridnestrovian invasion here. As always, enjoy at your own risk.

The Pridnestrovian Invasion of Nordskania, Part Ten

Serpukhov-6 Fortress
Nordskanian Democratic People’s Republic

The Pridnestrovian invasion of Nordskania was going well, but in Colonel General Vsevolod Leonidovich Pankavuranov’s opinion, it could be going so much better right now. Following the entrance of the northern anarchists of so-called “Revolutionary Nordskania” and their imperialist puppet masters from the Empire of Anglatia into the war, the Pridnestrovian invasion had, for lack of a better word, been bogged down fighting these two forces. The 247th Guards Armored Division had come up against a large anarchist encampment somewhere in the farmlands to the south of the city of Sopova, which was currently under the occupation of the fascist so-called “State of Nordskania”, which both the northern anarchists and the Anglatian imperialists had claimed as their ally in this war. The 247th Guards Armored was coming up against stiff resistance in Sopova, and while the Pridnestrovian Air Force had managed to down some of the aircraft carrying actual Anglatian forces to reinforce the fascists, much more had made it through unscathed and were now making themselves a nuisance to the Army and OMON forces trying to surround Sopova for a siege.

Outside of that particular conflict, the Army had managed to encircle what remained of the city of Ryakova, and there were already reports of hand-to-hand combat between the Pridnestrovians and forces loyal to the old dictator of Nordskania, Vasily Zharkov, who had gone back to Ryakova to take control of his loyalist forces. It was much the same thing in the city of Puloko, which had become the headquarters of the Nordskanian People’s Army, which was trying its own hand in running its own corner of the nation. Right now, it was hard to gauge which side was the hardest for the Pridnestrovians to deal with.

The Serpukhov-6 Fortress was just like its sister over a hundred kilometers away, but with the added bonus of a large and structurally sound airfield where the Pridnestrovians could base their own planes. Pridnestrovia had had complete command of the airspace before the Anglatians arrived with their troops and their ships and their jets to aid their northern puppets, and now dogfights between Pridnestrovian and Anglatian jets had become a common sight in the skies above Nordskania. There were already plans in place to take out the north’s infrastructure, but even with the knowledge that the northern skies were much more well-defended than the south, an awful lot of Pridnestrovia’s cruise missiles still ended up getting knocked out of the skies, messing up the plans to deny Anglatia the use of the northern airfields in the vicinity of Masloka and Turbayov.

The central control room of the Serpukhov-6 Fortress had been turned into a massive status board by the Pridnestrovians, but because of the reduced amenities of the place, they had gone old school, using wooden boards and pegs to represent active units in the front and sticks to move the unit markers around to represent their current positions. Right now, two divisions had been tasked to attack Ryakova and one division assigned to Puloko, while three divisions were at work surrounding the old Red Strip and their Anglatian reinforcements. One more division had been sent to try to block off the anarchists’ access to the south and keep them out of the fight for as long as possible.

“Give me the latest status report,” Colonel General Pankavuranov said as he looked down at the massive status board, where aides and orderlies were shuffling around the various units of the invasion force.

“The 247th Guards Armored and the 50th Motor Rifles are coming up against stiff opposition from both the fascists and the anarchists as they get closer to Sopova, Comrade General,” /said Lieutenant General Yaroslav Mikhailovich Yevin, Pankavuranov’s overall second-in-command. “They took out an armored unit which tried to surprise them to the south of the city, but after that, they’ve had to slog it out with the enemy. Army and OMON units are still fighting the Anglatian units which have been landed near Sopova during the first offensive against the city. Over in Ryakova, a few Army units have already penetrated into the city, but they’re currently at risk of getting cut off as they’ve overextended just to get in. There has been no progress in the fighting around Puloko and the push into the north.”

“Someone tell the units in Ryakova to slow down and consolidate their gains before pushing any further,” Pankavuranov ordered. “They’re up against Zharkov’s loyalists, and we all know how fanatical they are about their leader. We can’t afford to lose entire units just yet because our reinforcements will take some time to arrive here, and that’s if they don’t get intercepted by those Anglatian Navy ships coming in to support their puppets.”

“Yes, Comrade General,” Yevin nodded as he made notes on Pankavuranov’s orders.

“How about the aerial campaign, Mikhailich? How much damage are we dealing to the northern anarchists?”

“I’m afraid it’s not much, Comrade General,” Yevin admitted. “Despite the increased volume of missiles we’ve launched against them, their aerial defenses are still holding up to the test. Aside from the odd missile getting through and smashing into buildings and such, there’s not much damage to report from the north.”

“So right now it appears as if the principle of throwing everything you’ve got until something hits is not working for us right now,” Pankavuranov observed. “How many more missiles do we need to launch to put the fear of their god into the anarchists’ hearts?”

“Comrade General, it is not just simply a matter of launching more missiles at them,” Yevin told Pankavuranov. “It is not a swift process, manufacturing more missiles for us and getting what missiles we already have to the front. At the current time, we will only be wasting our missiles launching them at the north at the current state of their defenses. What we need is some way to destroy those defenses before we launch our missiles.”

“What, you mean sabotage them? Is such a thing possible?”

“The Spetsnaz could do it, but with the anarchists on a high state of alert now that they’re at war, getting through them to their defenses is going to be difficult.”

“Then let us keep that plan in mind for when we really need it. Right now, we cannot afford to lose our Spetsnaz units, but perhaps we can attempt one more raid against the anarchists. The Air Force is already preparing their bombers and fighters for the first wave, and then, once the anarchists have hopefully expended their defenses dealing with our planes, we will give them a good surprise.”

“Yes, Comrade General.”

Pankavuranov walked away from the status board and walked towards the office which he had appropriated for his own purposes. “Come with me, Mikhailich,” he told Yevin. “There’s something I wish to talk about in private.”

“Certainly, Comrade General,” Yevin said as he followed Pankavuranov into the office. He watched as the colonel general took a bottle of Famous Grouse from the desk and pour himself a glass. He then poured another glass and handed it to Yevin, who accepted it.

“Let’s talk about this new Mountain Pact which our dear friend Colden has come up with now,” Pankavuranov said as he sat down behind his desk.

“What about it, Leonidich?” Yevin asked, referring to Pankavuranov by his patronymic, a courtesy only afforded to close friends. “Don’t tell me it’s troubling you.”

“No, no, of course not,” Pankavuranov waved away the thought. “The petty Nordskanian states can do nothing against us. Even the north, tough as they may be right now, are of no trouble to us. The only ones I’m ever really truly worried about are the Anglatians. They have the resources and the military capability enough to rival even the Fleftics, and that’s never a good thing as far as we are concerned. But to tell you the truth, Mikhailich, I found myself more entertained than terrified by Colden’s pronouncement of his Mountain Pact.”

“Why is that, Leonidich?”

“What I saw there is a man trying to prove to the rest of the world that he can do things all by his lonesome,” Pankavuranov replied. “Comrade Colden goes on and on about being able to live off of their own resources because they’ve always been isolationist and can withstand the effect of hundreds of thousands of sanctions, but all I hear is someone trying to convince himself that they are capable of doing that. Also, he shouldn’t be going around shouting where his strategic resources are located, because that gives enemies chances to cut off his vital supplies when he needs them the most.”

“I was just thinking the same thing, Leonidich,” Yevin said. “I’m willing to wager a year’s wages that right now, the KGB and the GRU are already planning something in Baratstan or wherever the hell their oil fields and refineries are.”

“And did you hear what the leader of the anarchists said during the announcement? ‘We reject the notion that we are puppets, and the only reason we run back to the Anglatians is because no one else is willing to recognize us!’ Why, that made them sound like a bunch of whiny brats! And they wonder why no one supports and recognizes them! The anarchists, the fascists, and now our old friend Comrade Zharkov as well are all puppets the emperor, much as they would like to deny it. The strings are visible from where we’re standing.”

“Speaking of the emperor, what do you say of his proclamation to destroy us if we do not back out?” Yevin asked.

“The young fool has just revealed his cards to us,” Pankavuranov replied. “He has revealed the real reason why he is sending his people to die alongside their puppets. But what’s an imperialist going to do when he’s presented with a massive opportunity? It is obvious that Colden has had his eyes on us long before this whole mess, as he has already prepared an occupation plan for our country: turning us into this so-called Territory Twelve and turning our people into their slaves so they could add our own resources to theirs. This war of ours against Nordskania has not been very popular with the people, much as the Comrade President’s propaganda machine would have us believe otherwise, but now that Colden has directly threatened our country, that’s got the people finally giving this war their full backing. They want us to smash the imperialists’ puppets and dare them to come to us and get what they really want.”

“But what if they decide to come at us with that new superweapon of theirs? Then what?”

“There’s no need to worry about that Underfell Array of theirs. The thing with these superweapons is that it just takes one component to not do its job for everything to fall apart. But that’s not my job to worry about.”

“And if all else fails, and the Anglatians are knocking on the gates of Tiraspol like the Szavodans did all those years before?”

“Then the Pridnestrovian people will make sure that the imperialists have wasted a lot of their own resources for nothing whatsoever,” Pankavuranov replied. “In the unspeakable event that the worst does come to pass, the Anglatians will find that they have wasted lives to gain a worthless Territory Twelve. Besides, do they think that they’re the only ones with secret agreements and pacts of their own? I shudder to think that the time is coming that we will have to consider the Fleftics our allies, but if it has to come to that, we will call upon them and their own allies to avenge us. But it will not do us well to dwell on such a possibility. The war is still very much winnable for our side, as long as we remain focused on our objectives and keep to them. As much as we can, we will keep this war from spreading out of Nordskania, but it Anglatia wants to make it spill over then we can only respond in kind. This makes me wish that we really had designs of returning communism to their Patierre colony, but no, that would be a much more difficult fight than the one we already have in our hands. No, we’re better off keeping ourselves here. We will grind them down and they will grind us down, but we will keep the fighting here. That’s the least we can do for our country. We serve the Pridnestrovian Republic, after all.”

“Indeed, Leonidich,” Yevin nodded. “We serve the Pridnestrovian Republic.”

[Garifunya]

Official Communique
National Intelligence Office
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Madame Minister,

As you know, we have been monitoring the situation in Garifunya for some time now, since the ousting of former President and dictator Jan Patriek "Baas" Gillaat. We had maintained undercover intelligence operatives in Garifunya during the Gillaat dictatorship, but had no official presence other than the occasional appropriation of money for aid to Gillaat's people, which often "disappeared." Under your and the Prime Minister's direction, we continued to gather intelligence and have an unofficial presence in the country during the coup and the civil war. Your office established diplomatic relations with the new government after the trials of "Baas" Gillaat and his associates were determined by us to have been fair and transparent.

We now want to update you on the progress of the Prins government and the situation in the country since the trials. Last year, a constitutional convention approved a new constitution that strictly limited the power of the executive branch, but is otherwise fair and democratic. Rights such as freedom of religion, speech, and press are enshrined in it, as well as the right of all citizens over 18 to vote. We believe it to be the foundation for a free Garifunya. Some pro-Gillaat forces opposed it, but overall the nation seems to approve of it.

On that note, despite the civil war and the trials of Gillaat's closest supporters, a substantial opposition to the new order still exists. The most prominent opposition is in the Patriotic Union party. This is a catch-all, broadly conservative party that is united more by anti-communism and support for Gillaat than anything else. Their presidential candidate obtained only eight percent of the vote in that election, but they hold thirteen of one hundred and thirty bicameral parliamentary seats and have been vociferous critics of the new government. The newspaper Fyet Garifunyaan (Garifunyan Pride), remains an important pro-Gillaat rallying point and strongly supports the Patriotic Union. New reports of thugs armed with guns and clubs terrorizing individuals in some rural areas and also in some urban neighborhoods have emerged. We have reason to suspect that pro-Gillaat forces as well as former members of the Jandaams (National Police) and the military are directing and organizing these. The reports are still scattered, but the government has not had an efficient response to them yet and they are a potential source of destabilization.

Also opposing the new government is the National Party, organized around the figure of Arjan Staal, presidential candidate and owner of the newspaper De Konigrijk (The Kingdom). The National Party has only eleven seats in the bicameral parliament, but De Konigrijk magnifies its influence. It used to be organized around racist whites that supported apartheid-style policies, but now has evolved into a racially mixed party that opposes Gillaat, Prins, and communism, and supports right-wing nationalism and racial separatism. They are a potential rallying point should some catastrophic event topple the Prins government. We believe that Staal may also have a hand in the formation of some militias, both black and white that have been blamed for incidents in racially mixed neighborhoods and also neighborhoods of immigrants, especially the burgeoning Hispanic population. The combination of these two parties, these two newspapers, and these militias are a particular problem for this new democracy.

On the left, the Communist Party, with nine parliamentary seats, has emerged as the other voice of the opposition to Prins. They accuse him of being a neoliberal and neocolonialist for his outreach to Western nations. Although Prins has pursued policies that would seem to be favorable to the Communists, including a massive public works program to build roads, bridges, schools, hospitals, and houses, among other things, they still oppose him and accuse him of not going far enough. The spending, which Prins assured the nation was temporary and limited, but has continued for nearly a year now, has slashed unemployment from 19.8% to 8.1% while pouring billions of giyldaars (AP 0.11) into the economy. Inflation has risen, as well as taxes, especially on the rich, which doesn't bode well for the economy or the stability of the country. In fact, Prins is now facing opposition from members of his own party (Democratic Revival) over the sustained spending. The Communists continue to call for nationalisation of sectors of the economy and confiscation of wealth from the extremely wealthy, as well as the severing of ties between Garifunya and countries such as the Netherlands, which they view as colonialist. They have also organized their own official Communist Party militias, which have clashed with the other militias we have described and attacked civilians and some foreigners as well.

Areas where the Prins government could stand to improve include the substantial black market, which exploded under Gillaat and has only declined slightly under Prins, and corruption issues. Democratic Revival and Prins ran on an explicitly anti-corruption platform, and have made good-faith efforts to eliminate it, including severe punishments for violators and safeguards such as recall elections for politicians. However, there are still many reports of corruption, both petty and more substantial, including a government minister who was just arrested for embezzlement. Bright Future, a left-wing party that grew out of youth activist opposition to Gillaat, has become a government watchdog, with protests occurring weekly if not daily, and even an official think tank has sprung up to criticize government wrongdoing.

We believe that with the destabilizing forces of the Patriotic Union, National Party, and Communist Party, as well as the side effects of Prins' economic policy and the continuing struggles against the black market and corruption, some intervention is necessary. We should make every effort to develop closer relations with Garifunya, including but not limited to increased diplomatic involvement, increased activity of Nova Anglican charities, more and better targeted foreign aid, and the establishment of stronger trade relations, perhaps through a bilateral trade agreement. This involvement is essential to the stability of the country and to some extent, the region. If Garifunya can become a strong, prosperous, democratic country, then it will be able to exert its own stabilizing influence on both the Caribbean and also in Central America. These are our recommendations at the Office of National Intelligence.

Sincerely,

Mark McKinney, Director of National Intelligence

Garifunya is an OOC puppet of Nova Anglicana, so I figured an RP from the perspective of Nova Anglicana would be appropriate as long as the topic was Garifunya

[Veldgouwen]

It was cocky, exactly in the way great literato’s had once come up with the word. The act of making a wild and boisterous gesture just for the act of doing so, to stroke your continuous need for self-confirmation. In all fairness, it was uncalled for, especially with the hospitality of the hosts in mind. Any regular crowd would have booed him off the pitch with every next touch of the ball and let’s be honest, it wasn’t as if he had had a ton of those. But for some peculiar reason, the mob got the taste of the style of the Veldies, as local reporters nicknamed them, so somehow Piet Masschelin got away with the teasing way with which he brought his finger to his lips when he headed home the second and, in hindsight, decisive goal.

Partially, it might have been because the stands realized it was a finger to the world. Not to his bench, where he had spent most of the opening game against his will, and certainly not to those lucky few who had spent their cash on an encounter between David and Goliath, with the sidenote that the giant happened to be the kid next door. Unfortunately for them, it seemed as if Goliath either had hit the town last night or was remarkably disinterested in defending his home honor.

Ever since the Bonesmen had emerged from the eternal mists – until further notice unrelated to the fog which took the last World Cup qualifiers by surprise – they had left analysts and managers equally appalled by the so-called Argånger ploy, a cunning mix between schoolyard tactics and bringing pressure play towards a whole new level, as if you would find a loophole in the rules of golf which allow you to fire the ball from a cannon. That team after team have grinded their teeth on the game plan of Coach Pythagoras makes it all the more implausible that Valkeniers came up with a genius master stroke, a moment of enlightenment which simply said that if you get in possession quick enough, there are huge spaces anywhere in the opposing half.

It can’t be that no one came up with that before, right?

Whether the pundit-turned-gaffer is the brightest mind of his generation or the home squad decided to press the snooze button on this confrontation, fact is that the success of the plan stood or fell with an energetic execution. No wonder that it made players come to the surface who prefer a flavor of football more reminiscent to the origins of the game – or at least those cultivated at this side of the water: a pastime where the war-related roots where still sensed, more specifically in the limbs of the warriors the day after.

In short, the sort of environment in which Carlos Deferme, who seemed engaged in a freestyle fight with Jones I, a few rounds of fisticuffs with Gulbrandsen and a weird hybrid of Veldgouwer-Roman wrestling with Grayse-Lennox at the same time, thrived and singlehandedly torpedoed the passing rate of Bonesea towards the depths of a low 60 percent. A game where a good pass was not the gentle interaction of two entangled spirits on the pitch, who outwitted the masses with the softest of touches but rather a capture, the act of grabbing yards of land into the territory of the opponent.

It asks men who walk on the pitch rolling up their sleeves and spitting in their palms, not boys who wiggle a finger to the air murmuring their prayers. As a logical consequence, Vreysen, Stalhof, Snoeks and Schaepdryver had given way to Troch, Liesmonts, Meganck and Masschelin, who possess the combined firepower of a tank battalion. The nimble legs of Van Baekel stood out in the team picture but he managed to be the discordant note that brought a pinch of genius to the symphony. Van Baekel acted as the butler who served dinner towards the hero of the night, Piet Masschelin, the gentle giant. A hungry, hungry giant, that is.

There is a shift in Veldgouwen football, not coincidentally occurring with our opening towards the international football. It is one in which cunning, speed, insight and skill are considered as lumps of gold in the dirt as even notoriously virile playing sides enjoy the touch that cuts open the opponent over a good old-fashioned shoulder charge. In this eclipsing world, Piet Masschelin came to the surface as an artifact of foregone glory. Raw and rough, with the shoulders of a miner in a Dickensian novel. Something of days gone past, the official decree declared, of an era on which we all like to muse and look back – but exactly nothing more than that. Look back over the shoulder like a stray dog left behind, or at least that’s what the glossy fashions dictate.

Of course Piet Masschelin didn’t silence a whole multiverse or just the Veldgouwer football scene with a finger. Tomorrow, the bigger story rolls on towards the horizon. But when his header turned the nets puffy, a part of that multiverse suddenly lost its politically correct voice and turned into the appreciating applause of an audience that found a connection across seas and planes of existence.

[Bonesea]

Group A
Bonesea 3–2 Averyickan City @ St. Leah’s, Spittalsea
United States of Devonta 0–1 Veldgouwen @ The Boldpark, Spittalsea

. Group A                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Veldgouwen                    3   2  1  0    3   0  +3    7
2 Bonesea                       3   2  0  1    6   5  +1    6
3 Averyickan City               3   1  1  1    5   3  +2    4
4 United States of Devonta      3   0  0  3    1   7  −6    0

Group B
Cossakastal 0–1 Equatorial Zeldaen @ 31-Park, Kirkevic
Garifunya 3–0 Savalen @ Stadion Vikinki, Spýta

. Group B                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Garifunya                     3   3  0  0    6   1  +5    9
2 Savalen                       3   2  0  1    7   5  +2    6
3 Equatorial Zeldaen            3   1  0  2    3   7  −4    3*
4 Cossakastal                   3   0  0  3    1   4  −3    0

Group C
Abanhfleft 5–2 Nordernius @ St. Tara Field, Hill o’ Tara
Kaboomlandia 2–0 Prusy Krolewskie @ Bonfire Hill, Leix

. Group C                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Kaboomlandia                  3   3  0  0    6   1  +5    9
2 Abanhfleft                    3   2  0  1   10   5  +5    6
3 Prusy Krolewskie              3   1  0  2    6   8  −2    3
4 Nordernius                    3   0  0  3    4  12  −8    0

Group D
Flardania 3–0 Juvencus @ St. Accrobán Lane, Skibereen
Space 2–5 Amazonesta @ Ness Cabin, Skibereen

. Group D                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Flardania                     3   3  0  0    9   2  +7    9
2 Amazonesta                    3   2  0  1    7   3  +4    6
3 Space                         3   1  0  2    9  13  −4    3*
4 Juvencus                      3   0  0  3    3  10  −7    0

Group E
Greater Vakolicci Haven 1–2 Schottia @ The Gun Wharf, Tane, Portsea
Revolutionary Nordskania 3–1 Drawkland @ Kunnallinen, Räystäspääsky, Suumna

. Group E                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Revolutionary Nordskania      3   3  0  0    9   1  +8    9
2 Schottia                      3   2  0  1    6   3  +3    6
3 Drawkland                     3   1  0  2    4   8  −4    3*
4 Greater Vakolicci Haven       3   0  0  3    2   9  −7    0

Group F
Barunia 3–1 Mercedini @ Stadion Taxhavn, Effersøe, St. Bernadine
Hicaña 1–2 Kalumba @ Den Brygge, Hammershavn, St. Bernadine

. Group F                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Barunia                       3   3  0  0   10   3  +7    9
2 Kalumba                       3   1  1  1    6   7  −1    4
3 Mercedini                     3   0  2  1    6   8  −2    2
4 Hicaña                        3   0  1  2    4   8  −4    1

Draw for the Round of 16

* Drawkland & Space qualify ahead of Equatorial Zeldaen on the fair play tie-breaker as described in the OP.

Rankings from the group stage

1Revolutionary Nordskania
2Flardania
3Barunia
4Garifunya
5Kamboomlandia
6Veldgouwen
7Abanhfleft
8Amazonesta
9Schottia
10Savalen
11Bonesea
12Averyickan City
13Kalumba
14Prusy Krolewskie
15Drawkland
16Space

Round of 16
R1Revolutionary Nordskania vs. Space @ 31-Park, Kirkevic, Vættr
R2Veldgouwen vs. Savalen @ The Boldpark, Spittalsea, Bonesea
R3Garifunya vs. Kalumba @ Stadion Vikinki, Spýta, Vættr
R4Abanhfleft vs. Bonesea @ St. Leah's, Spittalsea, Bonesea
R5Flardania vs. Drawkland @ Den Brygge, Hammershavn, St. Bernadine, Taxhavn
R6Barunia vs. Prusy Krolewskie @ Stadion Taxhavn, Effersøe, St. Bernadine, Taxhavn
R7Kamboomlandia vs. Averyickan City @ St. Tara Field, Hill o’ Tara, Scéalta Grinn
R8Amazonesta vs. Schottia @ Bonfire Hill, Leix, Scéalta Grinn

Bonesea & Savalen swapped to avoid Veldgouwen vs. Bonesea repeat of group match

Quarterfinals
Winners;
Q1R1 vs. R2 @ Stadion Vikinki, Spýta, Vættr
Q2R3 vs. R4 @ St. Leah's, Spittalsea, Bonesea
Q3R5 vs. R6 @ Stadion Taxhavn, Effersøe, St. Bernadine, Taxhavn
Q4R7 vs. R8 @ St. Tara Field, Hill o’ Tara, Scéalta Grinn

Semifinals
Winners;
S1Q1 vs. Q2 @ St. Leah's, Spittalsea, Bonesea
S2Q3 vs. Q4 @ Stadion Vikinki, Spýta, Vættr

[Flardania]

Josuke Ichikawa
Skibereen|Skoppa

---

The crowd in Skibereen was electric to say the least. The Kitsunes were blessed to have their entire group matches scheduled in one location and stadium as it made resting easier and easier for their supporters to come cheer the team on. It was a tough game against Amazonesta as they were no minnows having cut their teeth in the previous World Cup qualifiers and Baptism of Fire. A team with a lot of potential and just like the Kitsunes sought to use this tournament as an opportunity to secure some silverware. The game was quite frustrating as Kirishima barely had time to attack as the opposition made up for the difference in ability by shell shocking the Kitsune defense. Josuke smiled thinking about the hard work the back four and keeper were putting into the game.

After another counter attack failed the Kitsunes were blessed with a free kick. Josuke looked at Izumi patted his childhood friend Matsuoka on her bum. Given how much of an open society Kirishima was the average person wouldn't think much about the brief encounter. Perhaps the team couldn't keep their urges in check, was what non Kirishinans were thinking. However Josuke and the rest of the team knew otherwise. The team and national animal were not called the Kitsunes for nothing. Kirishinan people and by extension their team were cunning. That exchange by Sayo and Ako who both played in the Unified Sunrise Islands was a distraction. In the bizarre signs they went over during the half, the signal was that the cross was coming to him. Josuke looked over the Yabuta and Miyamoto both getting focused. Usually they were the targets and by being so....extra it was meant to be a greater distraction away from him.

Finally Izumi kicked the ball and as it flew Josuke moved into position and jumped he felt the ball make contact with his head. "Ouch!" he thought as it came at him harder than expected. Nevertheless Jouske held his form as he guided the ball with his head. Finally Josuke opened his eyes with a peek as the ball sailed passed the opposition keepers hands and banged the bottom of the crossbar before going in. Ichikawa's ears exploded along with the fans as he dashed towards the sidelines before being tackled from behind. It has been awhile but he once again was the team savior.

After the Game
Men's Locker Room
Skibereen|Skoppa

Usually the Men's locker room contained the whole team given how open the society was but as measure of sensitivity to Ai Takagawa who was not Kirishinan by blood the team was self segregated by sex. Ai was already more of a loaner so the team did not want to contribute to her being left out. That did not stop Sayo Matsuoka from entering Josuke locker room paying no mind to the guys changing nor did anyone pay Sayo any mind. To the team this was simply the purest form of team chemistry out there.

"Great job today Josuke-kun!" Matsuoka stated hugging him

"Thanks Say-" Josuke begun the reply before being doused in cologne.

"For Kamiya sake your sweaty!" Sayo stated. "I think you need an extra shower" Sayo added.

"Why is that?" Josuke stated ignoring her advise

"No reason, I'll just tell both our parents that you do not care to see them." Sayo stated sticking her tongue out.

"What!? Wait they're here!" Josuke exclaimed as he heard Yabuta laugh in the background. "Can it Jo!" Josuke playfully scolded.

"You have ten minutes or I'll tell them." Sayo stated as she sprinted out of the locker room and Josuke sprinted into the shower.

[Revolutionary Nordskania]

Indigo Wave

Chapter Three: Homeland

Beneath all the other major stories about the Nordskania conflict, there was one that was forgotten about that was about to head to the forefront of what was happening. It was a story that started a few hundred years ago, when the Valerians colonized a northwestern and southeastern island and, accidentally, created two new ethnicities over the years that were a combination between the Scandinavians and the Slavs. They would be known as the Nordskanians and Jugoskanians, and they would eventually have more Slavic blood than Nordic blood, while retaining a few Nordic Lower Valerian traits such as blue eyes. Eventually, Valerian imperial rule would cease and the islands would develop on their own and grow more separate by linguistic and cultural lines until they could be considered real homelands for the people that lived there.

Everyone knew the story of those two islands. Nordskania would become a successful capitalist republic before the Communist Party seized power and united it under the red flag. Jugoskania would cycle through governments and experiment with capitalism, socialism, and the ideologies in between them, but would fall to Muslim invaders only decades ago, when the Muslims from the far southern land of Eastern Kisote declared a holy war against the Christians to the north, who were their big rivals in both religion and trade. Jugoskania would become part of the Empire of Anglatia during the Second Imperial Crusade, which was called because Islam was a major threat to Valeria and because East Kisote had become far too big a threat to ignore.

Meanwhile, Nordskania would begin their cold war with Anglatia because of their distant cousins falling under Imperial rule, with the Empire given the task of repairing a broken economy and a country that was torn by the recent religious war and by the resistance to their last rulers. Still, both the Jugoskanian and Nordskanian people had islands to call their own, even if conditions weren’t always the best in them. There was a third group that descended from the Valerians, and that third group received the worst deal out of all of them.

They were known as the Vestanians because of their western position in both Nordskania and in relation to Valeria, and after a few hundred years of intermarrying with Valerians during the colonial days during the renaissance period, the Vestanians became a race that was closest to the Romanian and Hungarian ethnicities but also not too far from their Nordic ancestors. Many of them had blue eyes, and some of them had lighter hair because of their Scandinavian genes. Unlike the other two races that came from Valeria, the Vestanians didn’t have their own island. They were natives of Nordskania, but their population was now smaller than the population of the former colonizers.

There was Valeria for Valerians, Nordskania for Nordskanians, Jugoskania for Jugoskanians, but there was no Vestania for Vestanians. With the conflict in Nordskania heating up into a full blown war that would shape the future borders of the nation, there was a chance to change that. And there were also a group of people committed to changing that. The Vestanian Protection Forces was what they called themselves, but just calling them an ordinary militia was a lie. These people were like a paramilitary army that had a government attached, because they already had assembled the group of leaders for Vestania. They just didn’t have an actual country for them to rule in, yet.

Not yet, anyway. With the chaos in the country, the borders were in a constant state of flux. The Northern region was pushing southwards to make a power play on former communist land, while Pridnestrovia was stuck somewhere in the mountains around Sopova and attempting an offensive towards the State of Nordskania, who had turned Orelgrad into their fortress and were in the process of doing the same for Sopova. To the east of them, Ryakova was the home of the loyalists to the Nordskania Democratic People’s Republic, which had dropped the pretense of communism in exchange for Imperial support against the invading army. South of everything, the border of the Soviet Republic was like a red wall that was slowly being pushed back by the North, but that was slowly creeping towards the Pridnestrovian forces with the goal of nipping the invasion in the bud before they could steal territory from the new communist state, led by Marshal Andriychuk and General Niketas Boyko.

In the chaos, it seemed possible for the VPF to grab a few unprotected cities and take advantage of the Soviet overextension as the southern country stretched their army across the entire front to fight Pridnestrovia, the North, and the NDPR at the same time. There were weak spots in their formations, and after days of studying the recon that was available to them, the leaders of the VPF discovered which would be the best spots to create their country. To create Vestania. If Darya Zharkov could claim two cities and set up a country of her own that was based out of those two cities, they could do it too, after all.

“Fiergrad looks like the best place to form a capital,” stated Chief Lucius Covaci, the head of the military wing of the Vestanian Protection Forces. “It’s a town with room to expand, and eighty percent of the populace is Vestanian according to the last census before the North seceded. As far as location goes, it would put us to the south of the State of Nordskania, meaning that we may have a rival. However, the risk should be well worth it because of the mountain range to the north of the city, the one that acts as the border between the fascists and their enemies. That mountain range is doing a good job of protecting Sopova, and it can do the same for us if we decide that we aren’t afraid of taking a risk by putting our capital near the border.”

Prime Minister Ioan Diaconu wasn’t as sure about that plan, though he was eager to get a city to actually lead. “And what happens if Darya Zharkov decides that she doesn’t like having a rival to the south that will grow in strength as thousands of expatriates arrive to build up their new homeland? The northern area of the country and the regions around it belong to the Mountain Pact. I don’t believe that getting on the wrong side of that alliance is a good idea-”

“And where else are we going to set up? We can put the capital in Fiergrad and expand the city outwards as our brothers from abroad fly in to help us. To the southwest, the town of Duradino is sitting there unprotected, waiting for us to take it and bring it into Vestania. We make up ninety percent of the populace… They won’t put up a fight, and the hills to the east of the city provide another natural border that adds to the defensibility of the place,” explained Covaci. “We have a regiment’s worth of men waiting to go, and I suggest that we send all of them to Fiergrad, make a big show of force to scare off any rivals, and then send a battalion down to Duradino to expand our border and give us more resources.”

The Minister of Affairs, Stefania Izbasa, shook her head. “That will last a week before the Mountain Pact considers us a threat and steamrolls our two cities with their advanced tanks and planes and their well trained infantry. We’re going to have to fight no matter what… I’d rather face the Soviet Republic than the Mountain Pact, at least the Soviets don’t have a tech advantage over us. We’re both using Cold War era gear… The Northerners, that’s another story.”

Covaci stood up, turning to leave the planning room. “If you’re so concerned about another nation destroying us early on, than fix the problem. Find an ally or talk to the Mountain Pact and make sure that they won’t roll us over in the first few weeks. It’s your job, Stefania. You aren’t doing a very good job of it, so far.”

“And you’ve done a good job of yours?”

Covaci turned, folding his arms and standing by the door. “I started off with nothing, and now I have a regiment full of men that are willing to fight and die for a country that doesn’t yet exist. We had no equipment and no training at the start, and now we’re able to hold off the Soviets and continue to occupy their villages as we plan our next moves and work on bringing more Vestanians into the movement. What the hell have you done? Managed the internet pages and begged for foreign attention from the press?”

Stefania stood up, moving to get in the face of Covaci. “I’ve done plenty for our people-”

“What? What have you done? You’ve never carried a rifle. Never fought with the North to get out from communism. Never spent hours pondering the census results to figure out where we need to go next to recruit for the movement, and you’ve never driven for just as many hours to go somewhere only to find that a lot of our people would rather lay down and hide than join the fight for a nation,” snapped Covaci, giving her a shove. “Both you and Ioan have never experienced the truly hard part of being a member of this group, you’re just here to get the benefits when we finally do find our homeland. But you both act like you’re the most important people in this group, and you think you know everything-”

“I believe that Stefania just wanted to say that we should choose a less volatile area to try to establish a stable capital,” interrupted Ioan, putting a hand up.

“Where, Ioan? Where?” asked Covaci, spreading his arms in frustration. “You don’t know where! Because there isn’t a better place than the place that’s right in front of us! You don’t know any other cities that have natural protection that will make them easier to defend, that have a large Vestanian majority and that aren’t being occupied by the People’s Army or the North or the new NDPR! We have a golden chance right here in front of us, and all you people want to talk about is risks! That’s all I hear from you, you talk about risks and decide to sit here on your ass instead of getting up and doing something to create this country that you speak so highly about! You see… The North was like this one day, too. You want to know how they seceded and got their own country? They took risks! They rioted in Turbayov to kick the rebellion off, and that was a risk. They took up arms, and that was a risk. They called in foreign help, and that was a risk. You don’t get anywhere without taking risks, not in politics! Sometimes, I wonder if any of you care at all. Because at times like this, you don’t act like it.”

There was silence for the next ten seconds until Ioan spoke. “If you think going after Fiergrad is the right move, than let’s do it. You’re right. We aren’t going to get anywhere without taking risks… This profession is too tough for that.”

=====

In Ross, as the nation was gearing up to enter a wartime economy, and people were bracing for the first true war since the Second Imperial Crusade(the invasion of Patierre was so ridiculously one sided that it could barely be called a war), preparations were continuing for what would be a turning point in the region. The Empire of Anglatia couldn’t afford to have a hostile regime in Nordskania, and they also were wary about the island becoming a jumping off point to a bigger war that would lead to the entire imperium being thrust into conflict.

Emperor Colden was going over everything with Jonathan Blake, who was acting as the middleman between the military and the national leadership in these events. He wasn’t exactly too happy about what he was hearing. “The enemy has camped out in the mountains to the south of Sopova, and it looks like our forces are going to be locked in a defensive battle instead of taking the offensive,” Blake explained, pointing to a large map of Nordskania that was printed out on a table. “We do, however, have one strike group stationed in the Port of Turbayov, and it’s ready to hunt down any enemy ships that enter the area. Eastwards, our new allies from the NDPR are working on clearing Ryakova from the scavengers that have taken up residence there. The destruction is huge, and rebuilding will take a long time, but they should have a few military camps set up fully within the week as they continue their effort to expand back outwards into their old territory.”

“And if we decide to send more units from the Third Army, where will they set up?” Colden asked, looking the map over. “Our role should be active, not reactive. Taking the defensive isn’t good enough.”

“If we send another division, they would set up in Ryakova and go on the offensive to attack the Soviets from the north and the Pridnestrovians from their flank. All of their focus is going into holding the line near Sopova. If they keep their attention on that, we can smash them from the rear. If they split their army to face us, we have a good chance of pushing them past the mountains and backwards with a push from the Blue Army and our men that are based to the north of them,” said Blake. “Either way, attacking from east to west would be a good option in this case.”

“You’re also doing something to solve the aerial situation, I assume?”

Blake nodded. “We’re bringing in the anti air components of the division that’s already on the ground. Soon enough, the no fly zone that we talked about will be a reality. The Pridnestrovian planes are not a threat. Their technology is worse and soon they will be going against designated anti air units in addition to our own planes. Their infantry is more threatening than their planes right now.”

“Right. Well, I’ve decided on taking a public gamble to tell them to back off. I believe you’re the one to talk to about setting that up.”

“And that gamble involves what?”

Colden chuckled. “Let’s take one of our nuclear bombers and send it on a few rounds around the coastline in Pridnestrovia. Send some escort jets, too. It will remind them what they’re dealing with and give them some more motivation to back off. If they shoot at it, then that’s okay also. It will only strengthen our casus belli. Tell the Air Forces to send the plane out in the night, just in time to get there for the morning news cycle. They haven’t backed down yet, but with a little reminder of our capabilities, they might be convinced.”

“I’ll get on it,” Blake said, nodding and starting to walk towards the door. “And are we sending more forces to Ryakova to counter attack the Pridnestrovians like we just talked about? All of our advisors think it’s a good plan, we’re just waiting for the executive decision.”

“Go ahead,” said Colden. “Send not just one more division, but two. I’m ready to drive these bastards straight into the sea and get this over with… God forbid we have another Torsjo War on our hands, the kind of conflict that won’t go away. Unless you want it to turn into that, I suggest you talk to those under you about getting more aggressive. Somehow, I don’t think the enemy will roll over for us like Patierre did.”