[AEIA ONLY] [INVITE ONLY] Flashpoint Jaruga

[Rohst]

Klintstadt, Capital of Rohst
12:24 p.m.

"Mein Herr."

Feldmarschall (Field Marshal) Otto von Pfelz handed King Franz V the latest issue of DIE NATIONAL ZEITUNG, Wustenland's one and only national news resource. King Franz V had already been briefed on the situation well before the Wustenlanders had publically announced their scheme, but now time was of the essence, and the country could not afford to sit on the matter longer than it already had.

"The Wustenlanders know that Sudenland is de jure territory of Krieslen, despite all their hopes to fabricate claims, and Krieslen is now ours. Any other nation worth its salt and with a decent legal system will say the same. I understand the wisdom for not acting on them when they occupied the region, but this is now boiling over; they are not content with what we let them have. Their forces have already mobilized! I've sent orders to my officers to do the same, even the Krieslenian units absorbed into the military, but it was only a matter of time until--"

Franz V raised his hand to stop the Feldmarschall.

"Feldmarschall von Pfelz, please do not tell me what I already know." He let out a long, drawn-out sigh before continuing. "President Mansnecht thinks he is clever, yet he vastly underestimates the might of our forces. Their nuclear program is a ruse and an attempted deterrent, though the Wustenlanders know we would cause a worldwide incident should we use ours on them. Regardless, their threats are hollow and empty. Feldmarschall, I understand that despite the addition of the Krieslenian Armed Forces, Wustenlander numbers still outmatch us two-to-one, ja?"

"Affirmative, my liege. But keep in mind they are on the 'cutting edge' of the 1980s. The KSK, and even the KAF, sport some of the most modern weapons in the world. Best trained troops, might I add."

"So then we will have no problem defeating them. I will have von Redeln issue a statement immediately calling for war."

The Feldmarschall was shocked.

"Sire? So soon?! Our forces are not even finished mobilizing to the border. You understand the repercussions of this, correct?"

"I do. We will lure the Wustenlanders into Rohst, lulling them into a sense of an easy conquest. Their logistics are laughable at best and they will not see our forces encircling them into a pocket as they push inward."

"But milord, you would have their boots touch Rohstian soil?"

The King smirked.

"Let them come. We shall wait for them with open arms."

The Kingdom of Rohst
Königreich der Rohst

---

To President Gottfriend Mansnecht,

An impending declaration of war stands following your nation's recent military actions towards the Kingdom of Rohst and its sovereign territories. Should a resolution not be met, the states of Wustenland and Rohst will be considered, as per rule of international law and political practice, henceforth at war.

Our demands are as follows:

[] Immediately evacuate all Wustenlander military personnel from sovereign Rohstian territory, including the province of Sudenland, de jure to the Kingdom of Rohst.
[] A debt owed to Rohst of 100 billion KM.

Should such criteria be accepted, risk of conflict shall be avoided.
Your government has until 12:00 to respond, or else it shall risk war.

Regards,
King Franz V of Rohst

[Wustenland]

The morning was humid.
A thin mist had began to cover the Jaruga valley, limiting visibility to its basin. The hilltops in the far distance to the south couldn't be made out clear enough to give an accurate line of sight.
Sebastian sighed. What if they had an army, simply hiding over the hill, ready to ambush? It was an interesting theory, to be certain. But recon intelligence suggested the minor force which had been stationed in the Jaruga had already been wiped out, and the vast majority of Rohstian forces had been demobilised as resistance died down in the occupied territories.
"Let's hope our spy drones and radar can at least see through this shite." said Horst. Horst was a good comrade, good machine gunner to and an even better drinking partner. Seb and Horst had spent many late nights in the clubs and bars of Schmendorf, reserved only for a special few in Wustenlander society. Once though they had both escaped on a drinking trip to the nearby woodlands. Both spent hours shouting slurs aimed at country's leadership, most notably Gottfried Mansnecht, the self proclaimed 'Reichsmarshal', more like 'Scheissemarshal' they had joked. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one fed up with their sorry state of affairs. The rest of the night had been spent dreaming about the future, where they could go, to Vestrim or Asura where people had this thing called a 'vote' and could actually select who ran the country. Eventually they set on Malouines, a former Midrasian colony in the far east of Rennekka. They would get a shack out on the plains and live 'off of the fat of the land'. If only this damned war hadn't got in the way.
"Seb, you ok?"
"I'm fine, it just this damned war."
"Tell me about it, I'm just glad they stationed us here on the garrison rather than shipping us off to the front."
It had been a relief when the Oberkommando had announced his division for garrison duty, at least now he could sit back behind the butt of a machine gun on the other side of the river. At least the pounding of the artillery in the background would give him due warning as to when the Rohstians would be coming.
"They say the army has taken Mittelburg now."
"Really?" He was surprised they managed to get that far. "What if the Rohstian's just let them take it, you know, lure them into a trap?"
"You think command hasn't been planning for a war like this for over eighty years to let that happen? C'mon I know the bastards up in Schmendorf are arseholes at best, but they know how to plan a war. I'm guessing they'll want to go far enough to humiliate the Rohstian army on the field, turn a few heads on the international scene, then act all noble in the peace process, with a bit of a downpayment to Klintstadt for the 'gift' of the Jaruga."
"What's so great about this pile of dirt anyway? Command just want another river to go fishing in on the weekends?"
"Its about prestige, and the fact that this used to be theirs before the Rennekkan war. A lot of the grandaddies here would still call themselves Elbian."
"But its Wustenlander now, that's like a Terncan calling himself a citizen of the ASU."
"Call it what you want, its just a rose by any other name. Command may be blindsided by their ideology, but some of the people here actually truly want this. I'm just surprised those cosy folks over in Asura or Vestrim didn't put more pressure of Rohst after they just rolled into Krieslen."
"We do things differently 'round here."
"I found some kind of Asuran newspaper one time, some foreign official must have left after a 'regulated' night on clubs, said something like, we Rennekkans still think its the year 1200."
"At least we've got medicine that actually works."
The Captain in charge of the garrison had taken note of the ongoing conversation.
"You two, quiet! The fucking King of Rohst could hear you all the way in Klintstadt the way you're talking. Back to work!"
"Yes sir!"
As the Captain moved on, all Seb could do was stare into the mist and daydream.
"Maybe if the army get to Anmark they'll actually get some form of negotiation going, and we can head on back?"
"You wish, damn Rohstians wont give up so easily."

---

The room was quiet, lit only by the gas lamps on the walls. He always was a traditionalist, seemingly wanting to go back to a time before ours thought Rudolf as he awaited to be called.
"Do you have any idea how long it will be?"
"He's a busy man now, you understand."
A VERY busy man indeed. Being the great control freak he was, no doubt he had his hand in every single minute detail, down to the very direction the wind must be blowing for his plans to be enacted.
"The Reichsmarshal will see you now."
The servant opened the old oak doors into a dimly lit room, the storm outside visible through the twelve foot high trisected window. In front of the window was a desk, and an man sitting in his black leather chair, ogling the storm outside. Three men standing in the room were already in conversation, the seated man silently listening.
"Our forces successfully reached Mittelburg at 06:00 hours sir, at the current rate of progress, we believe we could be at Anmark in a week."
"We will need time to reinforce and resupply however. I suggest we bunker down and wait for our spies in Rohst to give us a more detailed timetable for their mobilisation."
"We can't delay, every second we waste, is one where the Rohstians could be gathering a greater force, we need to use our numbers whilst we have them."
"It's a trap." The seated man finally spoke, still turned away from the now stunned crowd.
"A, trap sir?"
"Of course, the Rohstian's think us stupid, they underestimate us. My contacts have suggested they wish to draw us in, cut off our supply and massacre us there and then."
The room stood silent, the three men eyed one another before finally one spoke out. "So, what do we do then sir?"
The man in the chair never flinched, but there was an aura about him, indicating a smirk growing on his face.
"We play into their hand, make them think they're making progress, cutting off our supply, and then let them fail. Now go, I have a meeting with Rudolf to attend to."
As the three men began to leave the room he spoke up once more. "Adolf, can you stay here for a moment, I'm sorry Rudolf, but this is an important matter, it will only take a moment."
As Rudolf turned to leave the room, the voice of the seated man was clear. "Ah, Adolf, please take a seat, it will only take a moment to tell you what we do here in Wustenland to Rohstian spies..."
That time I closed the oaken door was the last time I ever saw the second man. They say the dungeons below the castle reach five stories underground.
Nobody knows how low the oubliette goes however.

[Rohst]

Outskirts of Anmark, Jaruga Valley
9:59 p.m.
One week after the start of the war

"Sir, I heard from Sergeant Karlomann in logistics that we already have special forces guys operating in the field against them."

"You heard something you weren't supposed to hear, lieutenant. There's no comment to be made about that."

"I suppose you're right, sir. Karlomann also mentioned that we have spy-spooks in Schmendorf, too. Right under Mansnecht's hairy nose."

"The Sergeant has a big mouth."

"Not as big as Mansnecht's nose."

Both officers let out a small chuckle, which lightened the suspense a little. They knew they were about to get chewed out by their superior.

The two men sat in the principal's office of a former elementary school, now retrofitted into a military H.Q. The door creaked open, and their whispering was drawn short. Kommandant Leopold Richter stepped into the room with jackboots squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. Framed pictures of the academy's head posing with both educators and students were replaced with local maps and hand-drawn battle plans. Both men jumped up to a firm salute.

"At ease" the Kommandant said. Kapitan Goering and Lieutenant Mannsfeld sat back into their seats. Richter took his on the other side of the desk.

"It appears that your men were underprepared, Goering." The disappointment dripping from the Kommadant's words shot a verbal dagger into Goering, who now shifted in his seat. "This reflects quite poorly on the integrated Krieslenian forces."

"Then if I may speak freely," his Ostlander accented-Almannisch at a tone slightly higher pitched than normal, "the Wustenlanders knew all of our positions. Each and every one. We had more wounded than we knew what to do with within hours of the first shots being fired."

"That doesn't make up for the fact that your orders were to hold position until reinforcements arrived. We let the Wustenlanders walk straight into Mittelburg, and your men let them take Keuper shortly after."

"It was either stay or die, sir. I cannot serve the realm if I am dead."

Richter sighed, but he knew Goering was right. The office fell silent, sans the quiet thudding of artillery pieces firing in the distance. All three men reflected on the fact that the Wustenlanders would be in Anmark by the end of the week.

"Sir, command said that we're supposed to let them take Anmark. We're even supposed to let them take the entirety of Jaruga." This time it was the lieutenant speaking. "What do you recommend we do? Just pull our forces out as soon as we see them coming?"

"And look like cowards?" The Kommandant's face grew grim. "Nein."

"Then we shall make them fight tooth and nail for this city before we retreat" Goering affirmed. "Or until more men arrive."

"I'm skeptical if you'll actually do just that, Captain. This time, I expect your men to hold. The. Line. Because of your actions, you put your kameraden in the other units at risk on the Eastern flank, and forced them to retreat as well. Today, our reinforcements have arrived, and they are prepared to hold this city. And this time, I expect you and your men to do the same without running away with your tails tucked between your legs, do you understand? That kind of... nonsense may've been okay back in Krieslen, but you are a Rohstian now. Act like it. You too, lieutenant. I cannot have my officers acting as poor models to the troops. Shape up or I will shoot you both myself" The two men nodded in unison.

"Now, with that said, it is getting late. I will bid you both a good night, and wish you luck with the preparations tomorrow."

Both officers sprang up from their chairs and snapped into the iconic two-fingered Rohstian salute. A crisp tension was given when they released from their pose.

As the two men walked out of the office, a fresh-faced corporal walked in, handing Richter a file with documents inside. One of them was an image of a brutally tortured man, seemingly beaten and cut to pieces. At the bottom, written in sloppy handwriting, LEUSCHNER, ADOLF. Again, the Kommandant let out a sigh. There was no other way for the KAF's positions to be known, but it's likely that if Leuschner spilled any information about the Army's operations in the area, things were going to get messy very quick. He pulled the secure-connection phone from his desk and began placing a call.

[Wustenland]

The air was cold, abnormal for the Jaruga valley at this time of year. Still, a hazy mist and light rain was still warmer than most summers in Lhedwin or Slavia.
Sebastien still eyed the distance, machine gun still at the watch. Horst was busy milling in the background. The commander had him on a number of side duties for apparent 'disobedience' over the past few days. Still, anything was better than being on the front lines.
Recent news was that the army had managed to take Anmark, but were facing heavy resistance in holding the city. The recent news of Volgaria's actions in the Columbian sea also raised a number of eyebrows. Recent airstrikes had all but crippled coastal defences. It didn't help that the navy was still tied up harassing the Rohstians to the west. Command had recently called for front line troops to withdraw in an attempt to move a number to cover the northern flank. Apparently, conscription laws had also been relaxed to bolster numbers for the home guard in case the Volgarians attempt a naval assault.
"Still daydreaming are we?" sighed Horst, finally finished with his duties as groundskeeper.
"Commander asked me to watch the hill, so that's what im to do," Seb replied.
"Front line is near a hundred miles off, I doubt you'll get any Rohstian troops here any time soon."
There was something suspicious about Horst movements, his eyes glanced back at the trenches and his voice had an aura of secrecy to it.
"There's something I have to tell you Seb," said Horst. "They're sending us to the front."
"What?!" Seb responded as quietly as possible when one was both enraged and confused at once. "I thought we were to hold the Jaruga and that was that."
"Oh, it gets worse," Horst butted in. "The reports command have been sending, they don't tell half the story. It's a bloodbath out there I tell you. What's worse that 'incident' with Volgaria, the navy is crippled, it's only a matter of time before they launch a ground invasion."
"I....I...don't want to go Horst."
"Neither do I."
Both men stood silent for several moments, wondering what the consequences of their next words would be.
Seb stared once again into the distance, the thickening mist now bringing with it a sense of imminent despair.
"You know what we have to do," Seb finally replied.
"Are you crazy?! You know what the punishment is for desertion!"
"And you want to end up as a charred corpse in Anmark? You remember what we said don't you, about moving away. Malouines wasn't it? Well you only get one chance in life Horst and I don't want to lose this one.
I don't want to lose you."
Horst remained silent, possibly calculating a plan of action, or going over the various torture methods the Commander would utilise after they would attempt to flee.
"We're not being sent until Monday," Horst finally said.
"I have lookout duty this Sunday night, it's the perfect opportunity."
"You sure about this?"
"Positive."
"Then I guess its settled."

---

The palace was strangely quiet for mid-day, the usual bustle of civil servants or dignitaries was nowhere to be seen. Only the secretary remained within the lobby.
"May I speak with the Reichsmarshal?" Rudolf queried the only other being within the room.
"I'm afraid the Reichsmarshal will not be seeing anybody today."
"Not even me? His closest adviser?"
"I'm afraid not Rudolf. Specific orders, and when you work with the Reichsmarshal for long enough, you of all people should know. You do not second guess the man."
There was clearly an impasse. This wasn't like Mansnecht. Something had clearly happened. What was it? The situation in the north worse than suspected? Anmark had fallen? Tyrnova had joined? A coup attempt...Possibly? The man was always overly paranoid, even around his closest advisers.
"I'm going in" Rudolf stated.
"What?!? You can't...express orders." Exclaimed the secretary, clamouring out of her seat to escort Rudolf out of the room. "You know what will happen to you? What will happen to me?!?"
"Its a risk i'm willing to take."
Rudolf entered the room, the Reichsmarshal himself sat strewn in his seat, a shell of man. Clearly affected by a lack of sleep. Mansnecht didn't even acknowledge Rudolfs entry into the room at first. Taking the seat opposite the desk, Rudolf eyed his boss.
"Reichsmarshal? Are you ok?"
No reply.
"Hello?"
Still nothing.
"This is a waste of time." Rudolf stood in an attempt to leave the room.
"Sit!" ordered the man at the desk, spit emanating from his dried out mouth. "I'll not have no traitor see me in this state."
"Traitor? Sir, i'm your closest adviser, you've known me for decades, why would I betray you?"
"Woman!" growled the Reichsmarshal. "Close the doors."
The secretary rushed to respond, slamming shut the oaken doors to seal the room from its surroundings.
"You're like vultures you're kind aren't you? Sitting in the shadows, waiting for the prey to get tired, weak and pathetic. Then you take it all don't you, what a great victory! Preying off a feeble old soul."
"Sir, I don't know what you have heard, but I have no knowledge of any coup attempt."
"Liar! You know it all don't you. You disgust me Rudolf, don't even have the balls to admit it to my face, go on then, tell me!" The Reichsmarshal presented a revolver from one of the desk draws, laying it on the table. The truth was Rudolf knew nothing of a coup, sure there were murmurs in the upper command, but nothing like what Mansnecht was implying.
"I know nothing Sir."
"Liar!"
"I'm sorry Sir."
"Well, just know this, if i'm going down, the rest of them are coming with me." Mansnecht presented a briefcase on the table.
"What...what is that sir?"
"Oh Rudolf, a man has to keep some secrets doesn't he? Well let me tell you. Our little nuclear program may be nothing like the Rohstians, but I tell you it's still enough to kill a couple of million before I go down myself."
"You're insane sir."
"Am I? I may be but small, but I will die a colossus. Think of it, if we fire ours, the Rohstians would have to respond, then the Midrasians, and the Terncans, the Sudinese. World War, the world's end, brought about by one man."
"I can't let you do that sir."
"I knew it! Traitor all along! I'll see you get a seat right next to Adolf in the oubliette. Guards!"
Rudolf knew not what he did next, what impact his split second judgement had. But mere seconds later, he stood revolver in hand, and the corpse of a once trusted boss...a friend perhaps? Lay strewn in a high leather chair, blood gushing from his chest.
...
"Sir, sir, is everything all right? What was that noise?" inquired to secretary.
...
...
"Sir?"
...
...
"Everything is fine Helga. I'll have the guards deal with this.... this....traitor."
...
"Of course Reichsmarshal."

[Wustenland]

Nobody quite knew how it all happened.
Some would say it all took place at once, whilst others swore it took time for all the news to truly filter through.
No doubt, what was certain now however was that Wustenland, a once proud nation, sandwiched between the new powers of Rennekka was little more than a shell of its former self.
Historians will no doubt point to the fall of the Elbian Confederation after the Great Rennekkan war of the 20s though as the cause of Wustenland's current woes. The nation had never truly bounced back after being torn asunder. Now, the destiny of its people was to be left with the circling vultures pressing at the borders. Would they work out an amicable solution, or would they go to war with each other now for their piece of the pie, all the while facing the brunt of guerrilla attacks and sabotage.

The death of the Reichsmarshal had been the first news to filter through. A suicide was what the muttering where. Nobody knew for sure however.
The second news was the intervention of Volgaria and Tyronova, no doubt unswayed by the lofty bribes the Reichsmarshal had been sending throughout the past few years when his country displayed its soft underbelly.
The final news was the disaster at Anmark. Entire divisions, wiped out. Children, conscripted to fight. It was perhaps the final straw.
The army had broken and with it, the new Reichsmarshal's authority. Now new factions sought to seize the power once held by the National Party.

---

The day was still young, yet in spite of this the sky glowed with a red radiance. A storm was coming.
"Red sky at morning..."
"Yeah, Seb we all know the rhyme, c'mon if we want to cross the border to Vvarden we have to get going."
The bustle of the morning was nothing unusual, everybody had stopped looking for deserters now after the army collapsed. Their primary concern now was just hunkering down for when the inevitable Rohstian or Tyronovan armies arrive. Or looking out for the militia death squads that now roam around the country...
"Do you know who owns this land now?" asked Horst in a paranoid tone.
"I think the army still has this land, but I heard the Unionists are moving in. I think the Communists are mostly around the north-west last time I heard."
"Well, its get executed by the army for desertion, or wait around until the Unionists start gunning down anyone who doesn't agree with them. And I for one, don't want to be in this city when either event happens."
"He said he's be here any minute."
As the two continued to wait on the sidewalk, a crowd had begun to gather across the street around some form of preacher. Cheers had begun to fill the air.
"And we brave Wustenlanders shall never be divided by torn asunder by these northern brutes. We Wustenlanders remain strong in the face of adversity. But now there is only one man who is worthy of leading us onto the next era. The King of Rohst, praise his name is the one rightful ruler of Wustenland and all of Almannia!"
"Horst, I think we should leave...now..."
"Wustenland is but one and indivisible, and as part of this new Almannic Empire, we will drive the northern barbarians from our borders and bring about a new golden age for Rennekka."
A small military patrol had taken notice of the preacher and his crowd. Things were about to go south...fast.
"There he is, the car!" cried Seb, pointing to the rusting red hatchback approaching. "C'mon we need to get out of here."
Less than a second later, pandemonium had gripped the streets, as the frenzied crowd piled onto the small battallion, egged on by the overzealous preacher. Gunfire reigned across the streets as unionist fighters piled to take out the military.
"Get in now!" cried the man in the car, beckoning to Horst and Seb.
Dodging the ricocheting fire, both piled into the car which sped away at the first possible moment.
"That was close," sighed Horst in relief. "You okay?"
Seb looked down at this shirt, stained a dark red colour.
"No."

[Rohst]

Checkpoint Echo-three, near the Rohst-Vvarden border
10:31 a.m

Unterwachtmeister Ackermann was smoking a cigarette when the beat-up little hatchback bumbled up to his checkpoint. Groaning, he left his air conditioned office to approach the vehicle on the road. Usually a car like this would pass though with a quick check and without much hassle, but there was something off about this group passing through. The issue raising the most red flags was the fact that there was a guy sitting in the back wheezing like he was about to die. The other was that the driver spoke with a Wusten dialect. Obviously this was not going to be a routine pass through.

"Grüß dich. Liscence, passport please."

The man in the drivers seat nervously glanced at him. The one in the passenger seat was staring, wide-eyed and distraught.

"Licence and passport, please." Ackermann repeated himself in Vvardisch for good measure, though none of these men wore masks. The guy in the back's wheezing grew increasingly laboured.

"S-sorry. I, uh." The man driving the vehicle shifted, but did not produce either. "Sorry."

"Euh. Okay." He whipped out a pen and notepad. "Names, please."

"Yessir. My name is Max. Maximillian Filip Schwarz. This is Horst Gruber. And he's... Sebastian Mueller."

"Your friend in the back, Mueller, does he require medical atten--"

The Lance-watchmaster noticed a stark crimson colour leaking between the lad's fingers. He immediately radioed to his senior officer for medical support, then, unslinging his rifle, he instructed all men to exit the vehicle. Things got increasingly tense when he saw one of the men getting out wearing Wustenlander combat boots, meaning a group of the enemy drove straight into his checkpoint. Groups of deserting Wusten soldiers disguised as civilians hadn't been unheard of over the past week or so, but Ackermann was not expecting this.

---

Outskirts of Anmark, Jaruga Valley
3:59 p.m.

"Karlomann said somebody shot him."

"What else did he say?"

"That it wasn't one of ours. Either suicide or a coup d'etat. Neither the Volgarians or the Tyronovans claim involvement."

"Pardon my Midrasian, Lieutenant, but how the fuc--"

The captain was cut short. The Kommandant entered the room and the two officers snapped into a two-fingered salute. After saluting back, Richter sat down.

"Leutnant Mannsfeld, firstly I would like to congratulate you on the official integration of your forces under Rohstian command. Your new uniform is quite fitting. Secondly, I would like to commend you and your men for your heroic efforts during the Battle of Anmark, Kapitan Goering." The young officers continued standing emotionlessly at attention.

"At ease." The two men took their seats.

"Mein Herr, thank you."

"It's my pleasure. You boys served the realm well these passed few weeks. The Wustenlanders were in complete disarray, and our forces were able to completely crush them. You two played a brilliant role in that."

"Again, thank you milord, but we should discuss why exactly they were in disarray. The Leutnant here says that Mansnecht either offed himself or was offed by someone else -- someone that wasn't our own."

"Indeed, Goering. We're watching the Wusten regime collapse before our very eyes yet don't fully understand why. Evidence is pointing towards the latter, but--"

There was a knock at the door. The Kommandant called the guest in, who was revealed to be a long-faced, young corporal with a bloody bandage covering his eye.

"Sir." The lad snapped into a clean salute. "Another group of Wustenlander deserters has been apprehended near Kleiderstadt, on the border."

"And? What is so special about this that you're notifying me, Hoegaader?"

"They said more Unionists are rising in Wustenland. Militiants, the like. In fact, they've been quite bold and are requesting our direct aid. Sergeant Karlomann said they have plans to assist us in taking the capital."

"The Rohstian Army, working with guerrillas to take Schmendorf?"

"Jawohl, mein Herr."

"That is... Interesting. Tell the Sergeant to meet me in twenty minutes, in my office. I need more details."

The corporal assumed a salute and exited the office. Richter turned to the other men in the room.

"Well, it appears our meeting shall be cut short. I need to notify the King. In the mean time, I want the both of you to report to the H.Q. Quartermaster."

"Why, sir?"

"You're receiving promotions. Now out of my office. Schnell schnell."

[Rohst]

Ferbortt, Wustenland, Red Zone
01:12 p.m.

Oberleutnant Patrik Mannsfeld peeked around the chipped corner of what used to be a house, pieces blown away from some earlier skirmish that transpired on this street. It looked quiet -- clear even. So clear in fact that there had to be Wustenlanders laying wait in ambush. He'd be in this sort of situation that it was almost routine at this point, and turned back to the ten men in his section scattered behind him.

Earlier in the day, the Wustenlanders dropped some type of chemical artillery shells on the city, not only bombing it to bits, but leaving everything dusted in some type of powder that greatly irritates the skin and eyes upon contact. Fortunately the Ferbortt was evacuated of its civilian populace long before the KSK came proudly storming in, and the chemical shelling was thankfully nonlethal, if not a great annoyance to the troops and an even larger headache for command and logistics to operate around it. All the men were wearing gasmasks and protective layers under their BDUs.

Mannsfeld's objective was to clear the neighbourhood so supplies and a forward operating base could be moved further up the front. His was one of the four teams in the platoon sweeping this area. Gunshots could be heard to the east and west, yet none were occuring around him. He continued silently observing the street ahead of him. No movement. Squinting his eyes, he toggled his radio.

"Blue team, find a position where you can cover the street. Red team, prepare to bound across, we'll cover. On my go."

There was shuffling behind him as his men snuck into various positions. One man slid into a artillery crater. Another behind the sedan next to it.

"Go!"

The members of red team sprinted across the street. Shortly after, gunfire opened up on them from the building down the road. The Wustenlanders were hiding in wait indeed, and from the sheer volume of lead pouring from their direction, they must've had a heavy machine gun perched on the second floor of the largest house at the end of the T intersection. Blue team returned fire in equal force, the automatic rifleman returning suppressive fire.

"CONTACT! WHITE HOUSE, END OF ROAD!"

Gunshots blew up dust where they made contact with the road and pieces of cover. "SET!" One of the corporals yelled over the comms channel. All five men were accounted for on the other side of the street, and they were returning fire.

An exchange in fire continued for another thirty seconds. A few more bullets ricocheted off the corner where the Oberleutnant was hiding. He slid back around to reload and glanced at his men across the street. Whilst firing, one of them was thrown to the ground from getting hit. Just before he thought about writing a KIA letter to some boy's parent's, the soldier rolled over behind a chunk of a house and looked around. He saw the Lieutenant staring, and gave a resolute thumbs up to officer watching him. Kevlar was a helluva invention.

"RADLER, WHAT IS YOUR STATUS? OVER."

"GREEN, SIR. OVER."

At this point, the shooting contest was a stalemate. No clear winner had appeared, tet. There was too much rubble in the alleys behind the house to try flanking, so the lieutenant decided to have someone check on the other side.

"KLEINER, SCHMIDT. YOU TWO. CHECK AROUND AND ATTEMPT TO FLANK. HARTT, GET AN GW-55 IN THAT FUCKING WHITE HOUSE."

"AFFIRM."

"JAWOHL."

After periods of reloading their weapons, both section automatic riflemen unleashed hell on the Wusten position. Not necessarily aiming for anyone in particular, but just to keep heads down. The grenadier fired a grenade directly on the MG position, but after maybe fifteen seconds of silence from it, it opened fire again. The guys behind the house scurried off looking for sweeter angles on the target. The two story house at the end of the street was a hotbed of incoming fire.

"Sir! We have a good position on the second story of the red hou--FUCK ARMOURED VEHICLE APPROACHING EAST, APPROACHING DUE EAST. HOW COPY." Without missing a beat, Mannsfeld's orders were clean and concise.

"SOLID COPY. LEHRER. PREPARE A.T."

"PREPARING."

Sure enough, an armoured personnel carrier rolled up into the middle of the street. It looked terrifying.

"TARGET SPOTTED! GIVE ME RANGE!"

"RANGE! 165 METRES!"

"PANZERSCHRECK PREPARED. CLEAR BACKBLAST!"

"BACKBLAST IS CLEAR!"

"FIRE IN THE HOLE, FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

A loud thwooump was heard, and a streak of light went from the missle launcher into the APC. There was a crack and then a massive, cinematic explosion. The Wusten gunfire continued for a few more seconds, then completely died.

"GOOD EFFECT ON TARGET."

Because of the random ceasefire, Mannsfeld took a moment to assess the situation. All of his men were accounted for, their chirping on the local comms was clear. But now the question was raised -- why did they stop shooting? Were the Wustenlanders falling back to a better position? What was going on?

"Hold fire!" The men stopped peppering the windows and doorways of houses the Wustenlanders were firing from.

The section sat in their positions alert for any threat. Perhaps the Wustenlanders were attempting to flank them. Or maybe there was another scheme. Just then, the front door of the house slowly opened, and a arm appeared. It was brandishing a white cloth was wildly waving it about.

"I capitulate! We capitulate!" echoed down the street.

Hartt's voice sneered on comms. "Sir! They're trying to surrender!"

Cautiously, the lieutenant brought his team further up the street. Red team was still watching in case anything fishy happened from afar. Soon enough, blue team was stacked up against the house.

"Put your arms down! Surrender your weapons." Moments after he said that, shuffling was heard inside. A rifle flew out one of the second story windows. Suddenly, a bunch more and even a few grenades too. One grenade in particular landed near the lieutenant's feet. Made his heart skip a beat until he saw the pin sticking out of it.

"We don't want to fight any more! We've had enough, gods damnit!"

"Exit the building with your hands up!"

"We have wounded inside! Somebody must tend to them!"

Mannsfeld sighed, the breath leaving his respirator was noisy.

"Blueteam! Entering left!"

The soldiers sweeped the building.

"Stairs right!"

The Wustenlanders were all unarmed, their hands in the air save for the soldiers tending to the wounded. Some of them had short trenchcoats on, and they all wore large, head concealing respiration masks. Or at least the lieutenant thought he saw trenchcoats. As they were rounding up the surrenderees, Mannsfeld put Corporal Radler on the Wusten wounded. He noticed some of the soldiers appeared unusually short to be Wusten stormtroopers, until he maid a haunting realization that chilled his soul.

Some of the Wusten soldiers were children. By the gods.

He took a moment to recover. They were all scared, wide-eyed behind their masks, huddled together and not knowing what to do. He noticed some of the other blue team members becoming shaken as well. It was horrifying, and then he realized he heard sobbing from upstairs. Some of the wounded must have been children too. Gods, it was horrific. He asked who was the youngest of the group, and after a moment of silence, a shaky voice raised up."

"Edmund. He's twelve."

Gods! The lieutenant was in disbelief. Child soldiers. This is nonsense that happens to Arabekhi children or in Sheera, not in Almannic lands and places. Gods almighty, the war had to stop.

The man leading them was one of the wounded, Roland Gurz, was the opposite from his "men." He was sixty-two years old. A veteran from some previous conflict. After the medic treated him, he explained how army and the political force behind them was collapsing. Hell was being raised further in Wustenland, near the capital, where the last fleeting pieces of power reigned. The Wustenlanders were so severely disorganized they were recruiting "rapid response Volksturm teams" such as his to lay traps for the enemy. They were school children given three days of weapons training and sent to the front. It wasn't even a manpower issue, their command just had no idea what on Aeia it was doing.

-----

Mannsfeld learned a great deal, still felt shocked when he returned to the barracks. Shortly after laying down on his bunk, a knock was heard at his door. The Kommadant was requesting a meeting with him. He didn't want to go.

[Rohst]

Klintstadt, Rohst, King Franz' Royal Office
3:44 p.m.

King Franz V sat in his office throne, stroking his magnificent beard whilst pondering the best course of action for this second "Wustenland Situation" coming to his attention. He had just gotten off a secure connect with Feldmarschall von Pfelz, in charge of the theatre. The men had reached Schmendorf and fighting had already broken out. Despite a formal request for a surrender, whoever was currently behind the wheel of Wustenland was having none of it. Mansnecht is dead, the king mused, but the Wustenlanders are so tight and paranoid we can't sneak anyone in to see what's going on.

Unsurprisingly, many of the Wusten forces were either defecting or surrendering almost en masse, but perhaps something even more startling was that the civilian populace were actively welcoming the invading Rohstian forces as their saviours. Not their liberators, they did not desire to have their own country, but as saviours and new their ruler. There are Almannic Unification parades were going on in captured towns, public events celebrating the oncoming Rohstian victory and even militiant groups rising to help fight back against the forces that kept them in stranglehold all their lives. It was absolute shame that Almannic blood was being shed, but King Franz V was indirectly helping these people and they were showing their loyalty in return. Such interesting times.

While being lost in though, the secure line klingled again at him. This time it was Kommandant Richter, with express command from von Pfelz, to contact the King directly. The Battle for Schmendorf was progressing quickly but brutally. Since there were (Almannic) civilians living in the city, there was no mass artillery barrages or airstrikes, firebombings and the like to crack open Wustenlander defences, but swift actions being taken by the mechanized infantry units and armoured brigades were breaking through enemy lines. Sans Ferbott and Rugern, Rohstian forces were walking into the cities with Wusten troops throwing their weapons at their feet. It was almost ironic to see such a war-focused nation give up so easily, but many troops saw the weariness in the prisoners' eyes. The only really loyal portion of the Wustenlander Armed Forces that was left was the Honour Guard, who were fighting tooth and nail in attempts to stop the inevitable. Accordinng to the commander, it wouldn't be long before Rohstian troops were kicking in the door to the Bundestag. Special Forces were preparing as they spoke to secure the building and bring an end to Wusten tyranny and carelessness.

It was time for something new in Western Rennekka. The world grows more unstable by the day despite "modern, civilized" governments attempts to stop it. Democracies, governments lead by many had no centralized power; they are weak and would spend more time bickering on a solution than compromising on a solid one. What it takes to lead people through these troubled times is a strong leader who can make difficult decisions -- an individual who truly loves and cares for his people, but leads them with a firm grip to a better tomorrow. What these people in Wustenland needed was not a dictator. What they needed was a leader, and King Franz van Klint V was just that. A new era would dawn onto Rohst in the next few days, months, and years, as now the Königsreich was taking on the mantel of something much greater.

Rohst was no longer a union of kingdoms. It was an empire, a living, breathing reicarnation of the Almannic Reich, and it sought the betterment of its citizens. Though hard to see under his gargantuan moustache, the Kaiser had a grin spreading ear-to-ear. He ended the call with Richter and sat in his chair, stroking his beard.