The Fall of Azenyanistan (IC, CLOSED)

[Sishanite Sornia]

The Fall of Azenyanistan

Let us die...

OOC
Chapter One: Déjalo caer

Her people called her Yisiraritira. In this way, her people could easily know her. She did not mind being called Yisira or Ritira or simply Yisi. That made things easier. But being Yisiraritira, it made her unique.

She owed her name to her parents. Her father was an Azen soldier and her mother was also a soldier. But what made her unique was because her mother was Ysitir. While Yisiraritira inherited her fathers eyes, the shape of his face and the color of his hair, she inherited the lips of her mother and learned the same way she did when she was still in the G171.

Another thing that made her unique in the eyes of her people was that she was their Princess. And being their Princess, she waited here in Hotel Yellow.

Hotel Yellow was the largest hotel owned by the Ysitir. While she found it attractive and convenient that the owner of the hotel was her half sister, Yariya, she was waiting for one and a half hour already. She was getting impatient. And soon enough, she exclaimed while waiting in the lobby with a few strangers,

"Damn it, Solas! Do not make me wait, yayara yisa yaka! You slow woman!"

And in reply, the woman Yisi was shouting about said as she was entering the Hotel,

"And I am here so you no longer have to yell for me, yama-yama."

Yisi now exercised some of her own discipline. She kept her lips shut and nodded to the woman who was around her age by only a few months. Solas then spoke,

"Anyway, shall we begin our Yaltayal?"

Later, the two went into the private meeting room that Yisi reserved for herself and her guest. A table with blankets was also there for use. There, Yisi served Solas yellow tea and some biscuits. Only after Solas sipped some of her tea and bit a biscuit did the Princess or yama-yama sit down.

For their comfort, the chairs were padded and the air conditioner was allowed to serve them. Yisi took off her shoes as did Solas and the both of them put on socks and took blankets from the table nearby. Yisi said quickly,

"So we are finally going to do it? The alliance will be made?"

Solas nodded just as she was sipping tea. She said,

"Yes. Right here. As agreed. The Agreement of Yaltayal." Then she leaned forward, her hands wrapped around her teacup "The Agreement of Color."

Yisi nodded. This was going to be historic. And she was her host. She proceeded,

"Very well. And we'll do it quickly?"

Solas nodded and let Yisi continue. The Princess gathered some folded papers from the pocket of her skirt. Then she unfolded it before Solas and read the first one after putting the rest on her lap,

"In the name of ending the reign of the Azens, of establishing the reign of Sornia and Ysitirikine, of stability, of unity through seperation and of the future, I, Princess Yisiraritira Yallilay of the Ysitir, pronounce the Agreement of Yaltayal, together with President Solas Ester of the Sarns and Lishs."

Yisi nodded to Solas and gave her the paper. Solas then read her part,

"I, President Solas Ester, do pronounce the Agreement of Yaltayal, together with Princess Yisiraritira Yallilay, in the name of all things pronounced by Her Majesty. I now pronounce the details of Yaltayal as follows:

1. The State of Sornia will be declared at the same time as the Kingdom of Ysitirikine.
2. Both the State and the Kingdom will consider each other as allies.
3. Both the State and the Kingdom will take action to bring an end to the Azen state and world by peaceful means.
4. Both the State and the Kingdom will form the Sornian-Ysitirikine Alliance or SYA.
5. Both the State and the Kingdom will partition Azenyanistan. The North will go to Sornia and the South will go to Ysitirikine.
6. The Kingdom will hold as many Azens as they could and the State shall expel as many Azens as they could.
7. Both the State and the Kingdom will encourage the Azens to become Sornian and Ysitir and to forget about their Azen identity.

"

Yisi nodded to what she said and replied,

"In the name of the Agreement, I cast myself into this and I will not turn away from the Agreement."

Solas then nodded and replied herself,

"In the name of the Agreement, I also cast myself into this and I will not turn away from the Agreement."

Afterwards, the two leaders of their peoples sighed and Yisi now gave Solas a pen. Solas then signed the paper four times and gave both the pen and the paper to Yisi back. Yisi signed it four times as well and then returned the paper into her pocket. Meanwhile, Solas unfolded the other papers and read them silently.

She commented after reading all of them,

"When we give our peoples the signal, these plans will have to be done as quickly as possible."

Yisi nodded in agreement and pointed out,

"A week would be sufficient. Two weeks would be acceptable. Any more than that would not be good for us. Yaneza and Nusayastatt will have to be in our hands. And the military and the police should be forced to retreat to the sea along with their kinsmen."

Solas hurmed and leaned back into her chair. She closed her eyes for a moment as she held the papers in her hands. Then she opened them and concluded,

"The only thing left for us to worry about are the rest of the ethnic groups in this land."

[Sishanite Sornia]

Déjalo caer

---

Captain Joan Sardinia broke some sweat as she watched the crowds grow and grow. She looked to her men, holding shields around 5 to 10 years old and roughened batons and surplus arms. They had little armor and so did she. In this part of Azenyanistan, she and her men got the worst equipment.

Hours before, she would have been at home with her family. But right now, she was called back to work. Nervous and irritated and under orders now to disperse the crowds, as they demonstrated loudly but without violence, she took a megaphone from one of her men and ordered the crowd

"Please disperse! I am Captain Joan of the ACP and I am ordering you to disperse!"

The crowds did not obey. They pretended not to hear her and they continued to shout, to chant, to demonstrate. She sighed and gave it back to her men and went to fetch her canteen of water. She was drinking when suddenly someone in the crowd shouted. She heard something faint. Metal striking pavement.

She turned around but it was too late. The explosion struck the police men with shields and the ones at the front of the crowds. She too was caught in the blast and felt shrapnel fill her back and legs. She fell down and saw some of her men writhing in pain. Another was looking for her leg. Women and men in the crowds were running away or were helping the wounded get up or away from the blast.

Someone had tossed a fucking grenade.

---

The Next Day

Eastern Azenyanistan.

Captain Aeyorderna was having her own problems. Facing thousands of angry men and woman, young and old, all demanding actual change, actual results. An actual future. And here she was, on the courtesy of the government, on the courtesy of a dying world. She noticed that her radios would not work. All she heard was static. That meant she was cut off from the rest of the units in the East. Add the fact that they tried their cellphones too and that didn't work made the situation worse. She will have to make do on her own.

It happened so fast. She knew that. But that didn't matter. What mattered was getting her boys and girls, all 200 of them, alive and out of this mess. But first, they had a duty to fulfill. They had to make sure the crowd didn't tear down the fucking city down.

---

Capital of Azenyanistan, Nusayastatt

In the dark of the desert night, two persons were walking towards the tall gates of one of the largest compounds owned by Azenyanistans national communications and electric company, Ralhallah. People in the capital spoke about it as well as anyone could. Some said that it was worth $53 billion. And others said that it was one of the best that Azenyanistan could ever have.
Well, until tonight, that was. While SYA sympathizers in the ACP managed to cut communications for the officers with one another, a more extreme faction of the Alliance was planning something better. Something better.
The two stopped when a female Azen guard raised her fist at them and said,

“Halt! Got IDs?”

The two simply dug their hands into their pockets and showed their IDs off to the woman. The woman in uniform nodded and told them,

“Good to see you again here. Running the late shift?”

One of them was a man and he said,

“Yeah, we are. Hope we’re not late.”

“You’re not! Come on, you’re good to go.” She said, walking out of the tiny guard house just outside of the gates and approaching them to shake hands. After that, she returned to the guard house and operated the console in order to let them through. As they passed through, they swiped their IDs at the nearest scanner. Their identities?

Sachin Nikodim and Sibusiso Dubravka, members of the underground Consordiana.

[Ysitirikine]

المذبحة

---

Azen Civil Protection - Riot Response Team
Captain Belgrun Uysitir
7 PM
Rakshan

Great fires turned night into day. The moon and the stars and the street lights were more than enough to grant the eyes of all sides. Yet such fires granted more and more. It never seemed enough to the Azens and to the SYA for peace to actually settle down in their part of the world.

So the eight wheeled Rhino rolled into the streets, searching for the city center as cop cars and technicals followed. The ACP captain in charge of this operation muttered something in his own tongue of Arabic as they passed by fleeing Rakshanis, be they Sarn or Lish or Azen or foreign. He never wanted foreigners to be in this city state. It still wasn't secure and it no longer was. He heard the soft shooting of the 50 caliber machine guns on top of the armored vehicle. He was sure that his gunners were doing their best to neutralize the ones causing trouble by burning shit or assaulting other people.

He looked out of the window from his side of the Rhino and saw his boys and girls in full armor, covering the sidewalks and alleyways. The ones who wore less Kevlar and Dyneema armor and carried portable battering rams or carbines. They stormed buildings thought to be occupied by demonstrators with the answer to them always being showered with bricks or Molotovs or stones. He never heard the sound of pistols.

It did not take long until the ACP RRTs reached the city center. It was one hell of a fucking mess. The street the RRTs were approaching the city center from were blocked off by burning cars and a lot of trash. The demonstrators responded to their arrival with Molotovs, firecrackers and stones. The RRTs did not give up, instead, the Rhino backed up a little then went full speed into the barricade, pushing it aside after a few hard hits. Some of the troublemakers were crushed, others were pushed aside violently. The rest were chased off by ACP officers wielding large batons or searing sabers. Those who refused to get away from this were warned with carbine shots in the air. Those who did not obey the warnings were filled with lead.

The Captain soon told his men to get out of the Rhino as soon as they made it into the middle of the camp of the demonstrators. It wasn't too large for them, thankfully. Once out, he was struck in the arm by a large stone. It managed to hurt him but he turned and found a young woman dressed in jeans and a hood. She was wearing a mask too and was preparing to toss another one at him. She had silver hair. That told him she was a Lish but that didn't matter when he pulled out his pistol, aimed at her stomach and fired. He made his way over to her as soon as she collapsed on a plastic chair and fired another round into her head.

After that happened, he instructed his men who were securing the center of the camp while the rest of the RRTs were chasing demonstrators down and arresting many of them, often by tackling them or shooting their legs and catching them as they slowed down. His voice was a laser-guided vehicle of justice if one could say that about him,

"Operation Punslinger should proceed smoothly. With this kind of resistance, it would take us until 8:15 PM, at the maximum of 8:30 PM, for us to put an end to this unrest. Team A should assist the other RRTs in arresting demonstrators. Team B should gather evidence. If you can't find any, make it up. Team C will capture anyone who is giving too much resistance and pacify them before transferring them underground. If there are no more questions, you may proceed."

---

Sornian Ysitir Alliance Headquarters
Yaneza City
Princess Yisi

Outside of the four floor building that housed hundreds of SYA staff, their belongings and a handful of SYA supporters armed and ready to protect them, crowd clashed against crowd for different reasons.

From the west, Azens dressed in green and khaki or gray and tan carrying improvised weapons and light weapons such as pistols and low caliber rifles, shouted and marched for unity. From the east, Sarns, Lishes and Ysitir dressed in yellow and blue or blue and gray carrying banners of their wanted states and armed with improvised weapons as well as low caliber rifles. Shots rang out as these crowds met each other on the streets, in the parks or at other public spaces.

Bottles full of burning gasoline were tossed at crowds. Stones and firecrackers were met with rounds and grenades. The ACP stepped in with their armored vehicles and shield wielding officers. But they too were met with violence. Men and women crashed themselves against other men and women. Arms reached for foes. Teeth, nails, fists and everything else was used for assault and self-defense.

Yisi now made a presentation before her staff, before other leaders of the SYA as their guards closed the windows,

"This is the proposed agreement between us and the Azens should they bow to our efforts. Here I go...


1. The land will be divided between Sornia and Ysitirikine. Sornia will take over the North and Ysitirikine will take over the South. The two states will agree to a border along the river Sandy.
2. The name of the land will be reconsidered as Zaicas.
3. The Azens will be given enough time to evacuate from their Homeland.
4. This will be considered as The Old Country.
5. The Sornian Ysitir Alliance will remain in place.
6. The other minorities will be considered as either citizens of Sornia or Ysitirikine or evacuated along with the Azens.
7. Any remaining Azens will be called Ayanites and they will be re-educated and remarried to Sornians or Ysitir.
8. The Royal Family of Ysitirikine will be restored to their throne over Ysitirikine.
9. The State of Sornia shall have its first President, Congress, House of Representatives, Assembly of Offices and National Institutes.
10. The Kingdom of Ysitirikine shall have its Prime Minister, Ministers of the Common House and the Noble House, State Institutions and Yalarilatiya restored.
11. Nusayastatt will be renamed Sovereignty. And Yaneza will be renamed Silangan. Sovereignty will go to Ysitirikine and Silangan to Sornia.
12. Azenyanistan will pay half of their entire treasury to Sornia and the other half to Ysitirikine.
13. Azenyanistan will renounce their claims, their name, their identity and they will make a promise never to establish their nation upon Zaicas.
14. Only Azen Witnesses and Azens listed in Princess Sairas book will be allowed to stay.
15. This shall serve as the official peace treaty between the SYA and Azenyanistan.

How do you all say?"

[Imperial Valaran]

‘To the Victor, the Spoils’

Sathren

---

It had taken one week for Sathren’s triumph to turn into ashes. It wasn’t just that the sweet nectar of victory against the Airforce had been replaced by the bitter reality of unstable state. It was that Azenyanistan had turned into a fucking nightmare. The Airforce might have failed in their coup, but they may have succeeded in killing Azenyanistan anyway. A strong breeze could knock the government down now.

That bitch, Dune, had disappeared. Sathren had always known she was weak. But he hadn’t realised she was tactically helpless. Christ, the Foreign support she had received should have at least ensured she remained alive. Apparently, despite the literal thousands of troops milling around, the place was still collapsing like a house of cards.

Sathren was beginning to wish he had never gambled on such a place. Every new story — bombings, riots, whatever — made him look like a complete idiot for suggesting intervention. Marec had been crowing for weeks. His Socotran adventure had gone much better. Worse still, Tarengard had actually asked if Sathren needed help. Fucking help. He was meant to run the most powerful faction in the Foreign Ministry, and now his rivals were taking pity on him. Spare a penny for the cripple? He’s a bit wrong in the head you see. He thinks bombing deserts is good international relations.

So far, this was all survivable. Marec could make snarky comments and Tarengard could kill with kindness, but these were trifles. More damaging was what Crien and Hesseren thought of all this. They had supported intervention on Sathren’s advice; they could make him the fall guy. He was in prime position to be a scapegoat.

Currently, everything was in limbo. During the brief action against the coup, the Valarans had seized two airbases in Azenyanistan. They bombed one into in near-oblivion. They held the other, albeit with just two Companies of VRF. Hesseren had ordered most of the planes home, though some of the fighter-jets were still there. Of course, they hadn’t been able to get the Azen central government to formally recognise Valaran control of the airbase, because the Azen government barely existed. Local government was in a worse shape — the Azen State had been simultaneously highly centralised and completely dysfunctional, so any administrative collapse in Nusayastatt sent shockwaves through the provinces. The CO had at least made contact with the local Tribal Chiefs, but that was about it.

Meanwhile, the 7th Corps was steaming towards Azenyanistan. They would arrive in a week or so. Hesseren had deliberated on whether to pull them back. Luckily, Sathren had convince him that they were needed as an external deterrent, given the Remnant and Pakirani’s own military buildup. They were also useful as a demonstration of Valaran commitment, and as leverage. But as to what they were actually meant to do once they arrived? Fuck knows. Sathren had suggested they annex part of the nation, and he had only been half-joking.

The comment had resulted in hard stares. Apparently, Social Democrats didn’t take kindly to neo-colonialism. Sathren should have known better, but the sleep he got was very limited these days. In fact, the sunlight he got was very limited as well. Nor proper food. He hadn’t gotten laid in a month either, and he doubted that was about to change while he had dark patches under his eyes and unkempt hair. That’s what this sandblasted shithole had done to him.

Something shouted into his ear. Fuck. His mind had been drifting. He spoke into the phone. Yes Minister. No Minister. We’re doing everything we can, Minister. I’m not going to suck your dick, Minister. I’m sure that upsets you, Minister. Swearing doesn’t fucking help anything, Minister. Please don’t call the Azens that, Minister. Its just not a very nice word, Minister. Are you drunk, Minister. Yes Minister. Thank you Minister. Goodbye Minister.

Sathren set down the phone. What was about Leftists and ranting. Slip up once, and they give you a sermon. Winning that election had gone to their heads. The probably think Valaran will be Communist by Spring. Sathren really thought they would lose that vote. He’d much rather be working with Osteric’s Conservatives now… well, maybe not.

He rubbed his eyes. The action made him see his desk. A crumpled pile of papers. A cardboard cup of stale coffee. Stains on the leather and wood. A productive work environment.

Clara came into the room. Still as perky as ever. Oh to be young. But she was,somewhat changed as well. A stronger stance, legs placed more widely. Her red hair was still immaculate. He left hand clutched a carefully bound document.

“Sathren.” She looked at him. “Had a rough night, have we.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Actually,” Clara swept a curled strand of hair from her face, “we have an appointment.”

Oh. He brushed the papers of his desk, and let them scatter onto the floor. “My tray is completely open.” He smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I need your authorisation on some documents. I’ve drafted the report the Foreign Affairs Committee wanted.”

That was… efficient of her. Sathren straightened. He went into work mode. “Let me see them.” It was a 24 page document. The events looked as up to date as last night. The views… well they didn’t exalcty put him in a good light. But it was fair, at least. Fairer than some of the briefings given to the press.

Sathren peered at the document. “Wait, its Agathur that the grenade attack happened. Not Plavna.”

“Oops. I’ll correct that now then.” Clara looked penitent. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. This looks good on the whole.” Sathren gave a faint smile. “Painfully accurate analysis.”

“Thank you.” She still looked a bit sheepish, for some reason. Sathren couldn’t fathom it. The girl was goddamn competent, but far too embarrassed at her own work. Her brother used to be like that as well. Sathren had met Siastan when he was new to his rank. He blushed at any shred of praise. Even now, you could tell he still sort of grimaced at it, even while smiling broadly for the cameras. Clara hadn't had that kind of PR training. She also seemed a bit more… uncertain of herself, generally. Maybe that was a good thing. Sathren had been self-assured, and look where that had gotten him.

“And uh… Sathren. Do you… need anything?” She asked, softly. Almost with concern, like how Tarengard had asked. “I can grab some food from the cafeteria or-”

“Coffee. I need coffee,” he growled. He didn’t need the fucking sympathy.

Clara blinked. Fuck. I didn’t meant to sound harsh. He paused. “Thanks.”

Formosa

---

Captain Jane Formosa swivelled on her chair. It was not a military item of furniture, but office-supplied, and belonging to the commander of the airbase. To Jane, it was the spoils of war. Claimed by her in glorious battle, or rather the brief skirmish where they drove off the remains of the rogue Azen airforce. The chair had survived unharmed, and Jane took that as a sign of its worthiness… for her ass. It squeaked in protest as she spun on it.

The Azen airbase was not what she expected it to be. For starters, half of it was in ruins. The Valaran Imperial Airforce (VIAF) had bombarded the place a week prior, with several salvos of stand-off weaponry and submunitions, which certainly had an effect. Some of it had smoked for days afterwards. Jane’s unit had managed to full in one of the runways with concrete and diggers stolen from a nearby building site, but but most of the critical infrastructure was lost. Unfortunately, most of the housing amenities were no longer operational either. The Valarans occupied the surviving third of the command centre (luckily the chair was in this section), but the control facilites, storehouses, hangars and all but one generator had been obliterated. The surviving generator was barely functional anyway, and the power sputtered back and forth. This meant only limited lighting, and almost non air-conditioning during the daytime. Mid-afternoons grew fetid with the stink of body odour, and the acrid tang of fuel oil and cordite. Jane preferred the fuel oil.

The VIAF, after a brief stay here in and in a Union-airbase a few kilometres to the West, had largely departed. It was expensive to keep so many planes in a state of combat readiness, and logistically challenging to do so when there were no facilities able to support them. Besides, there was no need: the rogue Azen Airforce had practically folded the moment the VIAF arrived on the scene.

Jane’s two companies of VRF were now the largest Valaran military presence around. It was sobering thought, because the few hundred VRF were alone in an unsettled nation, with near minimal backup, a half-wrecked base of operations, and not even enough air-conditioning to make their sweat run cold.

Foosteps made Jane look up. Her subordinate, Sergeant Leslie Wytts was standing in the doorway. Leslie had the look of someone entirely relaxed, and yet also pissed off. if she was not saluting, she slouched. It she was not speaking, her resign expression was close to a scowl. these were traits both desirable and undesirable in an officer; it had taken Jane sometime to get used to them.

Leslie saluted. “Captain.” The word came out slurred, as there was something lodged in the Sergeant’s cheek.

“Sergeant, take that gum out your mouth.”

Leslie complied, and spat the offending wad into her hand. Jane gave a hard-edged expression. She wondered if discipline was getting laxer. They had been so ready for a real fight. “What did you have to report, Leslie.”

“There’s more.”

More Azens, she meant. The rogue airforce had been defeated with relative ease, but this apparently had not restored Azenyanistan to any measure of stability. Instead, the place had backslid. The airbase was deep within Sornian territory, and with most levels of central government being wiped out or in a state of shock, paralysis had fed to the area. The town nearby the airbase had had several riots in the past few days alone, and there seas regular skirmishing between the battered security forces and separatist insurgents.

To this the Valarans were uneasy onlookers. They had stopped a coup, but had no directive concerning Sornian separatism. They sat in the airbase’s ruins and watched as smoke and the scattered crackle of gunfire occurred not half a mile away. The Sornians ignored their presence. The Azen security services had initially requested help, but had come to realise the Valarans could, and stopped the requests. Besides, contact was intermittent these days.

Unfortunately, this meant the airbase, charred as it was, became something of a safe-haven for the population. Initially, as the place still smoked, and the VRF were still setting up, people stayed far away. But now, with the fighting elsewhere, families and individuals had made their way.

Jane’s units had some spare supplies, and with the runway repaired, there was a steady trickle of aerial deliveries. But there was not nearly enough for the now hundreds of Azens camped outside. Much of the aerial deliveries was supplies for the VRF, not for the civilians. The base itself had precious little supplies of its own, and most of the food and medical stocks had rotted without power. Worse still, when the Valarans had tried to give out what they had, it had merely attracted more Azens.

Jane stood up. Under her breath, she swore. She could do almost nothing for these people. Yet here they were. “Have you had the interpreters say that we have no aid for them?”

“Yes. Didn’t seem to have an effect. I think,” Leslie chewed on the thought. “I think the feel safer simply by being so close to the airbase. I also think they don’t understand that we can’t help them. Like it just hasn’t sunk through.”

Jane fought off a sigh “How many more are there?”

“We haven’t made a formal count, but I’d estimate a few hundred.”

“Get a platoon to start registering them then.”

“I would have, but-”

“But?”

“But it might start encouraging them to think that we’re actually going to do something with these lists. Like they’re in some sort of process or something.”

“Its still better to have records of numbers. In case we do get to distribute aid.” Jane didn’t bother pretending it was likely.

Leslie shrugged. She leaned against the door. “Its up to you.”

Jane’s mouth twitched in irritation. Lesie was getting more undisciplined. And more difficult too.
Something was going to have to be done about that, as much as Jane hated reprimanding her officers. Leslie in particular, seemed to remember a slight, and would repay the favour some other way later.

Jane new she should be firmer about this. Someone like General Malian, or Foreign Secretary Helen Crien would have dressed down Leslie at the first hint of an issue. Try as she might, Jane wasn’t quite as good as that. Anyway, this was a problem for another time. Right now she had a more immediate issue.

“Do you know if we ha-” A rumble sounded. Faint yet undeniably large, like a distant army roaring. An explosion.

She called one of her staff. “Corporal, found out where that went off” The man saluted and ran off. No loss of discipline with him.

“Probably a bomb.” Leslie said.

No shit. “Sounds like it was close by.”

Leslie continued to slouch. “Not that close.”

Jane stayed silent. Faintly, she could just about make out smaller rumbles, not nearly as loud. Secondary blasts, or something else.

The Corporal returned after a few moments, breathless. “It was the police station. The squad on the roof saw the whole front of the building be engulfed.”

This really isn’t going to help our refugee situation. Jane nearly cursed herself: dozens of people likely died, and this was her first thought?

She went up to the roof herself, Leslie following behind. Binoculars were supplied to her, and took a look through them, west. This section of the roof was raised to 7 stories, forming a sort of tower. It allowed full view of the plain. To the west was the nearby town, ochre houses barely rising above the patches of mud-yellow and green that stretched on. Mountains reared up in the distance, the start of the one of the ranges etched across northern Azenyanistan.

Jane looked down the binoculars, at the centre of the small town. The building was indeed engulfed. It was replaced by plume of smoke, rising into the daylight haze. A staccato of gunfire could be heard, echoing across the plain.

Jane looked away, slightly. To the right of the rooftop tower was a ruined section of of the airbase. Beyond that was the VRF perimeter, a mass of half-hidden machine posts and the shapes of APCs. And beyond that, a grassy hill, engulfed in its own way by the swelling mass of refugees.

Three hundred new arrivals. Jane’s thoughts returned again to the number. That must make a thousand in total. More double the VRF present at the airbase. They were the true outcome of the coup, the real spoils of war.

[Sishanite Sornia]

La Caída

Aura

One week after the beginning.

The first day of the SYA-CIN-AZN conflict

---

Sela Samara Sallin sighed as her communications officer turned off the radio, silencing the Azen emergency radio and television agency. She was made General of the Armies of the SYA in quite a hurry. In her hands were five divisions of Sornians, Lishs and Ysitir who left the Azen military with everything they could carry. This city, in Central Zaicas (formerly Central Azenyanistan), would be the beginning of the fire. One great fire that would decide who will remain in this land. Sela had made a firm prayer to Allah before this day came.

As her 100,000 men waited for the Azens to come after them with all they’ve got, Sela wanted to contact the one leading the Azens to battle. And that would be Field General Slateface.

It didn’t take her a long time to contact the Field General. She had her number and so did the Azen. She was the first to speak,

“Field General Slateface, this is Sela Samara Sallin. I’m the General of the Armies of the SYA. I wished to speak to you if you may allow me to do so.”

There was a bit of silence. Sela gave herself this chance to look at her men from the window of the city hall, which she has taken as her secondary headquarters. Her primary one would be in one of the many apartments here. The answer came,

“General Sela, this is Slateface. I am giving you permission to speak to me as you wish. However, you do realize that by staying in the city with 100,000 men and all of their equipment you have declared war on my country?”

“I realize that.” She paused and walked out of her office in the city hall, passing by her officers and other members of her staff. She said,

“But you do realize that it is the end of your country? I wonder how many men you are bringing? No… I wonder what kind of men you are bringing. Reserves? Battle weary men? Aging veterans? What are you doing here even?”

“Doing what I should do.”

“For your country.”

“Yes.”

Sela sighed. She stopped walking just as she reached the front doors of the city hall. She whispered,

“If not for your leadership, your men would have deserted this land with their families. If not for your officers, your men would have not come here to die.”

“And if not for your actions, you would not have put this land to death.” Sela did not flinch. “Goodbye then, Sela.” Then the Azen hung up.

Before Sela could enter the city hall again, some of her men nearby began to shout

“Fighter bombers! Fighter bombers!”

And Sela turned and raised her binoculars to the sky, seeing F-16s approaching from the South. As her own anti aircraft weapons on the roofs and on the open ground began to engage the planes, the twin fighter bombers unleashed Mark 82 bombs and AGM-154 Joint Standoff Weapons at the SYA anti aircraft weapons. While a few of Selas 2K22 Tunguskas managed to score a fatal hit on one of the F-16s, the proud aircraft diving into the outskirts of the city and crashing, the other survived with just a few scratches.

The bombs and the missiles hit. Sela hit the ground as three of her Tunguskas, which were bunched up in one spot near the city hall, exploded from one of the AGM-154s striking them. And on the other hand, the roof of a nearby apartment disappeared in a hail of rubble and blood when an Mark 82 struck a few teams of SYA soldiers with MANPADS.

It was time.

[Sishanite Sornia]

Battle of Aura

Aura. 2017. First hour of the first battle.

Sela Samara Sallin – SYA General of the Armies

Field General Slateface

General Nonhelema


“The Azens will strike us here, passing through Tarasilaniva. While the rest of our forces will take care of their flanks, our job is to defend the center of Aura. Then once we break their forces here, we will conduct a counter attack with what we have left or with the New Azen reinforcements.” Sela said while she scanned the map given to her by one of her aides. That same aide asked,

“The New Azens?”

“Yes. Under the personal command of one of Banshees best officers, the Shadow. You must know General Nonhelema Sequoyah. I believe you have more to learn, Leftenant Sulyaa.”

The leftenant nodded to that and allowed her General of the Armies to now examine the map. She grabbed a marker with blue ink and she drew on the map for quite a bit until she had a plan. She motioned to her officers to come closer and they did. They looked at the map, listening to Sela say,

“Each officer in this room must remember their roles. I will split you into several groups. With the Azens coming at us from the South, there will be a group to the East, to the West and in the Center. I want a group to the North as reserve.”

The officers nodded to each of their roles and soon at the order of dismissal, they made their way out and into their command vehicles. Some were using trucks while others used helicopters or armored personnel carriers. And for Sela, she had her own command tank. Nevertheless, she did not find any need to move out just yet.

---

Azen Perspective

Rios full of supplies kept on moving through the pass as half tracks carrying reservists and HUMVEES carrying regulars escorted them. At the front and rear of the convoy were PT-76Bs and PT-90s protecting them as much as the four-blade, twin-turboshaft attack helicopters hovered above them towards Aura.

Self propelled mortars and howitzers as well as anti aircraft guns followed along with HUMVEES carrying scouts. At the flanks, the best tanks of the Azen forces advanced under the cover of F-16s and at the courtesy of vehicles equipped with recoilless rifles, ATGMs or cannons. At the head of the massive convoy of troops and their equipment meant to destroy SYA opposition was Field General Slateface.

She pursed her lips as she gave instructions to her officers over what was left of their radios and other communications. She said it in a way that seemed exhausted yet strong...for what it was still worth.

“I want everyone to be careful. We may outnumber the SYA but what we have to use against them might not be great enough. So conserve your best and do your duty. Once we get out of the pass, we must take positions and from there, assault the SYA. At the courtesy of our artillery and the best that our surviving Air Force gave us, let’s hope that we will win this battle.”

[Imperial Valaran]

‘Vistas and Volition’

Varkalen

---

The helicopter’s rotors whirled as it descended. They blew a wall of air across the deck. It made Siastan’s hair whip back and forth, the strands of brown dancing like puppets, captive to the strings of a mechanical wind. The helicopter itself was a bulky sort, built for generating strong lift. Normally that made it able to carry heavy cargo, but today its load was slender: a single passenger, plucked from the tarmac of Syrnistan. A person of importance, or least important enough to warrant airlift to Siastan himself.

The General stood alone, waiting for the craft to land. The atmosphere was in bracing form — even without the helicopter’s rotors, there were buffets of ocean wind, robbed of their chill this far south. The deck itself was busy. Naval planes were wheeled around, with dozens of brightly suited engineers scurrying between them. Siastan had watched several take off as he waited for the helicopter to arrive, gazing as they disappeared in the surrounding grey. He could smell the sea.

Around him were the grey silhouettes of the 1st Fleet, resembling nothing so much than a hunting pack, prowling the oceans. The Fleet was some 60 ships in total, most scattered beyond the horizon in a dispersed wedge formation. And at its centre, the mass of the Aegir, the Super-carrier on which General Siastan Varkalen stood.

The fleet wasn’t crawling along, but nor was it racing. The ships were travelling at 15 knots in split plant mode, which meant one engine was running per shaft. It saved up on fuel, without cutting costs too badly. Plenty of the vessels could travel double that, but Siastan preferred his formation to stay together. Besides, the crisis appeared less urgent with every day. The Airforce had surrendered. The 7th Corps was needed to clean up, not to fight.

A figure stepped out of the helicopter. Thin and pale, with a long dark coat that flapped behind him. Brown hair, slightly too long for the style, danced and waved in the rotor-wind. The man was not imposing in a traditional sense. He possessed the height, but lacked the bulk. But there was a presence to him, articulated in different ways. The man picked his way forwards, with long deliberate strides. His movements had poise. And his face was keenly observant. Powerful eyes were hidden in gaunt and delicate features. The eyes were capable of many expressions, darting quickly between things, but they always held a intensity to them, an incisive quality.

Siastan went forwards. The General possessed more of the traditional appearance of a leader. Pale and tall yes, but less pale than the man descending from the helicopter, and more muscled than spindly. His face too held a sharper jaw, robust features and when it smiled, a gleaming expression. And to those who saw him in press images, General Siastan Varkalen smiled often.

“Eric, glad to see you!” he shouted over the noise of the rotors.

“Likewise General!” The arrival replied. Eric Nygaard’s eyes shot and appraised Siastan. A quick analysis, noting the warm expression, the relaxed stance, the fresh-faced smile, straight out of a dozen publicity posters. A military man, wrapped in layers of publicity.

Eric stopped before Siastan. He drew himself up, almost standing to attention. A note of the parade-ground entered his voice. “And how are the Troops, General Varkalen.”

“Very well.” Siastan had nearly added Minister to his sentence. Force of habit, for Eric had until recently been Foreign Secretary, and a political patron of the young General. The balance had shifted. “The 7th are used to the waits by now.”

Eric seemed to notice the pause. “Of course.” he chuckled ruefully. “I remember giving them enough of those waits to enjoy.”

Siastan smiled as best he could. He did not like to talk of past wars. “Did you want to talk now?”

“Sure. Though perhaps not here.”

Siastan took them to his office. It was located on the bridge. Beneath them was command centre of the Aegir, arrays of data banks and vid-screens, radiating outwards towards panels of angled glass. The glass panels were tinted, shading the landscape and making it seem unreal — like the feed of a vid-screen itself. The place hummed with a subdued activity — there was little conversation, but people started intently at screens, reading off responses in a well-orchestrated fashion. Eric looked at the scene for a moment, hands clutching a handrail.

“I was surprised to get your message,” Siastan ventured. “I was even more surprised when it came through on military frequencies.”

Eric smiled. “I still have a few contacts in the military.”

“Contacts like me?”

“I was talking about political acquaintances. Siastan, you’re a friend.”

“As I seem to recall, you still used me for political ends.” Siastan gave a quick smile. “Don’t tell me it was in the national interest.”

“It was in the government’s interest. And also the VRF’s. We needed a fresh face to sell the budget increases.” Eric had this facial technique, where his eyes could smile while his lips stayed pursed. He used that now. “Someone with a winning smile.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you our here?” Siastan didn’t have the patience for games. Eric’s presence here presented an aspect the General did not like: political interference.

“I was probing the situation. Partially Seward’s idea, but at my own volition.” Neither Eric’s eyes or mouth smiled now. “I was worried that Sathren didn’t know what he was getting us into. He’s a clever one, but he doesn’t know the region. He missed all the signs, and dragged Hesseren and Crien and the rest of us straight into this quagmire, because he needed to one-up everyone else.” He looked at the General. “The rivalries are getting out of hand, Siastan. I left the Ministry with many princes, but no king. They all think the crown is theirs. Sathren, Marec, Tarengard, even Seward. And Crien.”

“Crien is the Foreign Secretary.”

“Not to them. They’ve been managing it for years, while she was sniping at their efforts from the Opposition benches in Parliament. She has the will and maybe the competence, but…” Eric looked down “She hasn’t got the influence. And she doesn’t know how to work these people, either. Not in ways they would accept.”

It took Siastan a moment to fully understand. Eric could be indirect. He didn’t give open explanations for his intentions. Instead, he gave nudges and hints, a drip-feed of clues that allowed the other person to slowly work their way towards comprehension. Siastan had been the victim of these things before, back when he wasn’t used to political scheming. In a moment of frustration, had asked Eric why he did this. ’Its not just about saying what I want,’ Eric had replied. ’I’m trying to given you the same thought process I had, so you can arrive at the same conclusions I did. Its about getting you to understand why I want something, not only that I want it. That’s you persuade someone to do what you want. You get them to want the same thing you want, for the reasons you want it.’

This was what Eric was doing here. He was explaining what he wanted to the General to do. “So, what you’re saying is,” Siastan ventured, his voice halting. “The reason you’re here, I mean… is that you want to bypass the Ministry?”

Eric smiled immediately. The sort of warm, honest expression one gives to a child or a novice, who has figured something out for the first time. It was equal parts patronising, but also immediately uplifting. “Exactly! Normally I would use diplomatic processes. But right now — and here — the diplomatic processes are dysfunctional. They’re also not as important. The real power on the ground is your soldiers. So I came to offer advice to you.” Eric paused. He seemed uncertain himself. “That is, if you would listen to me.”

Siastan sighed and rubbed his temples. “I’ll all ears, Eric. The truth is that regardless of what the diplomats natter on about — no offence — my troops will have to clear up whatever mess is on the ground. Any insight on that is appreciated.” If you can help me do my job, I’ll help you get what you want. He could trust that Eric was doing this for the nation, at least.

Eric straightened. He did that a lot. “Well then,” he voice took on an instructive tone, like that of a teacher. “Let us begin. How much do you know about Sornia?”

Crien

---

“Yes Minister. No Minister. Please refrain from using that language Minister. It doesn’t get us anywhere Minister.” A pause. “Thank you Minister, I will bear that advice in mind. You best back to your drinks Party, Minister.” Crien set the phone down was an exasperated sigh. “You’d think I’d get worse shit from the Opposition. Not from my own damn colleagues.”

Clara looked at her boss. “You don’t often swear.”

Crien began stacking papers into neat piles on her desk. “Well recently, I’d say that I am bit more frazzled than usual.”

“If you say so, Ma’am. Though from what I hear, Sathren got an even worse phonecall.”

Crien looked up. “How do you know?”

Clara looked a bit sheepish. “Oh, I, uh, overheard it as I went to see him. The Minister was very loud.”

“Huh.” Well Sathren bloody well deserved it. Most of this mess was his damn fault. Crien continued stacking papers. She could have asked her secretary to do it, but the woman would likely mess the order up. Besides, what kind of person couldn’t file their own papers? An idiot, that’s who.

Clara looked at her phone. It was an internal ministry model, entirely disconnected from the outside lines. Crien watched the girl frown — Clara didn’t hide her emotions much. “Better tell me the news and get it over with.”

“A brief report, Ma’am. Eric Nygaard has landed… with the 1st Fleet, of all place. He was greeted by Sias— I mean General Varkalen.”

“But wasn’t he in Aegypt? Meeting with Bugaboo?”

“Apparently his vacation didn’t last long.”

In theory, an MP had the authority to visit a naval ship. It was a privilege few exercised in normal times. But this wasn’t normal times, and rarely did an MP visit a fleet while it being deployed. Nygaard was up to something.

“So we have an ex-Foreign Minister, who is also an MP from an opposition political party, running around conducting his own Foreign Policy, and being received by generals.”

Clara looked aghast. “You don’t think its treason, do you?”

“No,” Crien sighed. “Nygaard isn’t a traitor.” But he liked to meddle. Especially if it was in diplomacy, and especially if he thought the government was doing something wrong. The man still viewed himself as Foreign Minister, no doubt. The role was practically baked into his blood. Crien knew entitlement when she saw it, and the Right Honourable Eric Nygaard practically reeked of it.

But this was still a problem. It represented a new level of activity on his part, a much more naked attempt to subvert national policy. You didn’t have to be a traitor to cause real problems. She gave Clara a direct stare. “They know each other, don’t they? Your brother and Eric.”

The girl looked worried. “Yes. Uh, I mean, Eric was something of a sponsor to Siastan when he was more junior. Helped him gain a lot of political favour.”

That was it? “So it was just patronage?”

“Yes. Well-” Clara chewed on her lip. “They were also friends. Well, sort of. Siastan still depended heavily on Eric. Its always difficult to be friends when there is a imbalance of power.”

Well, aren’t those words of wisdom. Crien knew far too well the truth of that statement. Valaran politics was all about connections, but these were an ill-fitting mesh of the personal and the professional. People charmed each other constantly, but it was always in the hopes of some new advantage.

Anyway, this really wasn’t helping. Crien had no way of knowing what Eric was doing, or had done. She could order General Varkalen to tell her directly, but that would be an embarrassing display of weakness, and it might place the General in a problematic spot. Crien liked Siastan — or rather she thought was a decent man. She didn’t need him disgraced, or humiliated, not while commanding forces. Perhaps it was better to talk to Nygaard directly… no that was probably wanted he wanted: the Foreign Secretary at his beck and call. At least putting surveillance on him had been the right call.

Maybe revoking his military jurisdiction was the way to go. It was technically feasible — she could sign a written document requesting such to Prime Minister Hesseren. He would approve it to. But that didn’t her find out what Eric had set in motion. The blasted man had always been crafty; it was why he had been dominate the Sathrens and Marecs in the Foreign Ministry for so damn long. He knew diplomatic processes like no one else. Even without Ministerial Office, or his Party in government, he was still running rings people.

An unscrupulous person would ask Clara to get the information from her brother. Crien knew the sort who would do that — Flint, Osteric. In fact, had Eric been in Crien’s position still, he might have done the same. But this was not how Crien operated. She did not manipulate her employees.

This left one other way. Whatever Nygaard had planned, he was bypassing his old buddies at the Foreign Ministry. He wouldn’t visit a VRF General if he could have talked to Diplomats. So there must be some problem with them, some problem Crien could exploit…

“By the way, Ma’am,” Clara spoke up, softly pulling Crien back from her thoughts.

Crien looked up. For some reason Clara was packed and ready to leave the Office. Crien glanced at the watch. 9 PM already? It was surprisingly late. “What?”

“There’s an Office drinks party. I didn’t know if you seen it was happening, so I thought I would tell you and well… you know.”

Crien screwed up her face. “Why is there a party?”

Clara looked at her boss. “You, uh, did know it was Christmas soon?”

The realisation hit the Foreign Secretary like a poleaxe. “Oh. Well, no, I won’t join in. Christmas Parties are just excuses for people to put on ridiculous santa hats, pat themselves on the back, tell people they hate how good friends they are, and then drunkenly try and grope some female co-worker because they don’t want to spend a whole year alone again.” Crien gave a thin smile. “Well, so I’ve heard. Enjoy yourself, Clara. I’d say that after this year, you’ve earned yourself a vacation.”

“Oh well, ok. Have a good vacation as well.” The girl left the office slowly.

Crien looked down at her desk. A new stack of her papers lay before her. Unstacked. She looked up at the empty Office “Actually, you know what.” She called at the door. Clara reappeared in a flash. “I’ll go.”

“Oh. That’s… good.” Clara actually looked more concerned that Crien had said yes.

“Indeed.” Crien grinned, and it was somehow the most terrifying thing that whole night. “Let’s put on santa hats and get fucking wasted.”

[Sishanite Sornia]

Herzen aus Eisen

---

Aura

“Still no visuals, Lieutenant!” Stated Musheera as she looked through her large rangefinding binoculars. Her commanding officer was right beside her as the vehicles that belonged to their unit began to roll into town without resistance. For at least several minutes, they have not spotted the enemy. Not a single unit has reported an instance of contact as well. Dakarai Tidir, the lieutenant nodded and told her,

“Keep it up, Musheera. I want you to monitor the open areas to our right flank.” The private asked if she meant the areas with Mount Sica and the river Saoza. The lieutenant replied accordingly and said, “Tell me immediately if you see anything up.” Then the lieutenant took this chance to get off the FIAT and rush to the west for a few hundred meters to catch a patrolling soldier on a motorcycle. The blonde stopped him and told him, “Take me to HQ in Charlie! Come on!”

The motorcycle soldier obeyed and let her hop on the bike. Soon, the soldier turned the bike around and they returned to Charlie along a long road by the river. It would have been a beautiful thing to look at for hours if not for the fact that there was a battle coming. Dust kept on flowing through the air as much as the vehicles and helicopters kept on coming from Alpha and Delta, the zones from which the Azens came from. For now, the brigade was on their own and the pass was sealed off by their reinforcements to make sure that no enemy forces would flank around and entrap them.

It took her only a few minutes to reach the boundary of Charlie, marked by checkpoints and half tracks with either machine guns or autocannons. She got off the bike and let the soldier resume his patrol as she ran to the checkpoint and asked, “Can you get me to HQ?” the guard that she asked was young enough to understand and she gave up the radio to her. The lieutenant then made contact with HQ, saying,

“This is LT. Dakarai, reporting that we still have no visuals on our right flank. Is it the same everywhere else, sir?”

“This is HQ, yes Dakarai, there are no visuals yet. Our recce helicopters have not spotted anything. And our troops have no reports of contact. Do you have anything else, Dakarai?”

“No more, sir. Permission to return to my post?”

“Permission granted.” Then the line was cut. Dakarai gave the radio back to the guard and thanked her. Fortunately, for her, there was a spare motorbike close to the checkpoint. She took that and rolled back into her post. But along the way, Musheera reported,

“I’m seeing enemy armor, Sir! I’m counting….5…..10 T-72s! The enemy just deployed smoke and it’s getting harder to pinpoint their location, Sir! I’m starting to see BMPs! They’re coming at us here!”

Over the radio, the junior officer from Northern Azenyanistan could hear the rest of her own men reporting the same thing to other units. Then there was a loud and painful explosion. The private said after the lieutenant stopped and tried to contact them,

“SHIT! They’re hitting us with their heavy mortars! Sir! I’m gonna have to drop the radio! Orders?!”

The woman tried to catch her breath as she heard more and more explosions over the radio and from her position. She could see a pair of attack helicopters from her side come to the right flank just as her private screamed when a shell hit her position, silencing her and the radio for good.

The battle was taking place.



Forests of Aura

Two hours after the right flank of the Azens forces came under attack.

Captain Ofrah Hartmut dove for protection from falling shells from enemy mortars once again. The muddy, fertile soil was good for absorbing the shock of explosions but it wasn’t for actually protecting her and her men in their infantry fighting vehicles and light, light armor. She was caught outside of her own PT-76 when the enemy thought it was a great idea to unleash their artillery on the attacking Azens.

She grunted as she raised herself from the forest floor and shouted at those who were still alive and out of their vehicles,

“GET YOURSELVES BACK INTO YOUR VEHICLES! BACK TO THE VEHICLES! WE HAVE TO GO! GO!”

And they obeyed but not as quickly as she wanted them to. More shells landed around them, lighting up the forest as much as it shattered men or ruined vehicles. Ofrah ran for her light tank as she saw it roll forward, as if it was leaving her behind. As she ran and ran, to her right and left, the mortars fell. Limbs came off as men were turned into meat or as vehicles were struck and exploded in a messy fashion. She was halted when a mortar fell right in front of her but it did not explode. She fell to the ground, on her buttocks, making her groan in pain. But then she realized that there was the shell. She crawled away from it as her poor ears began to silence themselves.

Her unit was being slaughtered. She had to get back to her tank and guide them out of this killing zone. She thought she could hear another officer say,

‘They got us zeroed! We gotta get out of here!”

And in reply, she tried to tell her otherwise. But the lieutenant, in her ruined combat uniform and her dirtied rifle, was also made a casualty once one more shell came close to her legs. Ofrah felt every piece of the woman strike her face and her uniform, almost causing her to vomit once she realized that the officer has been destroyed by the artillery.

She rose up to her own two feet, shaking and moving forward, attempting to catch up to her tank, the Centurion. She almost made it as the bombardment slowly came to an end when she heard a very sharp noise that concluded in her tank being turned into a burning pot. She thought she heard her men scream when the explosion forced her off her feet and caused her to strike a tree.

Again, she grunted and fell to the forest floor, writhing in pain as her unit was forced back by an incoming force of SYA anti tank vehicles and tanks as well as infantry fighting vehicles. Her vision slowly faded as she heard the orders of the remaining officers of her unit,

“RETREAT! RETREAT! BACK TO THE EDGE OF THE FOREST! BACK TO--”

---

Only six hours after Aura, Sotewa and Azuq fell to the SYA.
Secret talks have been conducted between the SYA-CIN and the AZN. A week has been allocated to the Azens to leave their homeland after the cities holding the crossroads into the rest of the country went into SYA-CIN control. Millions of Azens are moving over difficult terrain to Southern Azenyanistan, held by Ysitirikine, to make it to the ports and airports granted by the SYA-CIN to them.

---

Secretary Aya

It was a very painful sight for the leader of the AZN forces and the Azen world. She had been told, in the past meetings, that over nine million Azens are making their way from their homes into Southern Azenyanistan, with only the battle-weary AZN forces holding the corridor for their safe travel until the Azen Armored Corps made their way to the areas they were needed to safeguard the Azens once hostilities restart.

Aya picked herself up from the cheap plastic chair that served as her seat in a small office that was missing a piece of its roof and some windows due to damage from the conflict. It had only been a few days and Azenyanistan was already collapsing incredibly badly. No communications with the outside world made it even more devastating. For now, though, only radios and satellite phones could connect them.

She went out and met her communications officers and their staff, who were working on radios and phones as desperatately and quickly as they could, making contact, attempting to, with nearby nations and all their allies.

The Esgonians, the Porteans, the Urranese, the Vanquarians, the Helghans, the Oceanics, the Pakiranistanis, the Reutoans, the Ygarthans....everyone!

It was not easy for her to draw another breath as she walked through the tight path provided to her by her comms people, who were overflowing in the room she was in right now. Once out, she met her private secretary.

The young woman had touching brown skin, mid-length wavy hair and hazel eyes. She seemed a little taller than Aya but she was slimmer. She was pale too and only noticed Aya once she touched her shoulder. The private secretary sat up and said,

"Sorry, Secretary Aya. I fell asleep. I haven't...haven't eaten and slept for d-"

"You should get something to eat from the field kitchens then."

The young woman shrugged and smiled ironically. Aya frowned at that as her subordinate said,

"Well, it's difficult. You have to wait and I'm so tired. Not to mention, other people need the food. The radios never told the world that we are running out of food and water. Only nearby rivers and streams as well as lakes could satisfy our thirst. And only the fruits we find along the way and the rations of our own soldiers are in our hands to devour. We might find more to keep us alive in the next city but...."

Aya stopped her with a hand to her lips and said,

"I'll gather food and water for you then. For now, sleep." The private secretary kept looking at her boss. Here she was. Aya too lacked sleep and confined herself to her office to try and get some. But nightmares and worrying kept her occupied. She too was hungry but she traded that for working with her generals last night a time after the secret talks.

Then the woman nodded gently and said,

"Thank you, Aya."

And soon nodded off to slumber while Aya went out of the ruined office and into the open fields of Dosardinia. There, at least a myriad of civilians and soldiers rested, despaired and waited for trucks and helicopters to take them away to the coastal cities and to Ysitir territory. Aya could only smile a little, just a damned little at knowing the Ysitir were more...forgiving of the Azens than the Sornians. Aya failed to realize before that her country did more wrong to the Sornians over the course of the Azen worlds history. And nobody gave a damn.

An open sky meant an open opportunity for the SYA-CIN to attack. But thanks to the small force of Ysitir that the SYA sent to make sure that the skies remained clear and innocent, Aya could relax. Yet Aya feared more from the north and from the west and east. The SYA-CIN have overtaken some more cities that could grant them chances of escaping through air and sea. For now, the only cities that remained in Azen hands were Sharn and Sevenyah. The rest of the cities have...unfortunately been given up to the SYA-CIN thanks to the demoralizing effect the loss of the three northern cities close to the Sornian border had on the secret talks. For now, a gentle collection of millions were moving out.

Aya walked into the camps, seeing tired women, worried men and scared children. Old people gathered to discuss their fates and those of their loved ones. Tribes came together to either talk about what places to go or what to do when the SYA-CIN came to...as they put it, murder all of them.

It wasn't good. And she hoped the AZN forces currently fighting for Steelburg and Mari would not crumble. For now, those two cities that the Azens were fighting to hold on to were their only hope of making sure the corridor DID not fall and that the corridor NEVER would fall.

[Pakiranistan]

"Operation Silent Steps"

---

Lance Naik Kamran Gilani, Over Rakshan, Azenyanistan

---

Lance Naik Kamran Gilani sat on a bucket seat onboard an Pakirani Airborne TTC-16, his seatbelt tightly holding him upright against the seat the drowned out noise of the engines keeping him awake as well as the occasional jolt from the plane shaking ever so lightly. Gilani looked to his front where another paratrooper sat opposite of him before gazing around to his right to see even more paratroopers and as he turned his head to his left he saw....even more paratroopers, in order to pass time Gilani began counting all the heads of all of the paratroopers onboard the plane starting from the rear and ending near the jump master,

"1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10..." he continued counting mentally ahead until he reached where the jump master was sitting, in total he had counted 98 paratroopers including himself on board the plane. After finishing counting he peered down at his watch and to his surprise what seemed like a good 10 minutes had only barely amounted to 5 minutes of counting.

Sighing Gilani stared out the window behind the paratrooper opposite of him it was one of the only windows mounted on the plane and Gilani was fortunate to be seated infront of it, outside of the window all that could be seen was the dark night sky with only the occasional remaining streaks of clouds in the cold night air to show that the plane was indeed moving and not just staying still suspended in the air, he tried to make out the fast spinning engines but could slightly and barely make out a blurred yellow which he attributed to the yellow safety tips painted on the fans of the engines themselves.

As Gilani turned to his right oncemore he noticed the jump master press his hand against the side of his headphones signalling to Gilani to make the assumption that they were close to the LZ and preperations for the jump were soon going to be made, and his assumption was correct as moments later the jump master whispered something to the Company Commander who informed the rest of the company "Were 10 mikes out, stay frosty men!" Gilani looked down at his IAF-06 gripping it lightly and readying it to clip to the back of his chest rig for the jump soon the jump master yelled "STAND, UP!" with Gilani complying shortly after as did the rest of the paratroopers, at this point Gilani was tensed up as the sound of clinks shot out the through the cockpit as paratroopers clipped their rifles to their chest rigs.

The jump master yelled "5 MIKES!" to the paratroopers before shortly following it up with "Attach, lines!" and demonstrating to the troopers what he meant by attaching his hook to a static line, the compartment was soon full of more clinks as paratroopers attached their hooks to the static line. The compartment soon lit up red with the jump master yelling "RED LIGHT!" and walking to one of the jump doors and opening it with the Company Commander opening the one on the other side.

Moments later the light turned green and so did the compartment with the jump master looking back at the light before gesturing towards the first paratrooper "GO.....GO......GO.....GO.....GO" yelled the jump master with the Company Commander doing the same on the other side. Gilani moved up as the paratroopers infront of him began jump ing out of the plane and soon the paratrooper directly infront of him jumped out and he walked over to the open door and bracing his hands on it staring at the dark sky below before letting go of the plane and jumping out descending down into the darkness, Gilani attempted to glance up behind him and saw the lights of the plane rapidly move away from the sound of its engines becoming more distant and being drowned out by the sound of the wind as he free falled through the sky the wind pushing up against his goggles.

It was truely peaceful for Gilani falling through the air freely and seemingly alone, all of his worries went away and he left the real world going into a day dream about him driving his Land Rover Defender through the sand dunes of Pakiranistan, it was quite peaceful before someone behind him began honking at him and the honks soon drowned out and turned into rapid beeps, he came back to the real world glancing at his left arm from where the beeping was coming from, the beeping itself was his altimeter telling him that he had reached the desired altitude and that he should deploy his parachute. Gilani promptly followed by pulling the cord on his parachute and was soon suddendly pulled back into the air as his parachute deployed, as he recovered and began gliding down, he glanced down to see more white parachutes in the sky below him and as he looked above him parachutes on top of him.

Gilani glided gently into what he thought was an open but soon slammed into a wooden fence before bouncing off of it and falling to the ground face first his parachute getting stuck causing for him to be dragged back towards it and as well as him rolling a few times on the ground helplessly before another paratrooper who had a much smoother landing slashed the cords attaching the parachute to his bag. Gilani stared at the sky before sluggishly rolling over onto his knees and getting up with help from the paratrooper ,

"Thanks Mirza" he said to the other paratrooper who patted him on the back and replied "No problem man, you always seem to have problems" before breaking out into a small laugh "Yea seems so, lets rendevous with the others now" said Gilani while unclipping his IAF-06 from his chest rig and hold it with his hands "You got it, lets go" replied Mirza and soon they both began into a light jog going north to the rendevous point and after 5 minutes of jogging arrived at the rendevous point signalled by a flare.

The Company Commander Harun Khan stood on top of an light IFV and nodded towards the pair as they approached "Thats everyone right?" he asked looking towards their platoon commander whom nodded in approval "Alright then lets get this started" gestured Khan to the platoon commanders who gathered around a map layed out near the flare which illuminated it "So we as Alpha company will be seizing the Western sector of the city of Rakshan" he pointed at a spot on the map with his index finger "While Bravo Company will be coming from the East, Charlie from the South and Delta from the North" stated Khan as he moved his finger around various points of the map before looking up at the platoon commanders who nodded for him continue "Alright so I will lead 1st Platoon into the city itself from this point, Leftenant Jamshed will lead the 3rd platoon into the city from here while 2nd platoon provides overwatch and covering fire if need be from this small hill, alright then lets go we are already 2 minutes late" stated Khan before getting up and signalling for his platoon to follow him.

Gilani was apart of 1st platoon and as such was apart of the incursion into the city itself, jogging lightly with his rifle down beside one of the light IFVs of his company onto the outskirts of the city. The IFV soon slowed down with Gilani quickly darting to take cover beside of it his rifle up and scanning the area infront of him. Moments later in the distance the sound of gun shots being fired could be heard as well police sirens followed by the sound of a small explosion with several more following it, not even 2 minutes after the firefight that seemed to be going on the otherside of the city bullets began whizzing by Gilanis head causing for him to duck down and the light IFV soon began to return fire its autocannon sending fire down range, the highly tensed Azeni forces guarding the city had spotted his platoon and were opening fire on them trying to defend their city. Gilani aimed his rifle and slightly squeezed the trigger popping off a few shots in the general direction of the enemy before getting back into cover.
The Battle of Rakshan had started.....

[Vanquaria]

Negotiations for the Future

Jet en route to Helghan

Scott Esic wiped pieces of bread crumbs gently from the sides of his mouth as the nation's most famous jet soared smoothly through the skies of Vanquaria, in bound for landing in the Helghan Empire.

Despite his own wedding literally being in less than a couple days there was much, much work to do. Negotiations with the Rattean government on the Aratoas crisis had occurred just recently. Though he had not expected less the flair displayed by the Ratteans during conference was striking. The Valaran Empire too were in close contact with him and relevant Dominion delegates.

No matter the international reaction, as his father the late Vlad, had taught him you must keep your eyes on the road. And that simple lesson had never left Scott. But now, it was time to turn sight to a totally different but definitely not unfamiliar geopolitical affair that was currently a hotbed in the global stage right now.

The Azenyanistan Crisis. More like the...3rd? 4th? Scott could'nt remember just how many major incidents Vanquaria had been involved in with the hotbed of a country. If he had to be honest the entire region was a political hotbed but it seemed every passing day recently that Azenyanistan was always at the centre of it.

However, all that was to change, in Scott's eyes. Taking his mind away from everything; the Donnerland war, the island dispute, his marriage ceremony with one of the most stunning women in the world...to focus on this very issue alone.

''Sir, video connection has been made with the representatives from the AZN as well as the SYACIN," the voice of one of his myriad of state secretaries interrupting his thoughts abruptly.

Fortunately Scott was now in the state of focus he needed to be. Walking down the small hallway of the jet into an enclosed, large room where sat multiple advisors and military commanders he was seated at the upper most central seat on the cylindrical round table. On the other side of the wall was a live video feed of the leaders of the AZN and the rebelling SYACIN faction.

Staring at them solemnly Scott was first to speak, ''Ladies and gentleman...lets skip cordial greetings shall we and get right down to the topic on hand which will be the future of your beloved country, Azenyanistan."

[Sishanite Sornia]

Rakshan, AZN

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! They’re going after the city!” Shouted a police officer armed only with his service pistol. She raised her weapon to fight back but failed once she felt a few rounds strike her in the chest, forcing her down just as more police officers, soldiers and desperate citizens came to fight the invading paratroopers.
Vehicles burned as they were either destroyed by Pakiranistani explosives or by stray rocket propelled grenades launched by the defenders.
A great number, probably 30, attempted to hold back the Pakiranistanis until reinforcements arrived. But only a few came to help them, establishing a line against the assault.
For now, they were the first to respond under the command of Lieutenant Narras. They had some machine guns, a few RPGs and their usual small arms but nothing more than that. As they fought, they prayed that they would make it.
Elsewhere, there were many attempts to hold back the assault. But they were just tired, battle-hardened men and women. The tanks they had and other kind of vehicles were far in the city center and they didn’t know if the enemy took it already or not.
All they had left to lose was their lives.

Dosardinia, AZN

The secretary of all AZN forces stood still before a sea of men and women and their families. Some were generals. Others were police officers. The rest were public servants or mere citizens of a dying country.
On her hands, the fate of millions. Before this, she remembered the words of Solas Ester, the president of the SYA and Sornia.
“The end for your country is near, you know. Once your country disappears, peace will return to the land you call Sishai. While I and my people call it Zaicas, I will acknowledge what your own would consider it to be.
The point still stands however. Your time is up. Probably ours as well. That is if we do not survive.
For the whole world will once again try to save your people. But they are exhausted of you. They tire of you. And you know it. You feel it. In every word they speak to you and in every action they take with you. And you also must realize…that death for your country is probably the best way for you to go out. What do you say?”
Aya looked down on her desk. She saw the papers. She knew what it all said. What it all meant.
Mistakes were made. They abandoned most of their territory. They left food and water. They did so many things. Now they had to pay for it.
Aya gathered what was left of her own courage. Then she said to all of them,

“We will surrender.”

She sat down and sighed as the crowd murmured or wept or left the room.
Soon enough, Aya called her own secretary to her table. Then she told her,
“The surrender is now official. Make the document please. Our country will surrender. And we will negotiate with whoever comes. Our war is lost. Our end has come.”
“Confirmation, Ma’am?”
Aya opened her mouth. Then she shut it and whispered,
“Little leaves fall on the sands of time.”
That was it. The secretary nodded and took her leave.
And then, once she was alone, she sighed. And she said,
“It has been done.”

At the last minute, the secretary came back. This time, there was a satellite phone in her hand. She handed it to Aya and she said,

"This is Secretary Aya speaking...oh...So the Dominion has come to negotiate with us?"

---

Video Conference Room 5


Staring at them solemnly Scott was first to speak, ''Ladies and gentleman...lets skip cordial greetings shall we and get right down to the topic on hand which will be the future of your beloved country, Azenyanistan."

Aya then nodded to the man speaking before her and said, standing up,

"Thank you. I am Secretary Aya of Azenyanistan. I and my secretary and a few others here are what is left of the government of Azenyanistan. I was about to issue the surrender of my country. I hope it is not too late to speak out."

[Vanquaria]

Negotiations for the Future

Jet en route to Helghan

"Thank you. I am Secretary Aya of Azenyanistan. I and my secretary and a few others here are what is left of the government of Azenyanistan. I was about to issue the surrender of my country. I hope it is not too late to speak out."

Nodding his head in response Scott replied, "No its not too late to speak out Secretary Aya. But its also not too late to save what is left of your country which is why I am here on behalf of the Dominion Council and its allied nations to discuss what we CAN save of your nation.

Lets take a look at a map of Azenyanistan shall we?"

A general pulled out a map of Azenyanistan onto the table for Scott and everyone else on the Dominion negotiation team to have a look at.

Taking a moment to look at it Scott did not need any conferring with his men before he put out a statement, "From where Dorsidinia, if I said that wrongly I apologise, and Sharn connect via this route the Dominion can..."

Getting a pen he drew a make shift border line across, "The Dominion government can assume provincial governance of."

Looking at Secretary Aya he continued, "I have also spoken to the Ysiti peoples. It appears they wish to come to an agreement concerning mutually beneficial membership within the greater Dominion. Their representatives are also on the live conference as we speak so we have all possible factions of the Azenyanistan crisis live right now to discuss the best possible outcome for a surrender by the AZN.

As you all know already pieces of your territory have already been forcefully annexed by hostile foreign elements such as the dictatorial regime of the Union. The only path now is humble acceptance of alternative governance to avoid further sectarian division. Secretary Aya, what are your thoughts?"

[Urran]

Dai Li, Urranese Azenyanistan

The MRAP rumbled to a stop and for the first time in over an hour, the world stopped bouncing and shaking. The endless bush and hill country replaced by a small town to one side, and a border fence to the other. Xi didn't have to leave the vehicle to see the chaos. There was loud talking, shouting, pushing, and shoving going on outside. Loud, frustrated, scared, and hurting voices, so was the way with Azenyanistan. The people were better off under Urranese control.

"This is your stop." the driver remarked. Other agents in the car with him opened the back of the heavy police vehicle and Xi deployed, fourth one into the scorching sun, taking a moment to look about.

The town seemed normal enough on the surface, if it wasn't for the giant border fence running almost directly through it. A sudden pop and screams from the women, everyone ducked, even Xi found himself grabbing his helmet and bending his knees in a squat. A trail of black smoke rose over the distance. Azuq was in that direction.

Against the fence were throngs of refugees, pushing and pulling on the wire. A gate was being heavily guarded by Urranese border enforcement and even Army soldiers. As people pushed and tried to muscle their way towards it, soldiers stood close by customs officials, who were examining papers and filling out temporary visas. There was another large, fenced area filled with the same destitute faces as the other side of the fence, though not as heavily guarded. Inside, those hat got the temporary visas were to stay in a refugee internment camp of sorts until background checks and citizenship status for the Greater Urranese Empire could be properly filled out.

"Watch the crowd." Commanded an Army officer in a loud voice. Xi nodded and began moving down the fence, along with his fellow officers, checking to make sure that it wouldn't give way under the strain of hundreds of bodies trying to get through. This was a massive humanitarian crisis, one Urran wasn't lifting much of a finger to help. In fact, they had deployed the Urranese Armed Forces, Border Patrol, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and Urranese Federal Police to help stem the tide of those coming in illegally and to hunt down those that had.

"Don't climb the fence!" Xi shouted at a young Azen man that had started to scale the massive structure. Thankfully, the boy listened and jumped off the metal cage and nearly onto others around him.

He turned his attention back towards the gate. Apparently word had gotten through that Azuq had been taken or was falling and the crowd began to reach a boiling point of discontentment.

"Back! Keep back!"

"Stay back! You will get your turn! No Shoving!"

"Move back! Get away from the fence!"

"They are rushing the gate!"

Heart in his chest, Xi ran to the gate where several Urranese soldiers and other law enforcement agents were shoving the crowd back with their guns or riot batons, only to be rushed time and time again by anxious Azens simply wanting to get on their side of the fence.

The sound of gunfire was heard as the Police MRAP came over, firing pepper balls from a remote turret on the roof, sending many of the refugees running for cover and disorganizing the crowd. They forgot about rushing the gate to focus on escaping the painful, stinging riot control weaponry.

In the confusion, Xi found himself grappling with a man of military age and, indeed, wearing an Azen military uniform. "Civilians only! Civilians only!" Xi shouted, AR-15 held perpendicular to his chest as he pushed the man back with it.

The soldier was very adamant about getting to safety and tried pushing and jumping over the young officer. Xi managed to grab the bolter by the middle and they hit the ground hard, utility belt digging somewhat into Xi's hip. The offender tried to get away, thrashing about and hitting Xi over the head with a nearby rock, though it only glanced off of his helmet.

Two Urranese soldiers came and jumped onto the writhing duo, pinning the Azen to the ground so that Xi could cuff him, which he did, securing the plastic tie wraps with a zip and a click.

Not bad for the first day of what was sure to be a long and bloody conflict.

[Valefontaine]

PROLOGUE

---

_{People's Mall
Mieszko, Soren
Valefontene Democratic Republic}

---

_{1/2/2018 - 3:39 PM VST}

---

The logic of war seems to be if the belligerent can fight, he will fight. That leaders will not surrender until surrender is academic. How is a national leader to explain the sacrifice of so much for nothing?

Well, relax, I can explain. I don't want to die...

- Frankie Goes to Hollywood, 'War'

Bianka Ziękowski — or Biko, as she went by among her friends, was browsing somewhat aimlessly about the colorful aisles of a Macrosse™[1] store with her childhood friend and squadmate, Sigmund Kosmatka. They were off-duty, of course; though the potential deployment to some third-world shithole was constantly looming over Bianka's conscience.

"How's this shirt look on me?" Bianka took a t-shirt from the shelf, holding it in front of herself to see how it'd fit.

"I like the blue-orange gradient it's got, quite the aesthetic. What language is that on the front? Isleish?" Sigmund raised an eyebrow, curious at the mysterious cool vibe the foreign language gave the shirt. The shirt, of course, read:

ＢＯＲＮ ＴＯ ＤＩＥ
WORLD IS A FUCK
鬼神 Kill Em All 1989
I am trash man
410,757,864,530 DEAD COPS

"And only 9 valets! I'm totally getting this." Bianka excitedly took a few other t-shirts from the shelf, placing them in the plastic shopping bag slung over her shoulder.

"Everytime the Solstice[2] sale begins, I feel like I can actually afford shit... thank God." Sigmund chuckled, fetching a few Macrosse™ licensed polo shirts off the shelf. Normally he wouldn't be able to afford such wear, but this was a special time of year. "You ever think we're actually gonna, y'know, deploy to Azenyanistan?" He gave her a nervous smirk, knowing full well the two of them had never fought a real war.

"It does seem like the worst of it is over." Bianka shrugged. The way things were going out there politically was quite unpredictable. She somewhat had an idea of why they were eventually being deployed, and it had much to do with oil, the global economy and humanitarianism. Or some shit like that. "Hopefully it'll be less of a mess when we do get sent out there..."

"That I'll be hoping on." Sigmund fetched a baseball-style bomber jacket off the shelf, carrying it over his shoulder as he looked about for anything else to buy. "I think I got everything I wanted. You?"

"Yup! Just one more thing..." Bianka walked down the aisle to fetch a pair of HERCULES[3] '73 VINTAGE™ sunglasses. Putting them on momentarily, she grinned. "I think this'll be everything. Let's go get it checked out."

The two headed to the cashier, setting their purchases down on the counter. The girl at the counter reviewed their purchases, tallying up the final price for them.

"That'll be Ꮴ950!" The cashier announced in an overly cheery tone. The two of them scrambled for their wallets.

"It's on me." Sigmund cracked a smile, credit card in hand. "Use your money to buy me Haozhan's Hellscape™[4]." He handled the payment, stuffing his new clothes into his shopping bags. Bianka did the same, a bit relieved she'd be spending less money than usual as she packed her new clothes into the bags.

"Much appreciated, Sig." Bianka slipped on her new pair of sunglasses, heading out of the store after they got their receipt. "I'll buy you HZHE™ when I get home. Maybe we'll play a few rounds tonight." She proposed. The vast corridors of the People's Mall were lined with advertisements of every variety, their fluorescent lights reflecting wild colors upon the marble tile flooring.

"Hell yeah." Sigmund nodded in agreement, checking his uPhone™[5] 7 to see if he'd received any messages while he had been shopping for clothes. There were the occasional DMs, ReSquawks and mobile game notifications, nothing particularly important. Suddenly, both their phones started vibrating. If this wasn't coincidence, then this was a call from base.

Bianka raised her uPhone™ 5C to her ear, answering the call after checking the number — it was most definitely from base.

"To all members of Luftatokregiment-13[6], this message is effective and immediate. Report to barracks as quickly as possible - deployment to Azenyanistan has been approved. God bless Valefontaine."

The implications were clear. It was finally time to go... but what adventures lay ahead? Only time would tell.

---

CONTEXT NOTES
[1] - Macrosse Shop - A high-end clothing retailer in the VDR.
[2] - Solstice - Winter and Summer solstices are celebrated in the VDR, part of the Polarist faith.
[3] - HERCULES - Athletic clothes brand. Think Nike.
[4] - Haozhan's Hellscape - Battle-royale themed multiplayer shooter.
[5] - uPhone - A consumer line of personal smartphones in the VDR.
[6] - Luftatokregiment-13 - Air assault regiment 13. Part of the VDR airborne, often tasked with rather important or clandestine duties.

[Sishanite Sornia]

Secretary Aya meets Solas Ester and Yisi in Aura.

4:24 AM. Thursday. Aya arrived at the SYA controlled city of Aura. She had her own guards but the Victor's didn't allow them to use heavy weapons. Or bring any kind of back up. So Aura was alone with her guards who could only utilize pistols in their defense. They waited in a medium sized restaurant that was owned by a still living Sarn making sandwiches and hot chocolate for the retiring SYA soldiers.

Many there viewed them with suspicion. Others with hatred. When she entered, one of them tried to spit his food at her face. A guard got in the way and blocked it with his arm. Another tried to trip her. She did but before reaching the ground, one of her guards caught her and brought her back to her feet.

Aya reviewed her papers while her guards sat anxiously on different nearby tables as waiters and waitresses served food to their customers as a waft of delicious meat and vegetables left the cold but at least lit dining hall.

They didn't wait long as Aya heard an official car come along and park outside the restaurant. This was it. Queen Yisi and President Solas Ester. The Victors of the Fourteen Day War.

Yisi dressed in her finest robes and Solas in her best skirt and shirt.

And all Aya had to wear was a dirty, tattered uniform she tried to clean up and iron. She sighed and waited for them to enter the restaurant.

[Sishanite Sornia]

Negotiations for the Future

Jet en route to Helghan

"Thank you. I am Secretary Aya of Azenyanistan. I and my secretary and a few others here are what is left of the government of Azenyanistan. I was about to issue the surrender of my country. I hope it is not too late to speak out."

Nodding his head in response Scott replied, "No its not too late to speak out Secretary Aya. But its also not too late to save what is left of your country which is why I am here on behalf of the Dominion Council and its allied nations to discuss what we CAN save of your nation.

Lets take a look at a map of Azenyanistan shall we?"

A general pulled out a map of Azenyanistan onto the table for Scott and everyone else on the Dominion negotiation team to have a look at.

Taking a moment to look at it Scott did not need any conferring with his men before he put out a statement, "From where Dorsidinia, if I said that wrongly I apologise, and Sharn connect via this route the Dominion can..."

Getting a pen he drew a make shift border line across, "The Dominion government can assume provincial governance of."

Looking at Secretary Aya he continued, "I have also spoken to the Ysiti peoples. It appears they wish to come to an agreement concerning mutually beneficial membership within the greater Dominion. Their representatives are also on the live conference as we speak so we have all possible factions of the Azenyanistan crisis live right now to discuss the best possible outcome for a surrender by the AZN.

As you all know already pieces of your territory have already been forcefully annexed by hostile foreign elements such as the dictatorial regime of the Union. The only path now is humble acceptance of alternative governance to avoid further sectarian division. Secretary Aya, what are your thoughts?"

Before Aya left the last city standing in the name of Azenyanistan, she replied to him with painful thought,

"My thoughts are that as long as it allows me and my people to remain alivee and that our land will no longer go through more war with the Sornians and Ysitir in place, I will go ahead and follow as you direct. If you want me to, then I will leave with my people as well.

There is nothing more I can do. I am just a secretary. I may have experience but I was meant to lead without war. So do as you may. It is over for us."

Then she thanked him and sat down.

[The United Remnants of America]

Commander Susan Grey

---

Tashanit, Aegypt

---

1/3/2018 - 11:25

---

"Where the fuck is he?!" Commander Grey wandered the halls of the capital palace of Aegypt. She threw her arms up in the air as she entered a main waiting room.

Will Jacobs looked up from his tablet. He was laying on a couch, one leg slung over the back of the furniture. He sighed and laid the tablet on his chest. "Who?"

Grey seemed to notice her second in command now and turned towards him, her cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment. "That asshole, Bugaboo. He's been ghosting me for the past fucking week! Every time I ask his secretary says he's indisposed or busy, and he won't answer his phone. I'm beginning to think that sonofabitch disappeared on us on purpose."

Jacobs picked his tablet back up and kept reading, offering a small shrug, "He's a Paki-backed tinpot dictator. What did you expect?"

"A modicum of respect?"

"Ha. And I expected hookers and booze. Guess we're both S oh L."

Grey responded with a sigh, pulling out her phone to dial Bugaboo's number again. "If the man doesn't pick up this time. He's coming back to this palace to find me in his throne."

"The king is dead, long live the queen?"

"You bet your ass."

"I'll rally the troops." Jacobs didn't move.

---

Major Astra Galinsky

---

Antarash, Aegypt

---

1/3/2018 - 11:40

---

Antarash was a larger city about 5 clicks from Port Kandiyah. It was the biggest Aegyptian town on the coast, so it was natural that the CPD task force shifted over. It was for the best; turns out that Port Kandiyah didn't take to its population being tripled by 50,000 CPD troops. Antarash was more able to accept the surge of troops suddenly taking over the city. The local government had complained to Major Galinsky about tourism being affected, but Galinsky had told them to stuff it. She hoped they wouldn't be here much longer, anyways.

50,000 troops, around fifty helicopters, a few hundred trucks and appropriated civilian vehicles, hundreds of IFVs and tanks, 33 ships, 20 landing craft, 30 submarines. All under her command. Major Astra Galinsky would've been a major general had she been born in the URA and been in the Remnant military. Instead, she was stuck here, as a CPD Major, with enough troops to topple a nation or three.

"Major Galinsky?" the Major turned around and looked at her office door. Antarash's police department had been temporarily commandeered by Galinsky and her command staff for their stay in the city. Her office was the police chief's office. Standing in her doorway was her aide-de-camp and a woman in an unmarked black uniform with vibrant red hair. "A Captain Asanov is here to see you, ma'am."

Galinsky looked the woman over and nodded. She knew Captain Asanov well. Most CPD commanders knew their counterparts, since there were only a handful of upper-echelon command staff in the under-equipped division. "Let her in."

The aide nodded and Asanov swaggered by. Galinsky looked her over. Asanov had an air about her, like she could lure in her prey. She was the commander of a squad of troops known as the Black Widows. They were specialized in long-range assassinations. Snipers and scouts. "What are you doing her, Milena?"

Asanov shrugged as she waited to hear the aide close the door behind her. "They shifted me over here from my last assignment. I'm supposed to help you out, now, I guess. Have a use for me?"

Galinsky rolled her eyes, "Of course. Classic Remnant treatment. Throw assets at the issue until it goes away."

Asanov looked around, "Nice office."

Galinsky sighed and slid lower in her chair, "I don't really need you. But I guess... Since I have you... How about you do me a favor?"

"What are you hinting at?" Asanov was immediately on guard.

"I need someone in Azenyanistan. Until I get an actual order set sent from Grey down south, I have nothing to do but sit here with my big army and waste resources. But if, say, a team of troops that are about as special forces as I can get goes in and looks around, I'd know where to go if I got the orders to go in."

"Right. So, details?"

"Take a sat phone or two and a couple humvees from the Red Claws. Tanaka should be downstairs somewhere, just tell him and he'll hook you up so long as you say it comes from me. Go south and east. Fuel up in towns as you go, but you gotta avoid Tashanit."

"Why?"

"Because Grey and the other commanders are there, and if they know I sent you without orders, I'll get canned and you'll be in trouble."

"Gotcha."

"Try to get through Syrnistan without much hubbub. And then you just have Sornia, which shoudn't be an issue since everyone there is looking at Azenyanistan."

"Alright... ROE?"

Galinsky shrugged. "Try not to shoot anyone, but your rules of engagement are to protect yourself. By the end of your trip, you should run into Paki troops on the advance. They should be helpful, but rumor has it they're being kind of difficult with us. Other than that. Try to find as much info in the area as possible. Check in every four hours. Understood?"

Asanov offered a salute and sauntered out of the office, leaving Galinsky alone to stare around at an empty office once again. "Fuck this place."

[Sishanite Sornia]

8:34 PM
Wednesday, 3 January 2018

Murder

---

The Urranese Border With Sornia

The SYACIN forces have been hunting down these refugees when they first fled the city of Azuq. For now, nobody ever told the world yet about what their counterpart, the Consordiana, a 10,000 strong force of men and women who wanted the blood of Azens to be spilled, their dignity taken and their entire memory gone. For now, the SYACIN held the tight leash around their extremist necks. No war crimes. Yet.

Captain Raller and Suna were different people with different jobs. Under the Sishanite sun, Raller proclaimed his loyalty to Sornia but kept away from making Consordianian oaths. Suna however gave her own devotion to the Consordianan cause. They were just a faction of vengeful persons. And Suna was right to join them. She lost a sister to the Azens when the government refused to grant her family aid because of the criminal record of her own brother. Then her parents died without medicine because they were too expensive for her to purchase and doctors in her area were unable to help her because they were away. When she came back after a long trip to get some for their greatest illness, which was pneumonia, they were already dead upon their very bed.

Raller too lost people but he was able to tame his feelings and use reason and military discipline...while Suna was sure to unleash it. Especially on these helpless civilians...and good for nothing soldiers.

It made their job easier that the Urranese were controlling the flow of the Azens into their own territory. So the Sornians made sure to panic the serpents. They shot machine guns at the ground close to their feet or they shot rifles into the sky. They tossed rocks at their bodies, not caring if they hurt a woman with a family or a man who could not walk on his own without his cane. Captain Raller sighed but could do nothing as his own men behaved well but not those of other officers. Sula let hers run wild. Some bashed the backs of Azens with the butts of their rifles while others dragged those on the ground and beat them with the help of their comrades.

Only the timely arrival of Major Sunder, who was a Ysitir as well as a lesser prince thanks to his ring and the fact that he came into the area on one of the best vehicles that the Azens had, a HUMVEE. His vehicle stopped then the doors flung open as he and his men armed with state of the art carbines that could have only been stolen from G171 armories in Sornia. While his men rushed to the crowds to protect them, pushing and shoving SYA troops away from harming and panicking the rest of the refugees, Sunder stomped his way over to Sula and Raller, yelling at them,

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO DO SUCH THINGS TO THEM? DID I GIVE THIS ORDER?"

"No, Sir." Immediately replied Raller, who quickly saluted the man even though his respectful gesture was ignored. As for Sula, she ignored him, even though she at first winced at hearing such a loud voice from a possibly pampered prince from Ysitir---eh whatever. The Major continued to bombard them with sharp, punishing words until Sula and Raller gave in to him by giving him the attention he wanted and actually ordering their men to stop.

It took a while. A very long while. So to speed things up, one of Sunders men, who drew his pistol out, shot the knee out of one of Sulas own. Sula reacted by attempting to lunge at the man but Sunder got in the way and pushed her away. Sula said, "Get the fuck out of my way, Sir." And at that, Sunder leaned forward, shoved her out of the way with his own weight and said, "No, I won't. And you will get out of my own way and you will answer to me as to why are you conducting such special cruelty when no orders have been given to do so."

Sula stopped. Sunder did so. That made Rallers blood chill as he remembered how Sula reacted to things when she didn't get her way. She pulled out her own pistol and aimed it at the very forehead of her own commanding officer, stating, "Then when such orders have been given, I will do it myself and I would have in advance. Why oppose me?"

"Watch your tongue, bitch." Spoke another voice. A woman in uniform, an Azen by skin color and a Ysitir by the hair and by the way she spoke. She said as she aimed her own pistol at the womans neck, "You are speaking to a prince. Even if you wouldn't be, you would be speaking to a commanding officer. So show the respect that subordinates should to their superiors."

Sula at once obeyed but with clenched teeth and a growl. She walked away as the defender of the prince went forward of him and said to Raller, who was just watching, "Talk to the Urranese." And he went away, giving another ignored salute as the woman went to the prince, who was calming down. He observed Sula as she kicked and kicked the door of one of her own vehicles. The woman who defended him had put away her own pistol while Sula hadn't. She spoke to the prince,

"Sir, all our men are accounted for. And no refugee has perished. Orders?"

"As I've given before, Lieutenant Assatiica." So the lesser officer obeyed, stepping away and allowing her superior to walk past her, to the crowd.

He would have to speak. And he hoped it would not be without violence any further.

---

Defeat

The Last Azen City

Choir

Voices of a quality that seemed menacing and victorious at the same time sang out as the engines of tanks roared through the streets while horses stepped forward and wheeled armored vehicles and trucks followed. Machine guns and auto cannons pointed at the Azen civilians and unarmed soldiers who watched the SYACIN enter their only refuge.

Ruined by bombs and artillery, it also didn't help the mood of the Azens when they heard helicopters prowl over the city and planes soar over their heads. Some ducked for cover when they did. But nothing dropped upon them. There was just the air. Dirty and conquered.

Mixing with the regulars were once again the Consordianians. When the Azens saw them singing so mightily, marching so boastfully alongside their United Armies counterparts, their knees gave way and they knelt. Others hid their faces or ran away once they realized who they were looking at. It had only been fourteen days of war and now that it was over, Consordiana held the real fear factor over the conquered.

Once a soldier, now a baker, Chifuniro Zulaykha wept bitterly along with many of the women who were with her. It was so painful to realize that once again, they were divided, they were gone, they were conquered. What more could the heavens do to punish them? Their men were taken away, their bravery was taken away and now their very existence as a nation, a united community! IT was all gone in a span of just fourteen bloody, ruinous days.

Her dark skin had not known the touch of soap for days. As did her hair when it came to shampoo. They ran out of supplies quickly. They had left everything for this city. And now, here they were. As water and food went to the back of her own mind, Chifuniro tried to catch her breath as the crowd parted, screaming and running, when a pair of Consordianian men with rifles slung away reached for her. She immediately reacted with a cursing shout in Azenish, backed off and threw her fists at them. She managed to give some blows to their faces but that earned her the raging fires of SYA rifles. Round after round slammed into her stained bakers clothes, forcing her to stumble a little then falter as she received another round to her head. Blood came out of her as easily as water when she hit the ground, her head cracking upon some rubble.

Thus began what men from beyond Sishai may never know for a long time.

[Urran]

Dagger Team, CV-22, Dosardinia, Azenyanistan

The hum of the engines was not so bad once you got used to it. In fact, after a while, it had a sort of calming effect, being quite rhythmic and almost unchanging. There was no turbulence and the flight was smooth and uneventful, despite the increasing anti air threat once one entered the interior of Azenyanistan. However, on board electronic countermeasures, coupled with the fact that it was broadcasting an Urranese IFF signal ensured their safety. None of the groups involved wanted to risk angering the region's newest power.

The Urranese soldiers inside the three aircraft, two CV-22s and one HH-47, were no ordinary ones. They were special operations forces from the Army's elite G-99 Ranger Regiment and the Air Force's pararescue and CSAR units. Orders had come from up top, secure Secretary Aya and as many high ranking Azens as possible and return them to Urranese controlled territory. Simple enough. Or, maybe not, considering that the area was a war zone.

"100 meters and descending. Prepare to fast rope."

The rotors tilted vertical and the engine noise became louder. In the first CV-22, 20 Urranese G-99 troops stood up and made their way to the back of the aircraft. The rear hatched was opened and soldiers began to fast rope to the ground below and secure the area.

The wind stirred up dust and debris and likely made it hard for some civilians to stand.

Not far away, the HH-47 dropped off medical specialists and cargo pallets for the refugees after being forced to land in a clearing.

"Find Aya! Bring back as many as you can!" the commanding officer, Lieutenant Jo Yong Kon commanded over the roar of the rotors.

"Ryokai!"

Thirty Urranese special operators fanned out and began to search the refugee camp for their target. The aircraft, with the exception of the helicopter, circled the area in an attempt to keep the invaders away. Seeing black tilt rotor aircraft bristling with door guns was a great deterrent.


Dai Li

Xi stood back up, dusting himself off as the Azen soldier was led away by Urranese MPs. His fate was uncertain. The commanders had decided that they were only taking civilians, but they couldn't very well throw him back like a fish. More than likely he would be tried in a military court of justice and locked up for a few years for being repatriated.

He strapped his rifle back to his chest and was patted on the shoulder by a colleague. "Good job."

Xi nodded, not being much of a talker. He was about to go back to patrolling the fence when the Army Captain, the one being in charge of this particular border crossing, began barking orders. Xi was too far away to tell exactly what was said but the other soldiers and police personel began running to the gate and forming a bit of a funnel into the refugee camp.

Xi jogged over to the line and turned to another Federal Police Officer. "What are we doing?"

"They're shooting civies along the fence a few miles down. We're opening the gate and letting them all in."

"Won't that cause all sorts of problems?" Xi asked, adjusting his helmet, only now noticing that it had been knocked loose in the previous struggle.

"Not if we keep them in the camp. Protect them from getting plugged by the other guys and sort through them later."

"I...guess that makes sense." Xi replied, wiping his brow. Everything in Azen was complicated. Thankfully, Urranese had come to restore law and order.

Everyone was silent as the Captain addressed the crowd with a public address system. There was some feed back, done on purpose to get the attention of the increasingly noisy and distraught crowd of civilians that might start trying to push the fence over at any moment. Thankfully, the crowd went silent as he began to address them.

"Attention people of Azenyanistan! Time is short and the enemy is getting closer! We are going to open the gate and let you in, but you have to follow the rules! Proceed in a quick and orderly fashion to the refugee camp! Follow the officers and await further instructions!" He nodded and two soldiers opened the gate for the flood of people.

Xi found himself waving an orange glowing baton to point the way for the throngs of people now pouring in. A heavy hand was placed on his shoulder, it was the Captain.

"I'm giving everyone under my command this direct order." He said in a strong whisper. "Those fools are killing Azens along the border fence. You see it you shoot them. I know you're not a soldier, but it's your duty to protect people. You took an oath Officer."

Xi nodded. So that was it. Urran WAS going to make a difference after all.

[Sishanite Sornia]

The Urranese Border With Sornia.

The troops stopped hunting the Azens to the very end of the border when they realized that the Urranese were letting them in (but not without trying to control it) and that Sunder was here. Raller went over to one of the Urranese, making sure that his own sidearm was in his holster. He then raised his hands then stopped just a few dozen steps away from them and said,

"Great job of getting those refugees into your territory. But we would like to have those soldiers in our hands, not in yours. They're cowards and if they did fight, they are good for nothing else. So give them up to us or there will be trouble."

Sunder went over as well but he dismissed the officer immediately before shaking his head at the Urranese as the refugees did not cheer and instead obeyed the instructions of the Urranese, wanting all the best chances of getting into the safety of the other side of the fence. The prince of Ysitirikine took one deep breath before he patted his uniform down and raised an empty hand to the Urranese, saying,

"I'm Prince Sunder, an officer in the United Armies of the alliance between my country and Sornia. Forgive me if I came late to control my men. Right now, they are no longer putting these refugees to any harm. As long as the Consordianians behave, there will be no trouble. Forgive those ruinous men. But I must say that it is indeed vital to the objectives given to me by my own superiors that some of these soldiers who are making their way to your side of this border...For me to claim them as prisoners of war and allow our leadership to place the appropriate punishments for serving a country that made many errors against us now and long before.

Dosardinia, Azenyanistan

Seeing a helicopter and hearing it come into the camp, with operators streaming out of its body was a sight that panicked the refugees. While there were still Azen soldiers, they were disarmed and were being arrested. The SYACIN was already in the area but they neglected to pay attention to the Urranese helicopter until it was too late.

The Consordiana, the extremist faction of the armed forces of the United Armies, was quick to respond. Under the call of Cain Mariëtte, another Sornian, he sent out twenty of his men to meet the operators while he himself left the area to inform the other Consordianians. It made things worse for everyone that the refugees either hugged the dirt or ran away, leaving everything behind. Azen soldiers who were currently pinned to the ground or to the wall tried to look at the new arrivals but were quickly taken away or beaten.

The twenty men sent out took a few minutes to move because of the aircraft. They were afraid of that one. So they decided to use caution, approaching the fanning out operators with lowered guns, shouting orders to stop and to go back and angry gestures.

[Urran]

Dai Li, Urranese Border

The air was charged with stress, resentment, hatred, and other sorts of negative emotions that one could expect to feel when in the midst of a great conflict. If you did not feel these feelings for yourself, you certainly felt them through others. Xi sure did, glancing across the fence to the Sornians every once in a while as he directed the flow of refugees.

He watched as the Army Captain, the commanding officer of the sector stared across the fence to his Sornian counterpart. He tilted his head towards a sergeant and said something in Urranese. The NCO responded with a salute and ran off to do who knows what.

"I urge you to consider keeping a firmer hand on your officers Your Grace." The young captain began, taking a few more steps closer to the border. "If they wish to cause harm to my troops or those already on this side of the border I would have to respond in kind and no one wants that I'm sure." the Urranese officer began. He had an entire company of soldiers, plus armed officers from other agencies currently under his command. A fight would not go well. "And I must apologize." he said with a bow and a very polite disposition. "But my orders are to protect the refugees from harm and to prevent your government or any other from taking them back across the border once they have made it across." He explained.

Xi listened to this, taking an elderly woman by the arm and leading her to the medical tent, a soldier taking his place to help control the flow of people coming in. So that was it then. A firefight could erupt, or the prince could go home empty handed. Everyone hoped he chose the latter.

Dosardinia

As the large CV-22s circled over head, the Urranese began sweeping the camp, asking for Secretary Aya and other Azen leaders. They were under orders to gun down anyone that presented a threat or tried to stop them.

However, diplomatic solutions were to be tried if possible. In response a a group of twenty potential hostiles, five Urranese took up firing positions behind cover and another, an interpreter to be precise, come forward to speak to the Sornians. "Go back!" he ordered. "Back or we will kill you!" he had the privilege of addressing them in their native tongue, but he meant nothing but business.

[Saradena]

"A terrible but a very common sight...It's as if Izanami* had abandoned this place"..

Room B1, Esgonian Embassy
Nusayasatt/Sovereign, Ysitirkine

---

1.2.2018, Tuesday || 1435 hours

---

For weeks, the Esgonian Embassy had witnessed the continuous hell throughout their windows ever since the start of the crisis beginning with the failed coup-de-etat attempt by the Azen Air Force, seeing and hearing all the constant fighting between the Azens and the newly-created nations of Sornia and Ysitirkine, both nations wanting the Azens and anything related to them erased off their homelands, even if it meant genocide.

Despite Esgonia's close relations with Azeyanistan, the former had not acted upon this, firstly because the government in Eldrichta was still focused on other affairs, like Donner Land, which has recently concluded, and the second reason being that they were confident enough that the Azen Government would be capable enough to handle all these threats on its own. They had the support, funding, training, and the equipment of the Unionist, Portean, Esgonian, and other nations on their disposal. In hindsight, however, they should have intervened as soon as possible. Now it was too late to do anything for Azen now. The final city for Azen is about to fall, the massive amount pf activity of foreign troops such as Namenian, Pakirani, and others was detected throughout the whole nation, and now there was a rumor that spread that the two succeeding nations would join the Dominion, a massive headache to the Federation and its Union allies. For the EIS, this was just another day at the office.

Tired of pushing more papers for Eldrichta to consume, the middle-aged EIS Director, stood up and asked the others in the office to file up the last of the reports while he goes up for some "fresh air", when he goes up to the ground floor, he is greeted with a sight similar to the early days of the Donnish Crisis. Dozens of evacuees litter the hallway after the Embassy enacted a 'Code Black' scenario, Either Esgonians, Azens, or foreigners. Some of the evacuees wounded, exhausted, traumatized. As he walks through the hallway, he spots two Marines wearing gas masks carrying a dead body, placed in a body bag. He stops the Marines, and opens the zipper of the bag, revealing an Azen male, about 30 years of age. The evacuees who see the body look away in disgust

"What happened?" he asks the two.

"Had his head bashed protecting his kids. Was all blooded and beaten when they came here. We tried to save him but it was already too late." Replies one of the Marines.

"We're taking him out back, sir. Ambassador said to burn the body and bury the ashes. He doesn't want to risk everyone here with disease if we keep the body for long." replies the other.

He then nods and tells them to carry on. He then goes over to the Ambassador to see what was going on. Along the way, he sees more evacuees, including the wife and daughter of the deceased men, who were in tears when they tried to approach his body before they were pulled away and told to stay back by the Marine guards. He goes up to the second floor and into the Ambassador's office, where he sees Ambassador Notogo talking on the phone. His assistant tells him to wait until the conversation is over as the Ambassador was in contact with the Esgonian Foreign Ministry.

"We're pulling out? when? 24 hours, I see. Yes. Yes. Okay sir, that'll be all. bye."

as soon as Notogo puts the phone down, the Director immediately approaches him.

"So, what's the news from higher ups?"

"We're pulling out in 24 hours. Eldrichta says that the whole place is 'in a volatile situation', wants all Esgonians, civilian or military, out of here."

"And Walkure?"

"They're already on it. AFCOM is sending in planes from Iodinae and Reutoa to move towards Walkure. We, in turn will wait for Walkure to send in choppers. Then from there, we'll be boarding those transports and then be transported to Iodinae, and then back home via sea. As of now, Walkure's preparing to send in choppers our way."

"Right, I'll go tell the guys in B1."

"Good. Hurry up. The sooner we get out of this shit hole the better."

The Director returns back to Room B1 about the whole situation, to which the personnel inside immediately pack up and finish their work. They begin to pack all their personal belongings, the Director as well. Next, two of the workers begin piling all unimportant documents and files onto one block while the other prepares a light and matches. While all of this is happening, three more Marines prepare thermal explosive charges to be detonated once they finished evacuation in order to destroy all evidence of Room B1 existing.

Once they were beginning to finish up, he returns upstairs to the ground floor, he is then approached by the staff that the Ambassador needed him at the Embassy's entrance. When he finally gets there, he is greeted by the Ambassador asking if B1 was all set to go.

"Yes, Mister Ambassador. B1's all set to go down when ready."
"Good. Now all we need is to finish up the entry processes and then all we'll need to do is sit tight."

Over at the entrance, there were dozens, if not hundreds of people flocking at the gate, almost all of them Azen, waiting for them to get in. Many of them had documents, while the rest were only pleading for them to get in. The Marines inspect each Azen that enters the complex, searching their belongings for any form of weapons or contraband items, and inspecting their documents, including an ID Card and a Passport. One Marine soon inspects an Azen family who were clearly scared. The children were taken in first after being searched, then came the father, which the marine inspected with his metal detector. The father then took the passport and his ID card from his breast pocket and presented it to another Marine, who checks its authenticity. Soon enough, he is allowed in, with the Marine giving him the nod. Next came the mother. She was searched the same way, and when it was time for her to present documents, she put her hands on her pocket to present her papers. But then realized that she did not have it with her. She searches frantically for it but it was nowhere to be found. Tears began pouring out of her eyes as she continued.

"Your papers, ma'am?" The Marine spoke in the Azen language. When she looks at them, she was already shaking.
"I-I don't have them.."

The two Marines looked at each other, they knew that without any of the documents, she could not get inside the embassy and they knew what would happen to her if she was kicked out of the embassy. But it was proper protocol, so they had no other option but to turn her away.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am but if that's the case then we can'-"

"Wait, Please let her in! I can't afford to lose her!" The father cries out to the Marines. The children were now looking up to the father, seeing his father looking desperate, then they too began crying for their mother. The woman tried to plead with them, and even tried to force herself into the entrance, only for her to be stopped by the Marines.

Soon enough, the Ambassador and the Director hears the commotion at the entrance and approaches the scene, with Notogo asking the Marine what was going on.

"Following standard procedure sir." The Marine immediately replies. "She has no papers with her, but her husband does. We let the husband and kids in. But not her." Just behind them, the woman begans pleading to the Ambassador, reaching out to him. The Director begins to shove the woman out of the gate before he is stopped by Notogo. Notogo then looks at the woman and the people outside the gate, all looking desperate to get out of the country, else they would be killed or worse. He has known the Azens for a long while now and had gained his trust and compassion, but now he was battling with himself to either follow protocol, or save them from certain demise.

"Let her in." he stated to the Marines. "But Notogo, you know that'll viola-"
"I know. I know. It'll be all on me." Without a second thought, the Marines allow the woman in as she quickly embraces her children, still shaking. They then began turning to the ambassador and thanked them for their generosity before nodding back to them.

"Allow every Azen you can in 15 minutes, then shut down the gates." He ordered the Marines. One of them tried to question on why before he replied. "Because they need us more than ever, Corporal. Now get on it." The Marines comply to the other and begin instructing Azens to wait in turn. They were no longer needed to present papers, but were searched and patted down thoroughly.

The Director shook his head in disbelief. "You know this would not be good back in Eldrichta."
"To hell with Eldrichta." He commented before turning back inside the building, packing up his things.

---

* - The Goddess of Creation and Death in Esgonian folklore

[Valefontaine]

WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE - ACT ONE

---

_{LFZ Gamayun
Mieszko, Soren
Valefontene Democratic Republic}

---

_{1/2/2018 - 4:12 PM VST}

---

I see them marching off to war
They're looking so heroic
I'm told they won't be gone for long...
But that's a lie and they know it

- Industry, 'State of the Nation'

Following the call, Bianka hardly had time to get home, drop off what she'd bought at the mall, change into her uniform, and call her family. The drive to LFZ Gamayun[1] was a solemn, anxious drive. This was her first deployment — no, this was the first deployment the Ludzowe Armie[2] had seen in this Millennium. Being a Sierzant[3], she was responsible for not only her own life, but the life of eleven other men and women. This would normally be a noble thing, an accomplishment. But the thought of all of them relying on her was... moderately worrying, considering she hardly had a clue of what they'd be walking into either. As she drove her Brabant 611 down the highway, the thought of such responsibilities plagued her mind.

"Just what have I gotten myself into?" She sighed, wearily looking ahead. Thank God[4] the highways weren't in a traffic jam at this hour. She had to show up on time, otherwise repercussions would be dire for sure. The buildings and urban scenery soon gave way to fields and orchards, indicating she was on the right path. It was wonderful this time of year, the trees in the process of transitioning from their autumnal hues to their typical green. She tried to take in these scenic views of nature while she drove, knowing it'd be awhile until she'd be back home again.

Azenyanistan was a complete and utter hellhole, and Bianka knew full well of this. She'd grown up seeing the news reports of atrocities and rumors of atrocities, and she'd been a rather avid frequenter of 1ku[5], where she'd kept tabs on happening threads about the wartorn country. Azenyanistan definitely was not a place she wanted to be, but this was a matter of patriotism. Bianka had left plenty of loose ends both in real life and on the web, and she certainly didn't want to die in a place like that.

Her thoughts and internal monologuing were interrupted as she noticed the hangars, ATC towers and aircraft of LFZ Gamayun. Slowing down, she made for the nearest highway exit, soon stopping at the gate of the facility. The entrance was flanked on both sides by guard kiosks, and blocked by bar gates. She rolled down the window of her Brabant, waiting for a response from the guards. The guard, who was lazily leaning back in his seat watching Avenida Valefontan[6], soon noticed her waiting. Getting up, he approached the kiosk window, leaning out to see who it was. Noting the rank insignia on her uniform, and the LAtR-13 patch, the guard immediately composed himself.

"Your papers, ma'am." He demanded, straightening his posture before a superior.

"Right here." Bianka leaned over, opening the glove compartment to get her papers. Handing them to the guard, she patiently waited while he sifted through the documents. Handing them back to her, he gave a courteous nod and raised the gate, allowing Bianka to drive in.

Parking her car outside the barracks of the airbase, she took a moment to breathe in and assess the situation. She'd joined the military to prove herself as an individual, and to challenge herself. Patriotism was a factor too, given her family's Party history. Now she was going to walk the walk, proving her loyalty to the state and her courage as an individual. She didn't sign up for this, but she sure as hell wasn't going to back down now.

Making her way across the parking lot, Bianka heard another vehicle arrive. Giving a glance, she noted the blue Varyag™[7] coupe that had just parked. It was definitely Sigmund's car, without a doubt. Stepping out, he greeted his superior with a casual two-finger salute, catching up with her while he used a plastic comb to adjust his pompadour, which was a fine chestnut color.

"Looks like we won't be playing Haozhan's Hellscape tonight, eh, sierzant?" Sigmund grinned, being sure to use the proper honorifics now that they were both in uniform. Standing near her, there was quite a well-defined height difference between the two. Bianka's shorter stature made her particularly anxious when leading a squad of eleven other, usually taller men and women, though she wasn't one to express this subconscious insecurity.

"And I was really looking forward to it, too... let's get to the others." Bianka glanced at her Kasoměřič™[8] wrist watch, noting they were on time as she entered the barracks. The barracks, rather, the one their squad was assigned to, was a two-story building, a rectangular structure they hardly ever used, as members of LAtR-13 had their own apartments, as provided by the state.

A good half of the squad was already present. While most of them were sitting on the floor or leaning against the wall, the arrival of their superior brought them to attention, everyone standing up for a salute.

"At ease." Bianka ordered. With her and Sigmund's arrival, there were now about eight of them, out of twelve. Looking to her troops, she decided to address her question to someone reliable in the team. "Máselník, do you know where the others are?" Bianka asked, looking to the young combat medic among them.

"Leonid called ten minutes ago, said he was on the way. Not sure about the others, ma'am..." Czaika Máselník had only joined last year, but she'd proven herself to be a good addition to the team. She hadn't been there during the Markeb Siege, so she didn't really have much actual combat experience. Nonetheless, she was confident, had a great deal of respect for her superiors, and was generally well-liked by her peers for her kind heart.

Just then, the door opened behind Bianka, causing her to turn around. Leonid stood at the doorway, three other men behind him. Leonid Klímek was built like a tank, and was perhaps one of the most intimidating ones in the squad. A scar ran down his shaven head, something he'd earned during a raid last year. Despite his appearances, he was a good man, and foremost a patriot. He handled the GPMG, and he was damn good at it.

"Hope I'm not late, sierzant." He burnt a cigarette into the doorframe, walking in with the three other soldiers.

Bianka shot a glance to her watch, realizing it was exactly 4:30 PM. "Right on time, Privat."

Just then, the PA system began its announcement with a two-tone beep. "All members of Luftatokregiment-13, please report to hangar seven for briefing."

WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE - ACT TWO

---

_{Lorenz Lo-68
Sornian Occupied Zone
Former Azenyanistan}

---

_{1/5/2018 - 6:32 AM AST}

---

The past three days had been largely spent in transit out of Mieszko, with multiple mid-air refuels and a single stop in Longyan. The Lo-68 was a strategic airlifter, capable of carrying troops and equipment across the globe. Half of 12. Falsczhirmkompania was aboard the aircraft, which meant Bianka was among the six highest ranked individuals onboard. As such, she'd been tasked with briefing the 71 other people onboard.

She had woken herself up at 5 AM, and had used that time to rehearse her briefing, sneak into the cargo bay to use one of the PortaBath™[9] portable showers, put on a tad of makeup, and start her day refreshed. Now back aboard the passenger compartment, she paced about, glancing through the windows while she waited for the inevitable alarm to wake the others.

Watching the cloudscape and endless landscape of mountains below, Bianka thought about how far she was from home. Valefontaine was tens of thousands of miles away, safety was tens of thousands of miles away. Even if this was a so-called humanitarian mission, this place was a lawless land, a land of terrorism, genocide and unspeakable atrocities. Survival was paramount, and she knew full well of this.

The sun was slowly rising over the eastern horizon, bathing the mountains and clouds in a reddish-orange hue. Bianka took a moment to take in the beauty of this strange, foreign land. She could the silhouette of another Lo-68 in the distance, its navigation lights off in the distance, with the occasional blinking of its strobe lights. There were eleven other Lo-68s en route to Aura, bringing with them troops, supplies and vehicles. Air support was expected to be non-existent for the next few days, until a squadron could be diverted. Naval support, furthermore, was expected to come in at least a few weeks. Logistics were going to be a problem in this strange land.

The aircraft lightly shook as it began turning, whilst making a gradual descent. In no time, they were below the cloudline, with the city lights of what was probably Aura several thousand feet below. Even from above, she could see trails of smoke billowing from various points in the city. The war ended on paper, but there was definitely still ongoing chaos on the ground.

The alarms sounded onboard, jolting the sleepy passengers awake. Lights within the passenger compartment came to life, illuminating the typically dark room. Bianka walked over to a corner of the room, taking note that the troops were already expecting the briefing. Waiting until everyone's attention was focused on her, she began the briefing she'd written based on the guidelines she'd received at the beginning of the trip.

"Azenyanistan is a land of many ethnicities. Its people have endured war and genocide for nearly the past twenty years. We, on the other hand, have not fought a war on our home soil in nearly 92 years.[10] It is only safe for us to assume that any potential enemy we face will know the land like the back of their hand, and will thus be much more adept at combat in this land than we are." Bianka paced over to one side of the room, the sunlight gleaming down on her face. She turned back to look at the troops. Many of them were eighteen, nineteen... she feared what could become of them, if things went for the worst.

"I am fairly certain all of you know of the many horrid atrocities that have plagued this country. Of what happens to those taken alive...[11] This may just be a mere humanitarian mission on paper, but we can only expect the worst in a country of such barbaristic tendencies. There are few friends we can trust in this land. The countries that now occupy the former Azenyanistan are open advocates of genocide. The only forces that can even be trusted are those of the Dominion and those of the IADA, if such elements ever show up. Everything else is either a hostile, or an unreliable independent. I am fairly certain Sornian troops would not hesitate to enact a little green-on-blue if we pissed them off sufficiently. As such, they should be avoided in most cases."

"Lastly, our mission. We answer only to our own command hierarchy. The distribution of food, water and other essentials is a core part of the Limited Contingent's mission, and so too will be counterterrorism. We are not dealing with flood survivors, we are not dealing with earthquake survivors. We are dealing with survivors of an ethnic bloodbath. We are foreigners who tread upon their homeland... do not expect to be welcomed as heroes."

Her speech was met with applause and murmurs from the troops, who certainly weren't given this much chilling detail during the pre-flight briefing. Bianka took a seat with the rest of her squad, noting the increasing turbulence as the plane began its descent for the runway of what had once been Aura International Airport. Just a month ago, this had been the site of a catastrophic battle for the now-defunct Azen Army, in which their forces had been brutally and mercilessly obliterated at the hands of the SYA. She hoped this was neither an omen or foreshadowing.

"Excellent speech, sierzant." Leonid complimented. "Couldn't have put it better myself... this place is truly gonna be a hellhole." He applied a Termablok™[12] to the MRE which he currently held in his other hand, warming up a quick breakfast meal for himself.

"Ah, that reminds me..." Bianka assessed her rucksack and its contents, fetching herself an MRE and a Termablok™ she'd brought for the occasion. Turning on the device, she began to warm up her breakfast, a simple set of toast and cheese. There also was a plastic pouch[13] of orange juice, which she had obviously removed from the bag before heating up the MRE, because drinking warm orange juice was an unthinkable travesty. The rest of the squad continued to discuss things, mainly the briefing and what they'd be doing in the rather hostile country.

"You worried about this deployment, sierzant?" Sigmund asked, checking his own appearance with a little handheld mirror and adjusting his hair with his comb. He'd already finished his breakfast, he had probably eaten during her speech. "Honestly, I think we'll be alright. I mean, we're superior to them, right?"

"Considering Valefontaine's a pretty neutral country, there's not much to worry about, right?" Czaika chimed in, a bit curious as to how the locals would perceive such a foreign military.

"There have been many wars where a technologically superior nation loses to locals who are vastly outgunned. I'm also worried they'll see us as no different from the other foreign troops in this country." Bianka sighed, clearly anxious with whatever they were about to get themselves into.

The soldiers onboard began to count down, the runway of Aura International Airport drawing nearer as the aircraft descended. Finally, the plane shook as its landing gear touched the tarmac of the runway, which was met with some resounding cheer by the troops onboard. Bianka, however, still couldn't shake off the feeling that things weren't going to be very easy here.

---

CONTEXT NOTES
[1] - LFZ Gamayun - Airbase in Mieszko, named after a mythical creature.
[2] - Ludzowe Armie - People's Army, the land army component of the VDR's armed forces.
[3] - Sierzant - Sergeant. Usually a Sierzant is responsible for the entire squad, while a Kapral (corporal) is responsible for a single fireteam, and somewhat acts as second in command to the Sierzant. Sigmund Kosmatka, Bianka's childhood friend and squadmate, also serves as second in command, as he holds the rank of Kapral.
[4] - God - Although the VDR is secular, most believe in Polarism, which is the worship of the north star. The religion has one schism, between those who worship the star Deneb, and those who worship the star Alpha Ursae Minoris. Those who believe Deneb is God are Denebites, those who believe α Ursae Minoris is God are Ursaeans. While Bianka isn't actively religious, she believes in the Denebite interpretation of the faith.
[5] - 1ku - Esgonian imageboard, extremely popular among youth in the VDR.
[6] - Avenida Valefontan - Popular Valefontene telenovela.
[7] - Varyag™ - A Valefontene automobile company. These cars are frequently used in street races.
[8] - Kasoměřič™ - A line of watches from the VDR. While they are not very expensive, they are definitely a reliable brand.
[9] - PortaBath™ - Valefontene culture epitomizes the idea of maintaining good hygiene. Partly due to culture, and partly to keep the troops sane, military deployments demand that PortaBaths be brought along. Essentially a portable bathroom, with a refillable water tank. More expensive models have heating systems, but those aren't being brought along for this deployment.
[10] - 92 years - The last real armed conflict fought on Valefontene soil was the January Revolution that brought forth the VDR.
[11] - those taken alive... - Azen's rather colorful post history
[12] - Termablok™ - A small battery-powered, rechargeable consumer food heating device. Popular among VDR soldiers, who often use the devices to heat their MREs.
[13] - plastic pouch - Capri-Sun pouch type thing, obviously

[Sishanite Sornia]

Survivors

Tahenkot Ult Tissi - Corporal of the Azen Army (DEFUNCT)

Caoilinn Ceri - Lieutenant of the Azen Army (DEFUNCT)

Elizabeta Gro - Azen Armored Corps Tank Commander (DEFUNCT)

City of Dosardinia - Close to the Refugee Camp

Following Azen military tradition, three female soldiers of the once existing Azen military cut their hair as they hid in a small house with a civilian couple. One of them, with dark skin and black hair, said, "I got Janine, Pheobe and Lammert. But we lost Vsevolod and Amani. They SYA hung them from their necks in their own homes. Looks like the Consordiana is running wild in this city." They all agreed, nodding. Close to them, their weapons and remaining ammunition. Not all Azen soldiers managed to surrender or wanted to.

Another woman, the one who wore a tankers helmet and a badge that symbolized a main battle tank that was crushing a wall, spoke up, "The camp is under attack. SYA and Urranese are probably gonna clash. That and we have to find our important brothers and sisters. If Caoilinn is right, then we will be able to join those who did not accept the surrender."

The first one who spoke said, "They say a thousand of us have not obeyed the order to surrender from the Secretary. She means well but-" The third one, who wore an officers uniform and a badge that proclaimed her rank, cut her off with "Nevermind her. Our job is simple: Fight the SYA. Protect the refugees. We must hurry."

So the three began to speed up cutting their hair with their scissors. Before every battle, females would dare to cut their hair. This was practical as well as symbolical. It took only a few moments and although they had rough cuts, they were ready for a fight. Lieutenant Caoilinn tossed to the tanker her M4 Assault Carbine while the first one, whose name was Tahenkot, as she belonged to a small tribe who lived in the desert alongside the Ayrrans, picked her own MP5 Submachine Gun up. The two went out of the house just as the LT grabbed her M9 Semi-Automatic, checked it for rounds and went out after them.

When they went out, refugees were running away from the camp as the Azen soldiers heard an interpreter from the Urranese side, their aircraft throwing dust all over the place.

"Go back!" he ordered. "Back or we will kill you!" he had the privilege of addressing them in their native tongue, but he meant nothing but business.

The SYA troops did not obey. Instead, they were about to raise their weapons at the Urranese when the three shouted at them, "Long live Azenyanistan!" The troops turned around, surprised. They were about to shoot at them first but were beaten to it by their Azen counterparts, quickly launching several rounds into their center mass with little shots missed. The LT then told the two to cover the refugees as nearby SYA troops began to react by shooting at the crowd in hopes of hitting the resisting Azen survivors. The LT herself went out of her way to attempt to wave to the Urranese, saying as best as she could in English,

"Azen! Azen! We are Azen! Azen military!"

Great Panic

Sachin Ianthe - Azen Civilian

Eligio Emanuel - Azen Reservist (DEFUNCT)

Selene Niketas - Azen G171 Agent

District of Embassies, Nusayastatt

Shouting continued. Flames erupted from parts of the city, near and far. More gunfire. It was all overwhelming for Sachin and Eligio, who were only trying to get themselves and their families out of the country. It was all over, they thought. And it was too late to fight back. All they could hope for now was to get to the embassies, to the foreign establishments, to the ones who could get them out. But it did not go smoothly. A great panic gripped the Azens as the SYA overwhelmed their military and were now squeezing a surrender order out of Secretary Aya in the city of Aura.

There were rumors that the entire world would help them. Others said otherwise. Yet there was evidence. The Esgonian embassy, for the first time in the eyes of the Azens, opened up and allowed every Azen they could into their sanctuary. Other embassies were waiting, it seemed. Sachin, a long haired woman who has never fired a weapon in her life because she had children and was therefore not OK for military recruitment, motioned to Eligio, saying "Cousin! The embassies! We have to get there! It's the only hope for our families!"

Eligio, who was still in his reservist uniform, nodded. He still felt the shame of leaving his weapon and ammunition behind. He could not protect himself or his own. Not as the SYA, according to panicking Azens who were running into the district. Shots were getting closer. That too worried not only the civilians but those who still had weapons and ammo.

A very small unit of G171 Agents who joined gangsters with their families and city militiamen who didn't want to surrender or leave was present. Leading them was Selene Niketas, a tall, strapping female agent of the G171. Right now, they were scattered all to hell, attempting to find and encourage people to defend themselves and to get those who could not out. Selene watched the running refugees with her M24 SWS while the rest of her unit either did the same thing or went out to secure the refugees, helping out those who were too slow. As they did, Selene gestured one of her guys over to her. A random agent came with her HK 416. She told this one

"You go and tell the Esgonians that there's trouble coming. And get those other embassies to do something about this too. The Esgonians can't do this alone and they won't be able to get everyone in their hands out of here in time. Go--"

Screams. She returned her eyes to the road. Bodies were on the streets. She cursed herself before she slapped her rifle and readied it. Her own men were pulling back as a technical loaded with marauding Consordianians came into their sight. Everyone with a gun checked their ammo or slapped a new one into their weapon as refugees ran past them. Selena shouted, "WELL FUCK. Just as we got a chance....Prepare for battle!"

Border

The Prince was disappointed. While he appreciated the bow, which the Azens didn't but were too busy with getting themselves out of the way of the murderous Sornians, he didn't appreciate that he had to go empty handed. And this just made his Consordianian counterpart very irritated. Her firing hand was trembling to grab her sidearm and to just shoot at the Urranese and the Azens they were saving. But the Prince did not allow that by placing his hand on the arm on his counterpart. It made her gasp in surprise and glare at him but at least it did well to prevent her from doing anything stupid.

In reply, the Prince could only say, "I'm disappointed. I will have to go empty handed but that does not mean that it would be good for me. I may be a prince but my Sornian counterparts will surely dislike what I would do today. Very well. You make go take these refugees and their protectors in."

And so he turned around and left them alone, returning to his vehicle, encouraging the men to go away. They slowly did except for the Consordianians. As they watched the last Azens enter the Urranese side, Suna made a few steps towards the Urranese side. She then made sure that she was in front of one of the Urranese helping the Azens in. And she made a gesture across her throat. She grinned at them as her eyes dared to provoke them.

[Urran]

Refugee Camp

The Urranese operators that were not busy clearing tents and buildings searching for Aya had taken up firing positions and had opened up on the Sornians. They'd halved they force, 15 taking up positions to engage the enemy while another 15 searched through the camp for the target acquisitions.

They were a well disciplined group, firing mostly in controlled, three round bursts, or single shots at a time, as precisely aimed as possible. This was, expect for the two armed with LMGs, that laid down supressive fire from behind a pair of large boulders. Dust was picked up in wisps as the Sornians, returning fire, hit near the Urranese gunners, causing them to momentarily duck for cover. A nearby soldier fired a grenade from an under-barrel launcher gave a rather rude answer. Up yours Sornia.

The two CV-22s flew low overhead in an attempt to scare off the Sornians or at least distract them from the troops on the ground and the CSAR helicopter that was currently on the ground. They were not loud in air plane mode, however, their new upgrades included a chin mounted turret and rocket pods for close air support of troops in contact. They banked slightly to show these off to the Sornians as they flew past.

"Dagger Base, this is Dagger Lead. Sornian troops have engaged strike team. Permission to engage."

"Permission granted. The Sornians and Vanquerians can't know that we were involved. Kill all enemy combatants. Take no prisoners. Leave no survivors. Let none escape. Copy?"

"Understood. Commencing mop up operation."

The lead CV-22 sped over the top of the Urranese and Azen troops, where it came to a hover, raising its nose as it came to a stop before rotating around so that the rear door was facing the Sornians. A red samurai mask was painted on the outside of the rear ramp. It lowered to reveal a gunner with a minigun that opened fire on the Sornians. VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR went the rotory gun, spilling red hot tracer fire in a sweeping motion in the enemy's general direction.

"Advance to the rear!" Ordered one of the Urranese and they did so, taking the opportunity to find better cover.

"Just got orders from home base. Kill them all."

"Ryokai!"

Border

Xi had returned from escorting the Obaasan, or, "old mother" to the camp and was told to secure the gate. He secured his cloth face mask , secured the strap of his gun around his shoulder, and went with a member of border patrol to close up the gate. The last of the Azens had just entered and walked passed them as they each went to a door.

There were two doors in the border fence, seperated from one another by a standard length section of chain link. This could be removed to make a double door for vehicles if they decided to set up a road through the area at a later date. The only thing standing between safety and almost certain death for the Azens? A 20 foot chainlink fence complete with two guard towers and razor wire across the top.

Army soldiers stepped back and stared down their Sornian counterparts on the other side. Xi paid them little mind and went to close the gate, until Suna approached him that is. He was going to pay her no attention at first. Urranese were not a rude people by nature and structure of culture and generally responded to rudeness by ignoring it while secretly wanting to strangle the offender. Xi had learned how to ignore rude people even better than most at the Federal Police Academy in riot control training.

He paid her no attention. It was beneath him to respond to her idle threats. That was, until someone shouted "gun!".

In an instant the police training kicked in. Xi tackled Suna and wrestled the smaller woman to the ground, kicking up dust and flipped her over so that she was face down, small rocks and dust being ground into it by the man that was now atop her.

"Stay down! Don't move!" Xi ordered. Violent criminals in Urran were rare, but on the occasions when he had handled them, Xi knew better than to give them an inch of wiggle room.

Two Army guys came over and pointed their guns at the offender, a third, a woman and an MP, secured tie wraps around Suna's hands and began patting her down while Xi kept her face pressed firmly into the dirt and the majority of his weight pressed onto her center of gravity.

Urranese soldiers came to the fence and fanned out in front of the spectacle with their weapons drawn to keep the Sornians back.

"Gun!" shouted the MP, removing Suna's sidearm.

Xi got off of her and he and the MP stood her up and blindfolded her. She was then put in the common position that Urranese use to transfer violent criminals or POWs. She was bent over at a 90 degree angle with her hands held as high above her back as they could reach without causing too much discomfort and was lead around this way by her wrists.

"Walk!" ordered Xi.

Suna was marched to a police vehicle and thrown not too gently into the back where the door was secured behind her.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You are a soldier of a foreign state. You have no right to an attorney by that measure. You will be subject to the laws and regulations in the code of Urranese military justice. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" she was asked.