A Nation Divided (IC | TWI ONLY | CLOSED)

[Noronica]

"A Nation Divided"

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A TWI Roleplay - IC

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The Charbagnian Federation Dispatch

The Charbagnian Federation has laid dormant for several centuries, using its past wealth and diplomacy to ensure it remained neutral in any Southern War, funding both sides of the war and exporting its mineral wealth to those who would seek harm to it. In the 1950's, Charbagnia underwent a military coup, installing a Soviet Government. With increasing militancy, Charbagnia became increasingly aggressive, toting its military might as a force to be reckoned with. The state collapsed in the 1980's and Charbagnia became a Federation, yet its authoritarian routes remained in full-force. Several occurrences of ethnic tensions sparked in the 1990's, with some of the French Minority in Charbagnia protesting against the Government favouritism of those of Germanic descent. Protests lead to violent clashes and soon any mention of dissent towards the German people was enough to land a person in the hands of the State's Secret Police.

Now the Charbagnian Federation, the country has seen increased political and ethnic tensions, boiling up into violent clashes between various factions and the authorities. On 5th October, violent protests reached international news after mass casualties and the resurgence of illegal political parties. The LPLG (Liberté Pour Les Gens) began calling for an independent French State or a Free Charbagnia on the 7th October, yet this was ill-timed, as the PSDP (People's Socialist Democratic Party) forcefully took the City of Harelbeke under a Revolutionary Military Government. This lasted for merely a day, as on the 8th October the situation hit boiling point with the chemical weapon Sarin and public executions taking place by a so-called vigilante group, against those who took part in the declaration of an independent state, or were known dissenters to the Charbagnian Government.

Noronica's League Ambassador, Rodger Beckett, informed the League of a Noronica-backed resolution to sanction League investigations on the Charbagnian Federation, to discern whether or not it was Sarin that was used.

Meanwhile, on the island, several nations are already present in the Federation and coming to their own conclusions over the situation. Besides, the country wasn't called "L'île de l'Or" by its citizens for nothing.

Reminder - This RP is TWI ONLY, please do not join if you are not on the map of TWI and do not have established factbooks. Those who are in TWI, please join by posting on the OOC thread.

[Noronica]

The small people are the ones to fall, no matter their involvement or lack thereof. Such is the nature of war.

That was the nature of Leo's situation. Despite the physical damage, he was able to remember the attack in vivid detail. He had been in the garden after his mother gave him washing to put out on the clothesline. Of course, this had come after an extensive bout of arguments with his mother as Leo was rarely out the house and he hated the washing, the dry texture of the clothes gave him the chills, so he tried to avoid it as much as he could. However, parents seem to have an innate ability to sense their child's displeasure, so Leo never got a smack or a grounding, it was the clothesline, a much less lethal but equally painful noose. Storming out of the garden glass doors, Leo tried to throw as much of the clothes on the line as possible, ignoring the violent hand-gestures of his mother, he had seen her eyes go wide when she was angry before. She'd go back to staring at the TV screen she was so addicted to anyway. Mouthing 'Bonjour ma petite merde!' to his darling mother, he turned back to the clothesline and flung the clothes onto the wire putting pegs on random parts of the clothes in an effort to hurry his most hated job.

Once his painful task was finished he began to hear knocks on the glass doors which became increasingly loud, to which Leo ignored and stuck his middle finger up at the approximate location of the house before walking towards the muddied football in the corner of the garden. Kicking it around the grassy patch, a smirk appeared on his face as he began to get into it. Turning to a few flower pots, he slammed his angled foot into the ball which burst into the flower pots. In mock admiration of himself, Leo fell to his knees with his hands to sky,
"And he scores, the man of the hour! L'homme de l'heure!"

His eyes looked directly into the sun, a defiant grin on his face.

He heard a faint sound, a hiss getting closer to him. Then an explosion.

---

Waking up, he heard screaming and various other loud voices. Leo tried to open his eyes but his body was too focused on the sudden overwhelming pain. When he tried to move his arm the muscles seemed to contract and flex, which emitted a scream from his mouth. His whole body was in total pain as his muscles did not seem to be able to relax, instead flexing more and more. A voice next to him told him to remain completely still, the voice then tried to explain why, something about Acetylcholine which Leo did not understand. He just wanted the pain to leave his body. He could just feel the soft bed under him, yet it was hard to detect due to the horrific and disorientating mix of noise and pain. Hearing the screams, he managed to make out one word before blacking our again,
“Maman.”

---

It had been a week since he had in the Hospital. He had grown friendly with the doctor who apparently had a boy his age too. She was kind and had helped Leo through the trauma of losing his eyesight and accepting the loss of some of the mobility of his body. He had recovered slowly, yet whatever it was that affected him was meant to have a fast recovery, so the doctor told him that he would be out soon. The doctor apparently wasn’t allowed to tell him what it was exactly that he had been attacked with, as every time her asked she either avoided the topic or patted him on the shoulder gently.

Switching on the TV, he was automatically given the news channel. The headline was blasted into his ears by the eager presenter, “THE ISLES TURN AGAINST CHARBAGNIA”. According to the presenter, a new resolution had been passed in the League of The Western Isles which permitted an ‘invasive force’ onto Charbagnian territory. He did note that the presenter was careful in the words used as it seemed they had been told to not be too aggressive. A few days ago, he checked the news and heard that the Government was preparing to ‘unleash the will of the Charbagnian People’ on the EUSR, yet now they were holding back the bites slightly. Of course the headline was flashy, yet it was all that was said that was even slightly angry, everything else was suspicious.

The next segment shocked him with the presenter’s guest who was a Professor at the University of Harelbeke,
“It is ridiculous that there are claims of a chemical attack in this great city. There is no evidence of any chemical weaponry being used here, instead a swift conventional attack on the rebels by a vigilante group.” When asked about the hospitals, the Professor’s pitch increased, “I hope they visit the hospitals in Harelbeke as there is no one there that has been affected by chemical warfare. They will find nothing.”

Leo, despite the pain of the movement, threw the remote at the direction of the TV,
“What about me?”

After stewing in his bed, he turned to hear the sounds of screaming and short blasts down the corridor. He began to get nervous and tried to lift himself out of bed yet found that he could not. Pressing down on the mattress with all his might did nothing but generate sweat and immense pain. The noises were getting closer and despite them being faint, Leo knew what they were, gunshots.

His room’s door was slammed open and the sound of a man dressed in heavy gear stormed through, his pistol cocked. The man stopped and walked towards Leo who thought he heard a kind yet sad sigh emit from the man. Leo recognised it as the sound of a sad father by the way the man stopped and shuddered in his breath. Tears formed in Leo’s eyes yet the boy remained miraculously still, perhaps due to the tiredness or immense trauma he had undergone.

He did not know the man, yet he allowed himself the familiarity, one last time, “Will it hurt Papa?”

[Atnaia]

Ambassador Josa Katch scanned the dossier in her lap as the tow car bounced towards the Charbagnian government buildings. It was all information she had memorized, of course, but she was rounding off the edges of her knowledge. She needed to make sure she didn't make a fool of herself or her country. Atnaia was Wessich, and Wessich didn't appreciate being made a fool of.

The car pulled up and Josa flipped the dossier shut. The door was opened by security and she stepped out, smoothing down her pants. She was a young woman for her job, only thirty-six, and dressed in the fashion of powerful women half the world over; black pants, short black heels, pearlescent white blouse, black jacket, stud earrings. Her white-blonde hair was cut into an asymmetric bob. People often assumed she dyed her hair, but the only chemicals she let near it were shampoo. A drop of dye would have ruined the angel-thin, perfectly smooth locks that she was unreasonably proud of.

Genetics had been kind to her in other ways as well, and she knew that her looks were at least a part of the reason why she had her job. People let their guard down around pretty people, she found. They assumed that pretty people were stupid, particularly pretty women. Most men couldn't conceive of a beautiful woman being anything more than either a prize to be worn on the arm or a child to be talked down to. If Josa had a dollar for every time she had heard the words "Let me explain, sweetheart" from a coworker, colleague, friend or significant other, she would have been rich enough to actually afford to be stupid.

But Josa was not stupid, and she knew that Wessich was not most men. Wessich knew Josa wasn't stupid, Wessich didn't avail himself of the services of fools, and he had handpicked her for this job. She was going to get that right.

Of course, even with Wessich, her looks came into play. As she was led towards the Office of the President of Charbagnia, she reminded herself of the president's reputation. Kurt Weinreb was a man from the old school of politics and the old school of personality. He had a reputation for how he viewed and treated women, especially younger woman with good looks. At this point in Weinreb's life, almost every woman was younger, and Charbagnian women were generally fortunate in the looks department. Needless to say, Wessich knew that Josa's particular brand of beauty was Weinreb's preferred aesthetic, and assumed that the old man would do exactly what men had been doing for Josa since she was sixteen years old: letting their guard down.

The security led her through halls and rooms to a door, and after knocking on the door, into an office. The office was off-putting to Josa. The reconstruction of the government buildings in Atnaia had left most of them a sort of hyper-modern fusion of glass, steel and concrete, with some of the old facade poking through in places. Josa had grown comfortable with that. Not so here. The offices of the Charbagnian president were traditional, perhaps even a little old-fashioned. Portraits of former presidents glared down at Josa from around the vaguely octagonal room. Tall windows on the far side, taking up three sides of the octagon, let in an incredible amount of light. Couches took up an area in the middle of the room, where important figures could sit in quorum with the president when action was required. The president's desk sat surrounded by the windows, and the president sat behind it.

He was an old man, with a deeply lined face. As Josa was led in, he smiled. It was a kindly smile, a grandfatherly smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes. He stood and stepped around the desk, extending his hands for a shake.

"Good day, Miss Katch," he said in English, their shared language. He pronounced Katch like "catch".

Josa extended her hand to shake, ensuring that her grip was an order of magnitude weaker than it could be. Weinreb clasped her hand in both of his. His eyes took a quick study of her face.

"President Weinreb," she said, pitching her voice up a tad. "It's very good to meet you. I apologize, but it is pronounced Kat-ktt."

She emphasized the glottal stop. The old man before her, still gripping her hands, raised an eyebrow. It was a strange sound to hear isolated in other languages, she knew. "Kat-kyu," he attempted to imitate, the sound all on his tongue.

"You could say Kat-kah," Josa smiled. "That's a bit of a Kalder accent. Very masculine."

Weinreb chuckled. "Katch," he said, pronouncing it Kat-kah as she had suggested. "Alright then, Miss Katch. Please, sit."

He gestured at the couches, not the seats before his desk. There was water and a tea pot on a tray on the coffee table there. As Josa sat down, she was glad she had chosen pants and not a skirt today. It was hard to sit in these low things without crossing your legs, and from his position in the couch on the far side of the table, Weinreb would have gotten a bit of a gander as she adjusted in even a fairly modest skirt. Josa had her limits.

"So," Weinreb said, "may I interest you in tea? Water? Coffee?"

"Coffee would be excellent," Josa replied, and Weinreb looked at a guard, who nodded and went out to fetch hot coffee. Weinreb himself poured himself a cup of tea, and by the time Josa's coffee arrived, he had just finished adding cream and sugar.

"So, Miss Katch," he said. "I must say that your government disappointed me."

Josa leaned forward and added two sugar cubes to her coffee. Weinreb's eyes were on her. She knew her blouse was a tab loose at the front, and knew where exactly his eyes were on her. "I'm sorry?"

"The League vote," he said. "Your Barburj voted in a way I was...not entirely agreeable with."

Josa leaned back. She stirred her coffee. "I know. It was a matter of necessity. The direction the vote was taking was obvious. To be the loan holdout would have appeared...what's the word?"

"Controversial?"

"Adversarial," she adjusted. She took a sip and was pleasantly surprised by the coffee. It was beyond good. Well beyond good. She stared down at it, unable to keep the shock from her face. "We are having enough issues as things stand."

Weinreb nodded. "I am well aware. Do you like the coffee?"

"Indeed," she said. "Charbagnia doesn't grow coffee, does it?"

She knew it didn't, of course.

Weinreb shook his head, chuckling. "No, no. It's imported. I am concerned that the resolution that the League passed will stop those imports however," he raised his own cup. "And these imports. Tea pansy. I'm quite fond of it, you know."

Josa looked at the creamy tea. She almost gagged. You didn't add cream to Atnaian pansy tea. It was tantamount to heresy. She didn't say that, however. If the old man liked drinking what amounted to orange juice and tooth paste, let him be. "The resolution didn't mention embargoes."

Here came the words. "Let me explain, Miss Katch," he pronounced Miss Katch like sweetheart. "The actions of the international community going forward are going to be quite...detrimental to Charbagnia. I doubt imports like these will continue to flow. That wouldn't suit either of us, I think."

Exports to Charbagnia made up a minuscule component of the Atnaian economy, Josa knew. Compared to the embargoes during the worst of the Ticking Flu, this would be a drop in a bucket. The real reason Atnaia was here was because of those weapons, and a need to prevent Charbagnia being the spark that caused an international witchhunt. The things being brewed in ARK and the SPD couldn't be swept away because of one tiny little backwater like this. Their government needed to be protected from itself.

"You're right," Josa said. She licked her lips. "That's why I'm here, after all. So, where do you suggest we start."

Weinreb smiled. "Let me explain..."

[Noronica]

"Ah!"

Bump.

"Fuck!"

Bump.

"Piece of sh-"

SLAM.

Slamming on his breaks before hitting a large rock on the road, Friedrich now knew why they said only desperate farmers and crack-heads drove down the winding roads of rural Charbagnia. The locals had a special endearing term for those who decided to brave the roads, 'Amant fou de moutons' if they were French, or 'Kaiser der Idioten' if they were German. Perhaps the German nickname was slightly tamer, yet they both held the same general meaning, 'don't'. Yet due to Friedrich's special mission of high importance, as put by his senior officer in the FIS, he was told to grin and bare it. Besides, a Noronnican operative was a fearless and strong operative, one that braves the odds and all that crap. Friedrich was perhaps being a little harsh, he was the one to join the FIS, yet he was allowed times like these when he greatly desired to be fighting an evil megalomaniac in a volcano-lair. Instead, he was a cog in a much larger wheel, evident by the fact that he was driving an ancient Charbagnian 4-wheeler taking pictures of anything that looked anything like a military facility.

Luckily, Charbagnia was simple in its divide between State and Public, anything important or to do with weapons was put straight under State oversight, no matter how much. There was always oversight. That meant that there was always a telltale sign of Government anywhere they stuck their sticky fingers, and the locals tended to be quite loose-lipped about Government operations in the right situations, especially if they were French. Maybe Friedrich was biased due to his Germanic heritage, but it was true for a simple reason, the French hated the German-centric Government. Therefore, it was after a short bit of persuasion that got several locals talking, especially because he had never gotten a German accent having only one part of his family being German, so he was always seen as a tourist rather than a German to these locals. Here, he was 'Freddy Atton' a name he hated but it was a necessary evil he supposed.

Getting in a good position, he claimed an excellent vantage point over the alleged facility, which, by the looks of it, was a research facility. Getting a few shots, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a small convoy was making its way on the road towards the facility. Zooming in, he noted, despite the blurry quality, the convoy was carrying some pretty heavy equipment. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw some of the bigger vehicles.

However, it was two of the bigger vehicles that caught his eye, each carried a large missile on the back of them that drew the breath out of Friedrich's mouth. His memory brought to mind his identification training and he spoke loudly,
"Oh my God."

They were nuclear missiles.

---

Foreign Intelligence Service Headquarters, Nolon City, Noronica

"What the hell do we do? Our operative may have just photographed the Charbagnian Nuclear Program reborn from its Soviet ashes. With all due respect Victoria, we should be leaking this information." Victoria tapped frustratingly on her desk, her eyes burning through the windows of her office, the victim of her icy glare being the Noronnican Federal Assembly.

Victoria spoke liberally and harshly, she was never one to mince her words despite the high office she was talking to, "What do you expect us to do? Tell the Isles? Tell the media? No. Don't you see Joshua? If we leak this, a lot of operatives will be uncovered after the huge purge which will surely come after this. We already have reports of Sarin victims being executed, why on earth would we tell a bunch of paranoid nations that yet another oh-so-evil state has nuclear capabilities? For all we know, these could be counterfeit for later bargaining usage if the going gets rough, or these could be missiles without warheads."

Joshua didn't hold back either, "Victoria, don't be a dunce, you saw those seismic reports, they are undergoing nuclear tests again and you bloody-well know it. Don't try and back down from this. Besides, our operatives can survive a purge, they did it before during many a Charbagnian crisis, and anyway, what is a few cracked eggs against a masterfully scrambled egg ready to be served to the greedy hands of the international community? I want those pictures in the hands of the NMC before midnight, whether you have to do it through a toilet cleaner, just get those things into the public eye."

"Joshu-" Victoria heard the long tone and growled, throwing the phone into the wall. Hearing the scrambling of feet and the door opening, she glared at her aide, "listen very closely."

---

Hermwelder International, Hermwelder, Charbagnian Federation

Harry pulled out his phone from his pocket as he leaned against the wall of the airport. His colleagues around him were mostly doing the same, but it was funny how they seemed to form groups. It seemed the international community was reflected even upon their supposedly-neutral League-sponsored scientists. Yawning, he flicked through his apps and found his favourite one, the NMC News app. The screen changed and the first headline was that of a blurry-photograph displaying a military truck carrying a large missile. What struck him was the headline of the story, "Leaked images of Charbagnian Nuclear trucks".

Turning to the Corindian investigator, Dr. Martín, who was walking back with his hot dog in hand, Harry showed him the screen and soon the entire group was talking about the news post as others checked their phones and various news sources. Harry grew very concerned, knowing that with the added concern over more weapons of mass destructions, the investigatory group would become a much more divisive subject for authorities. Already, Harry could see several guards and others check their own phones and he swiftly became very self-conscious about the various League logos over most of the group's luggage and clothing.

[Atnaia]

Weinreb stood as Josa was shown into his office. He didn't smile, not fully at least, and just waved a hand at the chair across the desk from him.

"Miss Katch," he said. "Good to see you again."

Miss Katch. She hated that. It should be Ambassador Katch. Of course, correcting him was both out of place and out of time.

"Mr. President," she said. She settled herself into the chair. "How are you this morning?"

"I would say well, but I think you would know that to be misinformation."

Josa cocked her head. "Perhaps. You refer to the leaks?"

Weinreb leaned back in his seat and nodded. "You can understand my consternation. This does not do well for the Charbagnian position. Not with the League eyeing us like a hungry predator."

Josa folded her hands on her lap. "I suppose not. I'm sure you wouldn't be surprised that I asked for this meeting for that very reason."

Weinreb's eyebrows came together, forming a deep stressline across his forehead. "Surely this isn't enough to destroy Atnaia's interest in..."

Josa shook her head. "No. No, of course not. We were well aware of what we were getting into."

"Then what?" the President asked.

Josa touched the tea pansy pin on her lapel. Finding the clasp loose, she tightened it. "President Weinreb, you need to get ahead of these leaks. You sit at a precipice. How you portray yourself now will speak volumes in the history books."

Weinreb frowned. "I am well aware, Miss Katch. I have been in this game far longer than you have."

"I apologize, Mr. President," Josa replied. She pitched her voice up a half octave, just enough to trigger that deeply rooted part of Weinreb's brain that would see her as childlike in response. "I would never try and lecture to you about politics. Your experience is far deeper than mine. I'm simply relaying the message of my nation's leadership."

Weinreb's frown decreased in severity. "Of course," he replied.

"The Hegemon has made a suggestion," Josa continued. "Do you know of Chris Taubadel?"

"He is one of your Quorum members," Weinreb said. "He's been taking control of media relations on behalf of the Quorum. Some would call him your Hegemon's chief propagandist."

"Perhaps," Josa said. "It's not for me to say what some people would call him. It is for me to say that the Hegemon has suggested a meeting between Taubadel and yourself. He can provide you some words of wisdom on how to construct your message in the upcoming ordeals."

Weinreb turned the idea over. "Taubadel would come here?"

"I think that would be for the best," Josa said. "Naturally, we'd announce that he was being sent on behalf of the Hegemon to try and discuss diplomatic alternatives to increasing tensions."

Weinreb remained silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "We could be amenable to that."

Josa smiled her best, brightest smile. "Excellent, I wasn't looking forward to telling the Hegemon 'no'. I'll have his aides contact your office."

Weinreb nodded. He smiled again. Standing, he held out a hand. Josa stood and took it, and the President clasped her hand in both of his. He never shook a man's hand that way. There was an oddly stroking rhythm to it. "Miss Katch, a pleasure as always."

Josa left the smile on her face. "Mr. President."

She turned and left.

[The Socialist Republics of Combrekniza]

Knock,Knock,Knock.

"Mister President?",The Minister of National Security would enter his room early at 3:00 AM in the Morning.

"What is it?",The President would wake up hearing the knocks and looking at the Minister

"We have reports......Charbianga has Nuclear Weapons in it's Disposal, The Internet has gone wild from the pictures with this discovery i suggest we prepare our Armed forces or send agents down on the Ground."
The Minister of National Security would say.

The President,Vladimir Tolya would raise his eyebrows and then head out in his Pajamas in a hurry to see the Prime minister that is convinently,outside his room.

"Imran, What the hell is happening? i'm getting reports of Fucking nukes at the hands of Charbianga!" The president shouts in clear shock.

"I'm sorry Johan but this is shocking to me as well, we didn't know how the Charbiangans could have revived their nuclear Program this fast, but i suggest we mobolise our army, Prepare our Missile defense Systems, and head to Defcon 3, we should prepare for the worst for times like this, i'm more than sure that the Charbiangans are gonna be negotiable at this point.." The Prime Minister would say.

The President would Respond with a sigh "Your right Imran....., god i wasn't prepared for this, i never thought it would have came to this, enact a emergency order, mobolise the army, and prepare our Nuclear Defense System.
Let's hope for the best to come out of these bleak times, and assemble a council meeting tommorow, 8:00AM Sharp."

"Alright Tolya, as you wish"

The Prime minister would head out of the Presidential building to the Cold outside of Vastovgrad, entering his armored GAZ Patriot heading to the Council Building with an Armed Convoy, during his ride he would see groups of protestors pass him as police block them from getting to his Convoy, the Protestors would shout that they demand the Government to do something about the Threat, this would spark a Clear message that Combrekniza is preparing for war, as he approached the council building he would call the Head of the Armed Forces, Raising the Defcon Level, and partial Mobolisation of the Army, as he enters the building he would inform the council about the meeting tommorow.

By Tommorow, the council is up in flames for the next few days as they debate, and Discuss on what to properly do on the Situation and with recent news of Covonants current stance on the Canal closing, Some would say that Military action is needed, Some say that Diplomacy is the way, but the current situation is clear, Combrekniza is preparing for a attack, and Combrekniza's Response will not end up nicely.

[Noronica]

Harelbeke Army Base, Harelbeke, Zurzach

Harry decided that he despised the guides taking them around the facilities. They were all female and wore silly frocks and uniforms that were cheaply made and mass-produced. It seemed that every Government-sanctioned guide was wearing the same thing. They had eye-watering grins plastered on their faces constantly and spoke with expression and emotion that seemed to be ineffectively glued onto the cold and blank person underneath the grins. Their speech constantly included the ‘Grace of our President and his Government’ but it was never too much. They did not want to appear as if they deified the President as they knew when the praise would seem too much, but it did seem as if the President had personally constructed the military bases and research facilities from his own hands.

Of course, whenever questions became too personal or too close to the simmering truths underneath the thinly-veiled lies, they moved on with a flash of concern washing over their faces. It was as if they didn’t expect League investigations to be as thorough, instead expecting morons who knew nothing about military-grade science. One particularly humorous episode was after the Oster representative asked a rather detailed and pointed nuclear question and the guide seemed to have a mini-meltdown after requesting that the group stay inside while she took a step outside. Once outside, the group watched the window as she worriedly and hurriedly spoke to her superior on the phone. After that they had an armed guard alongside them to remind them that they weren’t here to conduct League investigations, merely agree with how amazing Charbagnia was and go on their jolly way back home.

Yet Harry disagreed with that philosophy, partly because he was getting paid a neat sum for this investigation and he had heard from higher-up the food-chain that the Prime Minister himself was pitching in if Harry could dig up some dirt. Obviously someone wanted a reason for more power in the South, but it wasn’t Harry’s responsibility to question, hell, he knew that if he did he’d have a quick meeting with the Bureau and they weren’t exactly happy when Joshua was angry. Besides, call him simple but his usual salary and job weren’t going to give him much credibility by themselves, and being a part of a highly-watched League investigation? That would get him the name.

Walking through a lengthy corridor and half-listening to the (for once) interesting historical commentary provided by the guide, Harry noted that this facility was different. It was called an ‘Experimental Military Base’ which meant that it combined both military storage and barracks, and a research facility, which, by the looks of it, seemed pretty well-funded. The research facility was a military scientist’s heaven, as it had all the bells and whistles that were needed to make the raw power conveyed by military technology. Therefore, the guards were heightened today, which meant that the League Peacekeeper that was with them was flanked by almost a full security-detail which were all observing the group and waiting for them to say the wrong thing so that they may swoop in and swallow the group whole. The group had hit the jackpot it seemed as every scientist they saw quickly returned back to their offices and any that were caught in the corridor got barked at by the Charbagnian Security. Even the guides were more aggressive, denying any questions that even remotely discussed Charbagnia’s less-than-legal military programs.

However, Harry had never really been very good at doing what he was told, especially if he had an incentive in the form of Noronnican state money. Smiling along with the guide, he made his way slowly to the front of the group as to not arouse suspicions, putting on a really dumb smile as if to seem interested. Others in the group saw what he was doing and allowed him through, especially because they all saw the sign coming up, ‘Achtung! Gefährliche Stoffe im Inneren!’ or, ‘Attention! Dangerous Substances Inside!’ The guide was so absorbed in her story and the group’s sudden piqued interest that she didn’t notice the door that she was passing through. The group walked into a vast hangar area with aisles and aisles of production lines and researchers, with stocks of weapons placed neatly and regimented on the far end of the hangar. Realising her mistake, the guide began to stumble and tried to divert the attention of the group, but it was too late, the group had pushed past her and were walking straight into the room like a swarm of wasps, encompassing the entire room as they excitedly took incriminating notes, acting as if Christmas had come early. The security guards tried to intervene, but the League Peacekeeper swung into action, raising his rifle and standing his ground, arguing heatedly with the head of the security detail. Both sides were at an impasse as the guards were not allowed to intervene with violence and the Peacekeeper had declared that if any stepped further, they would be considered as enemies to the League.

Harry almost ran over to the various weapons and began his tests, using his small toolbox and any tools in the hangar to carefully take apart various shells and pieces of technology. Noticing some shells further away from him that interested him, he moved towards them which triggered frightened shouts to accumulate behind him. Rushed slams of feet moved towards him as he began looking into the stash which to him were obviously artillery shells. He knew what he was looking for and he found it. He knew Sarin anywhere, he supposed it was lucky that he had studied Chemical Weaponry as a University PhD which gave him a chance to go into the United Noronnican Forces’ R&D Department. Hearing the stomps of boots on the floor, he swiftly finished his notes and took several pictures of Sarin examples, also quickly pocketing a sample.

Two soldiers in full gear approached Harry and began speaking harshly, “This area is restricted, move away civilian. You will turn yourself over for immediate inspection.”

Harry glared at the two soldiers, unfettered by their angry motions, instead calmly retorting, “I am a representative of the League of the Western Isles, if you so much as presume to touch me you and your superiors shall have all Hell to pay.” He noticed that a small crowd was forming including the members of the group who had come to their own damning conclusions, several of them filming the incident. It appeared that the security detail managed to break through as the Peacekeeper was beside the group while the guards were attempting to try and snatch evidence away from the investigators.

The two soldiers brought their rifles to eye level, aiming at Harry’s head. The speaker of last time spoke again, but in a much slower and deliberate voice, “You went directly against your Government Guide and infringed on national property. This can be made to look bad very easily,” he pulled out a knife and poised it near his stomach, “for example, you could have stabbed me as you tried to get away.”

Harry’s confident glare faltered as he saw the immediate threat. Silence befell the room as the two sides came to a stand-still. Several guards unholstered their own weapons and the Peacekeeper pulled out his own while the group and the guide kept turning to watch the aggressors.

Finally, a sharp bark cut through the air and a high-ranking officer ran up to the mass of people, “Get out my way. Get out my fucking way!” He approached the two soldiers and glared, his own apprehension evident,
“Stand down. They are being sent back to their hotel in the city to await further instruction.”

---

Harry almost sprinted into his room once he was allowed. He let out an enormous breath and slid down the door, the adrenaline rush finally coming to an end as he wildly looked around his room. Slamming his watching on the table, he ran around the room obsessively, pulling apart anything that could conceivably be bugged. Turning over tables, the bed, and anything else suspicious, he finally sat back down on his messy bed with only a speaker and a small camera in his hand.

Pulling out his notes and his laptop, he began to write, and soon Harry forgot the situation he was in, forgot his imminent arrest, forgot that he had been held at gun-point, he just wrote.

After an hour of intensive writing and gathering information from his other colleagues who emailed him through the group’s secure network, Harry compiled a report that held some of the most damning evidence he had ever come across. His piece was only a small part of the wider group-work that had been connected and it turned out there was more than just Sarin in the facility.

Taking his phone out, he sent and attached an image of the Sarin sample onto his report and stretched out. His work was done and he had a few minutes before he presumed all communications would be shut off as he would be waiting behind bars. He was glad that the group was using a League satellite as he suspected the hotel wifi was off, annoying the few residents that weren’t a League representative. Slowly dragging the cursor and tapping his laptop’s trackpad, the email was sent and it was now up to the League.

---

It had been several hours since the League representatives had been locked up alongside the Peacekeeper. They were now dressed in smart second-hand suits as they sat before a televised court. It was going to be a show trial, and a triumphant one at that. Even the Prime Minister of Charbagnia had attended, although he was out of shot. The President did not attend, but Harry knew that having the Prime Minister meant the whole country was watching, and he knew his own wife would be looking at the news several hours from now, watching the event unfold.

The entirety of court stood as the Judge and his detail sat at the dais, their eyes ever present on the group before them. It was the first time that Harry was seeing them and they looked very strict and overzealous, their sharply-pressed clothes and glares representing their severity, so it took a while before one might come to the conclusion that they were in fact scripted.

The Judge began to speak, “We have been in court for several hours now and after the Jury’s decision,” the camera panned to the paid-to-attend jury, “I must pass down the sentence.”

Harry was unsurprised, there was no need for a song and dance, and they could use the excuse that in the Constitution, no trial is to be televised, so this was a special occasion to see. Meanwhile the audience would assume that the court proceedings had already finished when the cameras came on.

The Judge continued, “You unlawfully and knowingly planted false bugging equipment into your hotel rooms as to incriminate the Charbagnian Government. You unlawfully and knowingly stole restricted equipment and documentation. You unlawfully and knowingly assaulted a member of your guard detail,” the camera turned to a man who harry recognised as one of the soldiers that threatened him, the man’s face was bruised entirely and his lip was split severely. When the camera panned back around to the group, Harry saw the soldier’s dejected look form into a grin as he glared at Harry.

“You unlawfully and knowingly published false information about; the military programs of the Charbagnian military, the existence of Sarin victims taking refuge within the city of Harelbeke, and the use of chemical weaponry on Charbagnian citizens. Finally, you conducted espionage operations alongside the Noronnican and Athara Magarati agents to leak false pictures of military cargo.” At that, the two other prisoners stood and both looked ill and barely alive as their prison clothes covered their tortured bodies.

“I sentence you-” Harry tuned out. He knew that they were going to lie, but not to this extent. Despite the ridiculousness of the crimes, they were credible enough to allow the Charbagnian Government some leeway in later negotiations.

Harry just hoped the group would be safe.

[The Socialist Republics of Combrekniza]

The Presidential Building of Combrekniza, Special Capital District of Combrekniza, Vastovgrad
It was Early in the Morning when the news Came, as the TV Stations went wild, the Combreknizan streets were up in flames as protestors marched across the streets demanding the Government to act against Charbianga, The Metropolitian Police would fail on Containing the Protests, and as this happened a State of National Emergency Declared, and a Public Debate was held as all news Stations in Combrekniza would see the Councils Decision, Millions of Combreknizans tune in to their televisions looking closely and fearful of the Result, after Hours of Talks the Council has Declared.

"This Thursday, Mister Prime Minister" As the Head of the Council speaks to the Prime Minister

"The Supreme Council of the Proletariat has Declared, that the illegal weapons Program of Charbianga is considered to be Unjustifiable,and Illegal, so under the passing on the Thursday November 16th, on the year of 2017 of executive order SLC8T721 Combrekniza will Openly Condemn the actions of Charbianga and it shall impose Sanctions on all fronts against Charbianga and Banning Charbianga from Passing the Canal, We the Combreknizan Council.

To Clarify our current sanctions we have targeted any Charbiangan Economic trade passing through Combrekniza to restrict it's economy from funding it's War-like Regime, and the ban of Charbiangan Military Assets from entering Combreknizan Waters and the Canal."
As the Head of the council ends his declaration the Prime Minister would head to the speaker position saying:

"In advance to these Sanctions, we have now increased our Readiness for war to Level 3, The highest in 15 Years, this should be a clear sign to all citizens that every Citizen in Combrekniza is to be Prepared for war and possible threats from Charbianga, as i end my declaration i would like to give the honour to Present to you, Head of the Armed Forces of our Nation,Grand Marshal Ivankov Kolya."
As he ends his declaration he would point to the Head of the Armed Forces Ivankov Kolya, slowly but gradually heading to the Speaker position.

"Thank you Prime minister, As you all know Citizens,Council Members,Prime Minister,and People tuning into this Broadcast, I have came here to announce that the Combreknizan Army will be ready for All threats that will come against this Great Nation, as we have defended it from the years of Antiquity, to the Second Civil war, we will defend our Nation, Whatever the cost may be, We Shall defend our allies as well against all threats, and We shall fight them on all Fronts, wether it be a Direct or Indirect Attack, i will ensure you all that the Army will be Ready for everything that it shall come across."
As he finishes his speech the Broadcast ends with the Meeting also Ending.

After the Public Meeting the Combreknizan Armed forces began Mobolisation and the Navy was dispatched to defend it's Western Waters, The Combreknizan Air force was Scrambled to look for Possible threats, and Martial Law has been Declared on the area's of the Canal, as People would celebrate on the Decision made by the Council in the Streets sparking a fire of Nationalism and Love for the Country and it's Army.

---

Shores of Charbianga,Late at Night.

Map of the Landing Area(Crude hand made,Used by Alpha Unit)

"Johannson?,AGENT Johannson!"
Special Agent Yuri Kustovnia of the Combreknizan Ministry of Security would scream as he prepares for a airdrop to Charbianga's remote area's

"Yeah yeah i'm awake....."
Johannson would Say.

"Good,That means you will be prepared for the Paradrop,Get up and hook yourself up when i give you the signal"
As he says that he would get up Giving the signal of the rest of the Agents to arise,Johannson would also arise hooking themselves up as the AN-2 Colt flies nearer to their AO, as they approach he would make a final transmission confirming the Status of Alpha Squad,Bravo Squad,Charlie Squad,and Echo Squad of the Alpha Group.

As he would make his Final checks the Agents would begin checking their equipment and brandishing their issued PM Makarov's with some Arming Kalashnikovs., The Agents are to be paradropped or Sent by sea to infiltrate Charbianga for Reconissance purposes,all agents are trained, and given handbooks of the French and German Language, The Combreknizan Agents would paradrop down overnight, Gathering in the mountains by next week then they will split into group again while maintaining communication with each other and then set camp in local villages or towns and head to main cities every one week to share their information,Overtime they will build up a Spy Cell and secure Landing Zone's of supplies and other Agents,This would be Operation Mount Druggosvili, All agents are also given suicide pills in the case of capture and they are instructed to destroy any captured equipment with any way necessary.

[Atnaia]

The flashbulbs snapped as the two men shook hands. The pair were so utterly mismatched as to be almost humourous. Presdent Weinreb was old and held himself as dignified, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit with a robin's egg blue tie. Chris Taubadel, on the other hand, was young and looked even younger. He wore a tailored blazer and button-up shirt, but no tie, and his pants were a pair of extraordianrally expensive jeans. The President looked presidential. Taubadel looked like he was about to present a new video game on stage at some convention. As they shook hands and the press took their photos, Josa could read their expressions easily. Weinreb hid his disdain well enough that the cameras wouldn't see it, but the cocky grin of Taubadel could be picked up by anyone.

Asshole, Josa thought. She had never liked Taubadel. Weinreb might pretend to be kinder than he was, but Taubadel pretended to be more human than he was. Behind the cocky grins and youthful aesthetic, the ma was empty of anything other than cold calculation. He was a robot, pretending to be human, and Josa frequently felt the cold chills of the uncanny valley when she looked at him. Sometimes, she wondered if he was a sociopath.

Despite that, or maybe because of it, he was excellent at what he did. Doublespeak came as easily to him as breathing. She had never known anyone who could be so artfully capable of saying something, believing the opposite, and meaning something else entirely.

When the press where done with their shoot, the pair of men walked across the tarmac of the runway where the bright yellow and black airplane hunkered down like a bumblebee on a flower. Or a wasp. A guard opened the back of a limousine, and the two men and Josa climbed into the back. The guard shut the door, and the cavalcade pulled away from the airport, flashbulbs still firing.

Taubadel looked out through the tinnted glass, a half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Good turnout," he said.

Weinreb nodded. "Indeed," he said. "Now that the public pleasantries are out of the way..."

Taubadel turned to the President and waved a hand vaguely. "You want to hear what my advice for all this is. Just a moment."

The young man shifted in his seat and smiled at Josa. "Nice to see you again, Ambassador Katch. How's your brother?"

Taubadel had the uncanny capacity to remember strangely specific details of people's personal lives after only an offhand mention of the matter. Josa thought that she had perhaps mentioned her brother once around the man, months before. She doubted the man knew or cared about a single detail of Josa's professional history, but he could somehow recall the most important detail of her life from a single recalled comment. It was like he knew exactly what was the easiest way to tug her strings. It was part of what made him offputting.

"He's fine," Josa said.

Taubadel nodded. "That's good. I was happy to hear that he was starting to feel better."

Josa could barely stop herself from showing the shock on her face. Was Taubadel keeping tabs on her family? What was she thinking, of course he was. His role as propagandist was only a limited fraction of his role in Wessich's chess game. The other part was keeping an eye on people in important positions and ensuring their loyalty to the Hegemony. Or, as he might say, to keep the voices on message.

"You have a brother, Miss Katch?" the president asked.

"Yes," Josa had to force herself not to speak through gritted teeth. "Representative Taubadel, I appreciate your sentiment, but this doesn't seem like an appropriate venue for personal discussion."

"Of course," he grinned again and leaned back, crossing his legs. He shifted slightly. "So, Mr. President, let's lay this out, shall we? Your most pertinent PR disaster right now are those leaked photos. Everything else is smoke and mirrors. People can ignore Sarin attacks and harsh police action. They won't ignore nuclear weapons. If there's one message you have to control, its that. Do you know the three D's of publicity, Mr. President?"

Weinreb raised an eyebrow. "The three D's?"

Taubadel held up 3 fingers. "Deny, distract, delete," he ticked his fingers down one at a time. "These are the possible responses to unwanted information being released. You've been fairly consistent in your denials, but you know what happens when you doth protest too much. What you need is a distraction. You need to spin the attention somewhere else. There's several paths to this, but one is better than the others. Let's be honest, we don't want the distraction to be some other PR nightmare. So what we need to do is distract in such a manner as to earn you international sympathy."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Weinreb asked.

Taubadel frowned for a moment, his mind calculating out possibilities. "Well," he said, "we could suggest the leak was a false flag operation by someone the international community hates even more, but that's a tad pedestrian. What we don't want to do is to undermine your credibility."

"Those photos were likely taken by League investigators," Weinreb said.

"So undermine their credibility," Taubadel said. "Where are they now?"

Weinreb was quiet.

"Jesus Christ, really?" Taubadel said. "This is worse than I thought...okay, screw foreign perceptions, lost cause. You need to curry favour."

The car pulled up at the Presidential Offices. "How so?" Josa asked.

"We need to determine the best options for possible nations we could pull out of this," Taubadel said as the door was opened. "We don't need allies. We just need more neutral parties. And we need to start recruiting. Fast. This is all going to hit the fan sooner rather than later."

[Dormill and Stiura]

The scene at Tafort Airport is common for the area, a bunch of suits buzzing around and going about their business with a sprinkling of tourists who are coming and going during this time of uncertainty. One of these suits, however, had a wildly different reason for showing up out here.

Bevis Newton, otherwise known as Joker 1-3, had arrived to the airport recently on a new assignment from BRS/BSI to begin generating instability in the nation in preparation for a Dormill-Stiuraian intervention. Things were already looking bleak with news of the arrest of several League representatives a few days prior and the news of the attack in nearby Harelbeke about a month ago now. He's read the file on the Charbagnian Federation and knew the best way of breaking down the nation would be to incite a French revolt against the majority German government. Seems simple enough, some nationalism will be enough to rile up the French here and give us the means to enter the Federation. he thinks to himself as he encounters a chauffeur who waves him down.

"Sir, your car is waiting for you at the exit of the terminal. I am your driver, let me take your bags." the aged man said in French to the agent.

After sinking into the seat of the car he was provided, he and his driver began to head out of the airport and began to drive southwards.

"Who sent you?" Newton asked, not anticipating somebody to recover him at the airport.

"Chief Justice Baschet wanted to meet you, sir. She said it was something important that you two needed to talk about."

Thinking to himself for a moment, he managed to formulate a reasonable sounding response "Well that sounds nice. I hope whatever she wants from me won't be too much."

---

Roagny, Secret Hideout

A regular business helicopter touches down in a seemingly empty field not far from a farmhouse. The nearby town of Roagny is of little notice, just a French coastal hamlet nestled between the Southern Sea and the remainder of Charbagnia with little strategic or economic value to speak of. The entire island is a perfect spot to initiate a rebellion from surprisingly, with its isolation from the remainder of the state yet not important enough to have more than a Federal Police Station dedicated to the defense of the entire island. Within the farmhouse is a quickly developing secret base, built by BRS/BSI to station members of Jokers Deck Squadrons 1 and 4 during the duration of their mission here.

The helicopter unloads the last necessary members of this entire operation, including Joker 1-3, Chief Justice Baschet, and several French nationalists that have been stirring up trouble for Federal Police in the north for the past several months. The group waltzes into the farmhouse as if nothing were happening to begin with, an arguably better tactic than being secretive about entering hideouts that the Bureau is trying out here.

To the Bureau, Charbangia is a testing ground for their next planned operations into Merrit Isle and its ongoing succession movement. Though their mission here remains important if Dormill and Stiura is to extend its sphere of influence further into the Southern Sea before the EUSR or the CU grows any further as well.

"Is everything in place?" a masked person asks, their voice distorted for the sake of security.

"Pretty much, all that we need is the right moment and we can light the powder keg in Frébonne, granting you the means to intervene and give us our own state." One of the French nationalists responds.

"Just remember our deal, Mr. Dirix, the new government is to permit basing rights to Dormill and Stiura after securing your victory. After that, we will grant you economic aid to rebuild."

"Of course, sir. You are a generous people."

Revolution is but thought carried into action.
Welcome to Our Revolution.

[Noronica]

Noronnican State Palace, Nolon City

Charlotte sat with her legs neatly crossed on the car seat, her eyes glued to the buildings around her. As she held a vested interest in architecture, she found it a soothing pastime to gaze around at the architecture in whatever host country she happened to be in. As an ambassador, she found that she was usually ferried across the best the country could offer rather than the real aspects of it. It was only natural, no one wants to show themselves at their worst, but she had no qualms about it, quite the opposite in fact. Observing the ‘Old Town’ part of the City of Nolon, Charlotte noted the old stone structures that seemed to sprawl across the streets, blending with the modern signs and phone-addicted populace. Gazing upwards, she spied a grand ageing structure built on a hill next to the car. Driving past, Charlotte caught a glimpse of the ancient history of Noronica. It compared with many of Charbagnia’s old structures although Charbagnia was a hot place, Noronica’s castles were made to withstand the harsh northern winters. In her opinion, it was a dark addition to a content and bustling city, its structure looming over with vengeance of the forgotten past.

Being yanked out of her poetic ministries, Charlotte turned to the driver who had begun to speak. It was rather humorous to her that the top brass had chosen an agent as a driver. The man wore black sunglasses, a black suit, a black earpiece, black shoes, even black hair. The guy was pulled straight from a spy thriller and spoke like it too. His voice was deep and gravelly, a constant frown deep-set on his face.

“You know why you’re here, but I’m going to emphasize it again. We need to make sure we cut away any potential aggressors. If we see even a whisper of mobilisation from anyone, we will blame you personally. Our President is doing everything he can to ensure his peoples’ credibility is restored.” He spoke aggressively, his eyes penetrating as he looked in the rear-view mirror. Charlotte snorted quietly, it just showed how distrustful the administration was when they didn’t trust even their own ambassadors with ‘Top Secret Information’. The entire country knew the Government needed to save face before any more issues arose that got the international community involved. However, the populace was most likely too high on propaganda to criticise the Government.

Charlotte nodded and continued to look out the window while they approached the State Palace estate just outside the city. The gates were opened by two stern guards that glared daggers at Charlotte’s window. It seemed that rumour of the Palace travels fast. Regardless, Charlotte gathered her laptop and phone and slid them into her satchel before her car stopped outside the entrance of the Palace. The agent stepped out of the door, bristling in the wintery wind. He opened Charlotte’s door, never moving his glare from her as if to threaten her. Rolling her eyes, Charlotte continued on her way, giving appreciative looks to the State Palace that gave her a natural feel, as if it had been etched onto a mountain.

Stepping inside, she was met with the artificial heat of the main hall. In front of her, she saw a middle-aged man, his eyes watching her. She noticed that he held himself slightly stooped over and his face betrayed a spaced-look. Walking over to him, she oozed professional and held a confident smirk on her face.

“Good day Mr. Prime Minister. It is an honour to meet you.” She held out her hand and watched as he reciprocated with a weaker handshake, his face looking slightly uncomfortable. She was surprised, from her reports she thought that Mr. McIntosh was an infamous character around Noronnican Government circles, someone not to be crossed with. Could it be that she was experiencing the product of very good propaganda? Was it, in fact, true that Joshua was an unsure leader? Smiling kindly, she spoke again, “These are truly troubling times and I hope to ensure we can come to something pleasing for the both of us. Now I know you are newly in power so I hate to have to be here on such negative terms, to fix this issue swiftly would surely help us.”

Eyes brightening, Joshua spoke in a simpering manner, “Oh Lord, I must admit I was a little intimidated. I’ve been in power for months now, but I am still getting used to everything. Believe me when I see this, the sooner this is resolved, I’ll be very happy.” He turned to the stairs and smiled, inviting the ambassador to walk with him. Even his walk was unsure as he watched his feet. He kept making furtive glances at her as they walked, his nervousness evident. Wow, Charb info had fucked up bad. He would be putty in her hands.

Leading her to his Office, Charlotte noticed the Prime Minister making a quick beeline to his desk. He did not offer her a chair nor a drink, so she coughed just to allow for procedure to kick in.

“Ehm. Ah, sorry. I should offer you a seat. Can- do you want a drink perhaps?” He was putting a posture on to make himself look better, but she knew he was putting it on. He was weak and needed sheltering. She smiled and pulled up a chair, shaking her head at the offer of a drink. Pulling out her laptop, she brushed the lint off of her skirt and smiled.

“Sir, I want to offer you a chance to quickly solve this whole situation so that it is out of your hands. What my Government want to do for your Government is to ensure we calm this situation. Right now, we have Noronnican nationals on our soil and we wish to give them back in goodwill. However, as you might imagine, there is a price.” She spoke softly and calmly, leaning forward ever so slightly to appear caring.

Joshua nodded quickly, “I knew that. What is it that you might need?” Charlotte was taken aback, he was agreeing with her too quickly. Where was the rebuttal, the countering, anything? She was either in Christmas or she was being played. Frowning a little, she spoke again.

“Well, we want to make a pact. Call it what you will, but we’d rather this one be confidential. I understand that the Arvanan State was unwilling to deal with you, but this time you’ll find friends in my Government. You see, we will give you back all of our Noronnican nationals and cease counter-espionage operations targeted on Noronica if you are willing to sign a ‘Pact of Neutrality’. All we want is for your Government not to intervene in anything we do. There is nothing to worry about, we will not be making any offensive moves, but with international tension around us, we wish not to escalate things further and seek peace. You understand sir.” She gave him a look which portrayed one looking for understanding, she was reciprocated with a look of intense turmoil. He looked to be actually taking things into consideration, so she silently placed the document on Joshua's desk, watching as he took his Prime Minister's pen on the desk.

Joshua nodded and read the very short document. Charlotte knew it was hastily written, but there wasn't really very much reason to include any 'tricks' in the document. The President was desperate to get most of the international community to remain neutral in this, especially those with nationals currently being held in Charbagnia. Noticing that the document had been signed, she quickly put the document back in her satchel and rose to shake Joshua's hand. Her grin was genuine now, and it seemed that Joshua looked brighter, an odd look in his eye as he shook her hand firmer than last time. Thinking it the 'post-signing' high every leader seemed to have, Charlotte made her way out of the office after making her goodbyes, practically racing back to the car to impart the good news.

---

Joshua watched Charlotte leave and waited until he heard a door close in the corridor outside before beginning to chuckle. His chuckle soon grew into full-blown hysterical laughter, his eyes streaming with tears. He barely heard his Chiefs of Staff enter the room as he bent double, his throat sore with laughter. He stopped and looked back up, his eyes wide and a grin taking hold on his face. The Chiefs of Staff had seen gruesome things in their time, but never in their life had they seen such a horrific sight. Joshua's face was feral.

One of them spoke up, "Sir. I wonder if you were sensible in signing the document. Are we to believe that we should de-mobilise?" Joshua's eyes snapped over to him, the smile still on his face.

"What? Why? We have accomplished a great deal, and I intend for us to accomplish a lot more. Continue mobilisation, the situation will soon deteriorate as more nations join in the fray. Once this is over I will toast a glass as we place the Noronnican flag on the Charbagnian soil. For it shall be our soil. Even if we are to share the tatters of the broken country, we shall have our land back." Joshua's smile was softer, but his voice was still unnerving. He pulled out a map which the Chiefs of Staff recognised immediately, it was the map of the Noronnican Empire. Joshua pointed to the red territory that divided Charnagnia all those years ago.

The Chiefs of Staff left the room, leaving Joshua who called in his secretary. Speaking quickly, Joshua spoke with meaningful intent, "Ensure that word reaches Rodger in the League, he shall make the next item on the itinerary the League investigators locked-up in Charbagnia or he shall be removed."

[Verona Beach]

---

Government House, Verona Beach

Roland Markwardt reclined in the McNair Sitting Room, throwing his blue suit jacket unceremoniously onto the bust of the room's namesake Chief Minister. The jacket was a fine handcrafted masterpiece from Anderson & Sheppard, given as a gift upon Markwardt's election. The bust was of solid copper and nearly priceless- Neither object deserved this lack of care, but he didn't have the energy to give any care. The cameras were gone, the foreign guests had retired to their suites, and he was wiped. Negotiations with Queen Patovi of Xrevaro had dragged on for several days, wearing both world leaders to the bone. Being the commander-in-chief during a war didn't help either. Roland closed the ancient oak door to the room, grabbed the remote out of the drawer in the Edwardian end table, and collapsed into the Victorian couch. He was glad nobody important could see him like this, draped from end to end on the couch like a teenaged stoner on his mom's sofa and his tie sitting on his shoulder like a limp, dead parrot. He chuckled. Maybe this'd make a funny anecdote in a memoir.

That attitude was wiped away as he flipped through the channels on the flat-screen mounted on the wall. First, he passed a biopic on Eric Clapton; then, a "true crime" series on drug smuggling. Markwardt watched it for a few minutes before switching it off. The information within the piece was very inaccurate, but that was a fact only he and other officials in the Police Department knew. He had a laugh before switching once again, this time to the cable news. There, he caught the tail end of a report on the League inspectors caught in legal trouble in Charbagnia. He watched, intrigued, before the piece ended and moved on to, hilariously, the drug war again. It was at this moment that Fate, or a handy coincidence, had brought him more news on the show trial in the troubled Federation of Charbagnia.

An aide thrust the door open, startling Roland to a stand, desperately trying to make himself look less disheveled. "Mr. Chief Minister, sir!", the young staffer said, startled. "I have important news from Noronnican intelligence!" Noronica... Those people barely had a democracy yet we were in two military alliances with them. At least they did most of the leg work when it came to gathering intelligence. "Let's see it," the leader of the Free City said as if he wasn't, quite literally, caught sleeping on the job. The staffer promptly handed over the file as the Chief Minister lowered the TV volume, sinking into the couch to read the dossier.

He thumbed through it and re-thumbed it for two hours. He muttered the key highlighted phrases and words that would be blacked out to any other viewer. "Trumped-up charges... WMD evidence found... Enhanced interrogation... Veronite citizens?!" Markwardt realized he had a PR crisis on hand if he didn't handle this exactly carefully, which meant that this time he'd (reluctantly) have a proper cabinet meeting before calling a press conference. He snapped his fine suit jacket off the bust and dashed to the meeting room.

[Athara Magarat]

Villeurmont

Two men and a women off-loaded from a red Uttar. They checked the neighborhood with alerted nature and their eyes seemed to scan each and every nook but the area was eerily devoid of the living except for a few men playing poker under the shade of a willow. One could, even from a distant, tell that the three were foreigners due to the way they dressed, the way they talked to one another, their body language and mostly since their faces were not of the typical Charbagnian with German or French ancestry.

The taller man fished into his pocket and produced some paper. The other two took some quick peek at the paper and the man put it back into his pocket again. The men at the game of poker heard some weird ramblings of the foreigners and a few minutes later saw them head to the door of Lémery's.

"Looks like Angie is having some foreign guests." Thibault Serre said to his poker mates as he stole a quick glance at his cards.

"I am sure he is one of them." Timothy Alarie whispered.

"A what?" Christopher Mace asked.

Serre and Alaire both glared angrily at Mace as did other players. "Keep your voice down," another man spoke up. "Everyone knows Villeurmont is the headquarters of the Party and Comrade Lémery here is probably one of the big-shots in their ranks. It's obvious that foreign delegates from nations who want Weinreb out were those folks just now. If the Party finds that we are discussing stuff like this and specially if loud-mouths like you, Mace, go around saying things, then the Party may suspect that you are with Weinreb and - " The man touched Mace's temples with his hand made like a gun - "bang."

"But I want to be in the Party and kill Weinreb's thugs." Mace said as he looked at his friends one by one. The others chuckled. "As if they did make an idiot like you join the Party."

"Three of kind!" Mace said as he showed his cards. "Don't forget the game, good friends." The other men cursed him for Mace had been peeking at the cards of others while they talked and the game continued. Mace laughed as he received the cards for the next round and also saw the curtains being drawn in Lémery's.

"Heavens, these men are noisy," the stout foreigner pulling the curtains said in Atish.

"But they are good workers and make this quiet neighborhood lively as you may have noticed. Soon enough, they will be joining the Party as fighters as we expand." The man with thick-rimmed glasses named Lémery said in Atish as well as he conversed with his foreign guests. In particular, his conversation was with the woman. "More tea, Hangma?"

"This will be enough, Comrade Lémery. For now." Hyolmo Hangma, a member of Athara Magarat's Divan-i-Magarati, thanked the host.

"The Party has done great things on its own feet." Lémery said in a little prideful tone. "It may be only Villeurmont for now, but soon we will have roots and branches spreading over the entirety of Charbagnia. Every day, more and more nations see that our cause is real and justified and that Weinreb is just another tyrant. Another Sartin who needs to removed."

Hyolmo Hangma sipped her tea and wondered if Lémery had said Sartin because the former Arvanan dictator had insulted the then head of Athara Magarati state and government, Paija Hang. Regardless she did not cut in and listened more for the Comrade to give details and information on recent happenings.

"Sorry to cut in, Comrade, but our time has to be short. I hope you understand." Hyolmo Hangma said while Lémery was talking about international condemnation of Weinreb and need of supplies. He nodded to indicate that he knew she was a busy person. She then handed him a number from the pocket of her unique traditional dress. Lémery seemed curious that even a dress like that had pockets. "That's not mine but I think you will need it."

Lémery gazed at the words Kravi Vukovi with a wolf's head and he was sure that he had heard of them somewhere.

"They are a Vucarian paramilitary group of communist youths trained to fight wars like this one. While we are the men outside can be good members of the Party, the people in your town need something else for a revolution to succeed. They need training. And the Kravi Vukovi will be there for that. The supplies will even come with - "

"And if they are found, then they are to take all the blame with no trace of Athara Magarati involvement." Lémery was a smart man and he knew what was happening.

"Yes, why do I, Hyolmo Hangma, need to hide the truth from Comrade Lémery and the Party?" The Hangma smiled as she stood up. "The Divan is still not fully convinced the revolution will succeed. Implement the Kravi Vukovi training, embrace the revolutionary path and follow Ketseluv ideals to produce the desired results then I am sure, not only Athara Magarat or a few other nations - but many in the Isles will see you in a new light. As heroes, who took down Weinreb, a tyrant like you say."

The two Athara Magarati men raised their fists to salute Comrade Lémery who did the same. Hyolmo Hangma on the other hand performed traditional Athara Magarati greeting before shaking hands with the communist leader. Like before, the neighborhood was silent once again as the red Uttar was seen leaving for the highway.

[Noronica]

Helmwerder, Charbagnian Federation

Peter Dietrich felt the warm breeze graze his face as he made his way towards central square. Emerging from a side street he could hear loudspeakers in front of a mass gathering in front of him. He immersed himself in the crowd, interested in what was going on and wanting to see the cause of the commotion. As he got further in, he could easily make out who was speaking, it was the Charb President. Weinreb himself was holding a rally. Peter could see that the man didn't have many supporters in the crowd, as a vast quantity of the people there were frowning deeply or holding small rebel flags clenched in their white-knuckled hands. Even as a mere observer, Peter could feel the anger in the people as they heard the aged ramblings of the President.

Not a man that really involved himself in politics Peter was never that opinionated on the Charb Government, only pissed off when prices of goods shot up. However, he had to hand it to Weinreb, the man could talk. Like the leaders of old, the man had an aura about him, the booming declarations and the loud condemnations, all with the military parades throughout the speech. Peter, now fully within the crowd and able to see the two large screens next to a central stage, could see that Weinreb was wearing his military uniform and was truly belting it out, his face red and his eyes wide. He was an old man's body with a macho-man soul, his speech blaring out of the speakers.

Peter felt a vibration and fumbled around in his jacket, pulling out his phone to see who was texting him. He did not pay much attention, but could make out some of the speech, "... What has happened over these past months is a chance to undermine our nation's sovereignty. Charbagnia has, and remains to be, the only nation in the Western Isles that may profess to be neutral. Throughout history, we have been the nation that watches others burn, choosing instead to be peaceful and tend to our crops rather than the sword. What surrounds us are nations that seek to undermine us. The League insists on fighting against us when we have done no wrong. What we do is right, what we are is righteous."

Peter turned to see that several members of the audience were shouting out at the President. They weren't loud enough for him to hear, but the shouting appeared to be contagious as others soon joined in. Peter noticed with alarm that whole chunks of the gathering were putting on yellow berets which were the signature berets of the LPLG party. Several of those members were lighting up bottles which Peter knew to be Molotov Cocktails.

Stumbling back, Peter was pushed aside by an armed undercover operative who was grasping hold of his pistol behind his jacket. The man was promptly tackled to the ground and that is when pandemonium set in. Other operatives were pushed to the ground and were beaten badly by protestors while the cocktails were thrown at random, some hitting police, some hitting others in the crowd. Fire blazed harshly on the ground and Peter could feel the heat of the fires around him and the stampede of the people on the ground. Gazing up at the podium, Peter could see that Weinreb was fighting his bodyguards to stay on the microphone, although this time he had snapped.

"These are our enemies people! This scum would have you believe in lies. We must fight to stop them from taking our credibility, take up arms my soldiers of Charbagnia!" The man ground out his statement with mad anger, his eyes red and spit flying from his mouth. Peter watched as cameras flashed amongst the fighting. Soon the President would be all over the internet alongside the madness as he screams bloody murder.

Gunshots rang out in the square as the police fought to retain control of the square, their blasts hitting several members of the crowd. This was joined by blackshirt-nationalists who were supporting the President and had brought their own weapons of their own, blades, machetes and guns. Peter ran to take cover behind mounds of people as others ran around in blood-filled rampages, their own side forgotten about as fighting took place without discrimination.

Peter began to hyperventilate and hug his legs as the horror took place around him. The sheer amount of smoke had made the sky appear red and grey, giving Peter visions of hell on earth as everyone clashed together, the sweat and blood making Peter retch.

To his horror, Peter heard the squeaks and chugging of Charb tanks that were rolling onto the ground. He could just make out through the smoke the great metal beasts as they crushed barriers in their way. They were meant to be there purely to incite fear, but several shells were fired, obliterating stands and groups of protestors and nationalists alike. The fighting was soon over, but only through the sudden military take-over suppressing everything in its path. The President had obviously left, so the stand and podium were now being used as a final stand for the protestors who had built a hasty barricade. Several troops had lined up in front of the barricade and were firing at it to no avail. Peter could spy a crate being quickly ran over to the troops. It was opened and a long object was brought out of it.

Two soldiers took up the object and laid it on their shoulders and soon Peter knew what it was. He had no time to mull it over as the object fired and the barricade was ripped apart. Soldiers ran over to the barricade and began pulling bodies out. It was over. The army was there in full force and there weren't that many arrests to be made, instead the body bags came out in the hundreds.

Peter felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and he turned to be met by the butt of a gun.

[Covonant]

Foreign Affairs Ministry
The Christmas holiday was over and even though the Consul was in recess, the Foreign Minister Lydia Abbasca was 'advised' by Prime Minister Gais to monitor Charbagnia. Covonant had already invested millions in defense and investment in the Southern Seas and saw the rise of a new threat counterproductive to the country's role in the sub region. With news of Charbagnia developing nuclear weapons Crassus Gais was trying for the first time in his role as Prime Minister to approach Charbagnia diplomatically. Already Covonant had been quiet on the release of news stating Charbagnia nuclear weapons programme and Prime minister Gais was deliberate in overlooking the country when he embarked on his eastern visit. The administration however thought it necessary to turn attention to the rising threat which Gais is already thinking of containing.

Foreign Minister Abbasca was itching to sanction the country but fell surprised when she was advised by her boss not to do so. Calling a meeting of the Diplomatic Council which saw the presence of the Defense Minister she was seeking a motive to have Covonant act.

"The Prime Minister and the administration is concerned with a nuclear Charbagnia. The league move slow in its condemnation even though investigation is pointing in the direction of a nuclear state. Gentlemen, Covonant has invested too much into the east to allow a threat to rise that would affect our interest and we most certainly would not want that state rubbing shoulders with the EUSR." Expressed Lydia

"What do you propose we do. This matter does seem a diplomatic crisis which your portfolio deals with" Expressed defense Minister Ignacio

"Thank you Minister. I assure you gentlemen that the Foreign Ministry is handling the situation and the Prime Minister is regularly briefed. But I must also inform you, that our time of sitting on the sides ends today. Covonant will be embarking on a new foreign policy where we will implement the good neighbour policy to the east. We cannot afford the EUSR to gain any influence over Charbagnia. Crassus wants the Covonantian Corps to be sent to the country on goodwill initiative. Depending on future events will determine our next step. One such step is my visit to the country. Sometimes in the new year to see how best Covonantian influence can steer the country to stay on our side." Informed the Minister

"So what elements of defense will be used Minister. Let's not rule out that they may stab us in the back if they find out our motive" Expressed General Machelli Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces

"I don't think they would want to try that scenario General. And if so I think I will be out of line to speak on matters that does not fall under my portfolio " the Minister responded as she glanced over to the Defense Minister Ignacio.

[Noronica]

Nolon City, Noronica

"I thought we had an agreement," a voice growled through the phone, "Noronica would be on neutral terms with the Charbagnian Government. Now we see on live League feeds and through our press that the Noronnican delegate is calling the League investigators hostages! I mean, this is a total and utter disregard for international agreements, I'll have you know-" The voice was interrupted as Joshua cut in, his voice calm and measured with a hint of annoyance.

"Mr. Prime Minister, it is of my interest to not go around becoming your ally. What we agreed was that there would be no military action nor condemnation of your country." Joshua expressed this, his finger rubbing away at the frosted windows of his office, "Our relations will remain cool, however, if this situation with the League investigators does not go away swiftly. All that is needed to be done is for all members of the team to be transferred to the ICJ and all matters will be out of our hands! Think of that Mr. Prime Minister, this would be solved in a matter of seconds."

"However, Mr. Prime Minister, they were the ones to conduct illegal operations on our soil. We, as a fair nation, treat all those that break the law equally under fair justice as we work under the rule of law, which applies to the members of the said team who committed grave crimes." The voice of the Charb Prime Minister was cold but stressed, his barb obvious.

"Which, as you well know, is the same situation for the International Court of Justice, an international body that is unbiased and fair towards justice. Face it Mr. Prime Minister, these men and women are League investigators given diplomatic immunity, if I am to believe that other international diplomatic workers are in danger in your nation then I shall be severely concerned. I do not see the issue in demanding this team back so that we may try them ourselves, it is not that we do not doubt your ability to conduct legal affairs, it is the fact that you knowingly broke international law." Joshua's voice maintained his calm, but a smile was appearing on his face. He needed this to be sloppy and damning for the Charbs, lest they get away without more eyes on them. They were not about to get out of his grasp.

"Say we did hand them over. Say for one moment that the President and I might consider this, our nation would not get anything in return? Anything? As your representative said, and I quote, 'unless we are able to secure the team's return to the ICJ without any form of compensation or boon to the Charbagnian Government which is entirely and totally undeserved.' This is an obvious slight on our nation and does not allow for us to recover from such crimes and allegations being imposed on us. A negotiation goes two ways Mr. Prime Minister, it must allow for both sides to get at least something out of this." The Prime Minister was now angry, it was a contentious issue Joshua could see.

"Mr. Prime Minister, I am afraid that I cannot offer you anything as I am not the League. What I can tell you is that if you become annoyed out of our actions it may mean that our little agreement cannot be continued. We only wish to see the safe return of the international team and that is all." Joshua put down the phone and lightly pushed on his itchy eyes with his fingers, rubbing them. Reopening the webpage from his computer, he continued to watch the live-feed from the League.

[Atnaia]

The car bounced along quickly, faster than it should have moved. Josa stared across the cab in the back of the town car at Taubadel, fury in her eyes. His head was turned to look out the window at chaotic nighttime streets, but the reflection of his eyes in the dark glass met hers.

"You've been meaning to ask, and we're not going to get a better time than now," he said. "Just ask. Before I feel like I need to monologue."

Josa gripped the edge of her seat for a moment, white-knuckled. For days, Taubadel had undermined her work in Charbagnia. Then, in one fell swoop, it had all been destroyed. That damned rally had acted like the first domino being knocked over. Her careful political maneuvering with Weinreb had been destroyed and replaced by direct action from the Hegemon's Office. She had turned into a glorified secretary, and was about to be mostly confined to the Atnaian Embassy. It wasn't safe in the streets anymore, not with the rebels growing so brazen.

"Did you do it?" she asked.

Taubadel's reflected eyebrow raised a micrometer. "Do what?"

"Organize that damn rally?"

Taubadel turned in his seat and leveled cold blue eyes on her. A grin that didn't touch his eyes barely touched his lips, a ghost of an expression. "For which side?"

Josa opened her mouth to retort, then closed it. Taubadel maintained her gaze, contemplating her expression with his own not shifting. He ran a quick hand through his hair, slicking it over slightly. She couldn't maintain her own stare and turned away, angry. He chuckled infuriatingly.

"I helped him put a few remarks together," Taubadel said. "He went...markedly off book, though. Especially at the end there."

Josa clenched her teeth. "You knew what the rebel situation was like. Are you crazy or an idiot?"

Taubadel cracked the knuckle of his index finger with his thumb, a slight pop echoing in the back of the car. "Both, I'd say. But sometimes reckless stupidity is useful, you know."

Josa looked back at him. He smiled in a way that she was sure was meant to evoke cavalier roguishness, but carried that uncanny valley feeling that so discomforted her. He looked vaguely like someone had used photo imaging software to put a different mouth on his face to change the expression. It didn't quite wrinkle his eyes. She frowned back, and the smile slipped slightly. He looked like a kicked puppy for a split second, then sighed and perked up to a mechanical lack of expression.

"You have a very good glare, you know," he said. "It's hard to do fiery with your complexion, it generally goes icy instead, but you pull it off. You get a bit of a blush to the cheeks that makes it work."

She wondered for the briefest moment if it was a come on, but his face was so monotone that she doubted it. It seemed more like a professional appraisal of a horse breeder looking at a creature ready for sale.

"Look," he said. "The situation with the investigators is dominating the League discussions, and by extension the papers. I felt like the rally would be useful no matter how it spun out. Three D's, remember. Deny, distract, delete. An attempted assassination and rebel action...well, that's a mighty good distraction."

"And if Weinreb had died?"

"He wouldn't have and didn't," Taubadel said. "I don't look backwards, I look forwards."

Josa glared again. She could feel a strand of hair fall out of her bun and wondered if it was possible to become disheveled from sheer anger.

Taubadel mimed being shot. "You got me. Look, Weinreb knew what he was doing. He took that risk himself. If he had been shot, history would have spun a very different way, but Atnaia would have been there to catch the shattered pieces no matter what. Someone would have risen to replace him, and the assassination would have polarized the country enough for them to need foreign allies with a bit of weight. Atnaia may have bled itself down a bit lately, but we can still throw a diplomatic haymaker when we need it. We were never in any risk of losing out on the hard work you have put in here."

"We are, right now," Josa growled. "I was attempting to build something more tempered, something that would allow us to slip in the forces we need on the ground before this all goes to total hell."

"Josa," Taubadel said, his voice all full of icy pity. "Come on. That chance burned down when Weinreb arsoned his chances with the League. That old man has effectively torched our clout there along with his credibility, and our only response was to double down as a distraction and delay. At this point, everything we do is damage control. You need to readjust faster. We're not playing chess, we're playing Russian roulette with a six-shooter holding five shots. We can only pull out of this by playing a very careful game of odds and probabilities. The Hegemon has been very clear that we have to keep this dumpster fire burning for as long as possible, not fix things. The longer Charbagnia is a disaster, the more the League looks away from Merrit. Do you understand?"

"So all of this was by design?"

"No, I'm not a goddamn psychic," Taubadel laughed. "I can't accurately predict the actions of several million people. Neither can the Hegemon, and he's better than I am. What we can do is play a game of Xanatos speed chess, and adjust our plans as quickly as we can to assure we always win. Right now, we're still winning. So stop being so angry and smile."

She could almost hear the implied you'd be prettier on the tip of his tongue, and the glimmer in his eyes showed he knew that and was deliberately leaving that particular button half-pressed. They pulled into the embassy through the checkpoints in silence.

[Noronica]

Nolon City, Noronica

Malcolm Schmidt strode through the corridors of the State Palace until he found the glass lounge, the smell of exotic plants filling his lungs as he passed through. Outside he heard grunting and the sounds of blades on plants, expecting the Gardener, Malcolm walked to the door and ignored the man kneeling by the outside garden. Scanning the grounds of the Palace, he found that the Prime Minister was not in sight, instead, he could only spy several groundsmen and a few guards. Sighing through his teeth, he prepared to head back to the Palace, his search had gone unresolved and he felt extremely annoyed. There had been burning questions in his mind as the confusion of Charbagnia unfolded, and Noronica's position seemed odd to him even having known about Joshua's movements.

Turning, he jumped seeing Joshua gazing into the sunset covered in compost and carrying some shears. Joshua's eyes levelled with Malcolm's, "I assume you weren't here for the sunset over the city, so out with it. What is it that you need?" Joshua wiped his hands on his garden clothes and stared at Malcolm expectantly, his gaze soon becoming uncomfortable.

"I- well, it concerns our foreign involvement in Charbagnia." Malcolm spoke with caution, hoping that he did not have to be specific and the Prime Minister would understand.

Joshua snorted, "We have a cabinet for a reason Malcolm, I'm sure Rachel would love to explain our relations with... ah-" Joshua paused as if in thought, he was toying with Malcolm, "you want to know about my involvement in Charbagnia." Without a glance for confirmation, Joshua continued, "You must understand," he sat down on the grass, pulling his Chief of Staff down beside him, "Charbagnia is an interesting subject for Noronica as it plays a key role in our political influence in the South. You see, after the loss of our Charb territory, we maintained reasonable relations with the country, despite us being separated. This allowed us to continue our trade and business in the South, hell, we even retained a military base. However, when the country converted to Communism, it was dragged away from us and into the unstable hands of others, losing us our political base in the South. This allowed the country to fall into the likes of an unstable autocracy and WMD research, making it dangerous. What I desire is for the end to the country's warmongering and to the population's suffering."

Malcolm's eyebrows raised, a chuckle emanating from him. His voice was incredulous as he spoke, "You can't be serious Joshua, there must be another side to this and I pertain to be your most trusted advisor. If I could be so bold-" He stopped abruptly when Joshua's hand shot towards his neck, a light squeeze stopped all sound.

"I wasn't finished." Joshua said, his voice devoid of life, "Last week a piece of a proposed paper was leaked from us. I find it hard to believe that some grunt leaked it, so I'd best hope my words aren't being processed as well."

Malcolm began to sweat profusely, his voice shook despite his best efforts to remain calm, "I- thought it best for- public support. The paper- it promoted an extremely positive plan for- new legislation." Joshua brought his hand away and smiled, putting his arm around Malcolm and nodding.

"I understand, you are my most trusted advisor and I trust that these words I will now impart shall not be spoken beyond these grounds?" The question was rhetorical as it served as a threat, emphasised by Joshua fingering the shears he used earlier. Joshua continued while Malcolm recovered, "We are to launch an attack in Charbagnia. It shall not be sudden, instead, it shall be as legal as possible through ensuring the League is mostly on our side. I hope to allow for the creation of a Coalition which will allow for Noronica and her allies to quell the Charbagnian Government once and for all. The war shall then end in the invasion and occupation of Charbagnia, similar to that of Arván. With the cooperation already tested through sending the investigation team, it is wise to assume an Allied Control Council would be set up. Noronica shall then maintain any territory it directly controls as its own, allowing for Noronnican influence in the South to be reignited."

Malcolm's eyes rose sharply, "That sounds imperialistic. How will this be viewed by-"

Joshua cut in, "You know, I've always said one of the worst political disasters that have occurred for Noronica was the loss of the empire." Joshua's voice dropped off, but swiftly continued, "Our allies? They'll want a piece of the pie, simple as that. Yes, they may want to create a puppet, but it shall remain under their control. Anyone who complains would be a hypocrite."

Malcolm took a moment to think, his throat was still sore and he needed to process this information, "Why is Noronica then involved in San Montagna? It hasn't been leading any assaults or the invasion, quite the opposite in fact. Noronica has been supporting our allies and it feels that, well, Covonant has been taking the lead." Malcolm was relieved to see that Joshua smiled, the man's hands nowhere near his throat.

"I suspect the patriotic speech over war with San Montagna was a little disappointing for the patriots among us. It is true that Noronica has not been involved as much thus far, but that is due to the fact that if Noronica does take a place in the aftermath of the war, it is likely that Covonant will remain the most influential there due to its close proximity. Noronica can and will ensure it takes part fully, but it needs to conserve its energy before launching the invasion of Charbagnia. The flotilla we sent to aid Athara Magarat is already making plans to divert its course to Charbagnia once the war is over. Noronica will ensure there is no outside influence on its territory and I will make it certain that the divisions will be made to Noronica's satisfaction." Joshua gave Malcolm a small slap on the back and walked back into the Palace.

Turning back once he reached the doorway, he raised his hand in an imaginary toast, "To Noronica. Oh and before I forget, remember my little reprimand, this remains between you and I correct?" Malcolm saw a flash of a steely gaze before the Prime Minister's sickly smile returned.

---

Helmwerder, Charbagnian Federation

Harry picked at the scab on his lip. It had been annoying him for days as his top lip always felt agitated as it touched the roughness of his bottom lip. Harry knew it was an odd part of his body to fixate on as he had suffered other beatings, but he had grown used to lying his sore back against the wall of his cell after a rough session. He noted that all beatings took place above any areas of the body visible by clothing. In fact, the beatings were so precise that it amused Harry, seeing that his stomach and torso were badly bruised, but his arms, legs and face remained relatively unharmed. However, his leg maintained a long gash which was a gift from the soldier that confronted him in the warehouse.

In a macabre sense, Harry was glad to notice this trend, as it meant the Charbs were prepared to move them at any time, but like any Charb prisoner, torture was always involved. It had been a human rights issue for so many charities for so long that people gradually forgot, uncaring for the speculations on Charb prisons. Now Harry was experiencing it first hand, and he was glad that he was a special prisoner, as he managed to sneak a glance at some of the other prisoners that were housed in other cells.

The investigators had been put in special quarters so that they had little to report on after their incarceration, and by the time their wounds had visually healed, not many would believe them. However, Charb guards were rough and uncaring, so they were sloppy, meaning that Harry managed to see the extent of 'average' punishments were. Their blood-covered prison clothes gave quite a clear indicator.

Staring into the distance, Harry began to wonder where his cellmate had gotten to. He had been put in a cell with one of the representatives and both of them had grown used to try and patch each other up and make each other laugh. However, Harry had grown worried as his cellmate's health had severely deteriorated and Harry noticed they were breathing harshly. His worry was almost quelled when he heard his door open, but it rose sharply when he noticed the guards looked worried themselves. Quickly placing down Harry's cellmate, they rushed off speaking in hurried French, leaving Harry to attend his cellmate.

Harry reluctantly approached his cellmate, frightened at what he would see. Turning the body over, Harry gasped, the beating had been rougher than usual, and his cellmate was barely breathing. Rushing towards the cell door, Harry shouted out harshly, "Give me some fucking water, he's close to death in here!" Harry heard the guard approach the door and look through,
"Quoi?"

Oh shit, Harry thought. They didn't speak English and Harry wasn't going to do well in French, "My ami is," Harry mimed slow breathing and attempted to remember the words for 'death', but was quickly pushed aside as the guard opened the door. Both Harry and the guard stood over Harry's cellmate and both of their expressions became that of panic, the cellmate was no longer breathing.

[Atnaia]

"This is bad."

Taubadel lounged on the sofa in Weinreb's office, his casual position not matching the words he was saying. His arms were tossed up on the back of the seat and his legs were slightly stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His dark, fashionably slim pants pulled up enough to show off the garish orange and purple socks he wore. He wore a bow tie. An actual fucking bow tie. It was the same orange as the socks. Josa couldn't take her eyes off the calculated travesty of colour that Tauabdel wore. It was nearly as bad as the situation.

She kicked herself mentally for thinking that. It was horrible. A man was dead.

"I understand that it is bad," Weinreb frowned. "I am not a fool. I asked you here to help me determine a solution."

Taubadel smiled. His mouth was a thin line. "I know that. What can I say? There isn't one."

Weinreb placed his hands on his desk. "What? You're supposed to be the...the master of these sorts of things."

"And you are supposed to be clever," Taubadel shrugged. "We all disappoint."

Weinreb's mouth opened and closed. He looked remarkably like a dog trying to get peanut butter off the roof of its mouth, Josa noted. It was a surprisingly cheerful thing to think. It raised her spirits just a little. Taubadel glanced at her and winked so that Weinreb couldn't see. It was like he had read her mind. She looked away.

"You dare..." Weinreb started.

"Yes, I dare," said Taubadel. "I am nothing if not daring. You seem to have mistaken me for an advisor, Mr. President. A lackey. I am not. I am a representative of the Hegemony. I am here as a favour. You and yours screwed up royally, and I worked for the Lussers before this. I know what screwed up royalty looks like. The moment you tossed those investigators in jail, you sent this all into a tailspin. Do you not know the words persona non grata?"

Weinreb clenched his teeth. "You would do well to watch what you say, boy. I am the President in this room, after all."

"And we're your way out of this," Taubadel gestured between himself and Josa. "Ms. Katch, if you would be so kind?"

Josa walked over to the President's desk, her heels clicking on the floor, and placed a plain manilla envelope on the mahogany surface. "Atnaia has a vested interest in plausible deniability," she said. "We can't become tied up in where this is going, not publicly. But there is a way around that."

Weinreb picked up the envelope and opened it. He began scanning. "Stone Wall-Bastion?"

"Hire them," Taubadel waved his hand. "At a discount. Get some back-up. The League is going to use this as casus belli. You know that. You need people who know how to handle rebels and rabblerousers, and I promise you that there is no one better than the good ol' SWB."

Josa nodded. This had all been her idea, and, despite her misgivings about the man, Taubadel's whole-hearted acceptance of the idea gave her a small flush of pride. "Meanwhile, we have ANIA begin coordinating. We send you LISA trainers with an expertise in anti-dissident activities. We do everything shy of actually putting boots on the ground. But we also make sure that we cooperate where we can with the League, to make sure that that casus belli doesn't mean full-scale war."

"What are you suggesting, then?" Weinreb asked.

"Let the rest of the investigators go," Taubadel said. "Like, yesterday. Do everything you can to look repentant. Delay as long as possible what's going to happen. Give yourself a chance to get your feet under you and your back to a wall. Public relations can make you look contrite enough to distract and deny while we help you prepare. It's the best we can do."

"This all seems slip-shod and cowardly," Weinreb replied.

"Slip-shod and cowardly is what we have," Josa said. She made eye contact with the President and held it. She tried her best to infuse just a bit of sex in her expression. "Do what needs to be done, Mr. President."

"It will make me look weak," he said. "Make Charbagnia look weak."

"Better to look weak but be strong than to look strong and get fucked," Taubadel said.

Weinreb clenched his jaw again. "I will consider it."

Taubadel smiled. "That's all we ask."

[Noronica]

Helmwerder, Charbagnian Federation

The whole situation was an utter embarrassment for the country. It was obvious to see as even the highest of officials in Charbagnia were reluctant to see the light of the situation. A League investigator was dead and that was through pure incompetence, to which many wondered how it could have been prevented. After the massacre at the city square, many called into question the legitimacy of the President and his government. Pieces of leaked footage were slowly but surely presenting themselves, the media snatching and biting away like starved dogs, and soon the international community would get a hold on the situation despite the huge effort to deny and delete as per the instructions of the Atnaians.

The President himself had become more reclusive, taking to keeping to his office and playing croquet on the lawn of the palace. He knew that the situation was deteriorating fast, but it was his country, his leadership. He knew what the advice had been, to hand over all of the investigators, but he knew he couldn't lose face like this. He needed to retain dignity to maintain his legacy, lest he be toppled by those who sought to undermine him.

Everywhere Kurt went, he saw shadows, shadows of killers and dissenters. His own Government looked to find ways of further putting him down, hiring spies to follow him and watch his every move for even a slight slip of strength. Even the Atnaians had taken to speaking behind his back in closed rooms, God knows what they talked about. His Prime Minister was the only one that remained a friend, listening to Kurt and following orders.

Kurt hadn't noticed that he had dropped the glass until he lifted a foot off the ground, noticing that his shoes were covered in his drink. Scowling, Kurt wiped his feet on his office's carpet and turned to see the Governor of the prison holding the League investigators and his Secretary for Foreign Affairs were still watching him as they sat in their chairs behind his desk.

Bowing their heads, the two men gave each other a quick glance to which Kurt frowned at. Sitting back in his chair, he spoke with grinding teeth, "Do you have something to say, gentlemen?" At the shaking of their heads, Kurt rolled his eyes and spoke in a calmer manner, "We are going to do what the Atnaians have advised."

"Sir?" Both men questioned, not expecting that Kurt would follow through with the demands. However, both of them were glad, they were both interested in maintaining peace and this was a significant step forward.

"We shall give the League the peacekeeper and all of the investigators bar one," Kurt clenched his fist, "I cannot be humiliated by both the League, nor will I be undermined by that little Atnaian brat!" He rose from his chair and glared, "We will retain one as is our right. These are our prisoners and I don't care if they want the full package, they are getting enough. We have already been humiliated once, so no longer I say. We will show them that we still have power! Keep one of the investigators in a cell, I don't care who, just make sure one of them remains."

The two men didn't bother to argue, they knew that in the President's state they'd most likely be dead. Bowing their heads again, they went to follow orders, albeit with a sour taste in their mouths.

---

Zweilein Air Base, Charbagnian Federation

Harry felt tears brimming in his eyes after feeling rain pattering on his prison clothes. The rain was the one thing that reminded him of home as his house back in Noronica used to see torrential rain almost every second day.

Looking around at the others it seemed that they all had a similar reaction to being in the outside finally after a month of imprisonment. While it wasn't a long sentence, it had been fraught with torment and horrible conditions. Several had managed to gain bad infections and others were still in shock after their brief torture. Harry wasn't in a better situation as he also had to witness the death of the Corindi investigator. He remembered seeing the loss of life in the Corindi's eyes and it was a horrible experience.

All of the group stood when they saw the procession. It seemed that despite the tension, the Charbs had made one act of kindness as soldiers carried the coffin of the investigator with the deep blue Corindi flag draped over it, its usual vibrancy dampened by the rain. The coffin was secured in the transport aircraft before the investigators were herded in as well.

Once they had begun their ascent, Harry made a headcount to keep himself occupied, attempting to remember the nationality of each investigator. Something didn't feel right, so he made another headcount. Where's the Covonantian? Harry thought, alarm bells ringing in his head. He tried to gain the attention of the guards, but it seemed they knew what he wanted to know and were making a point of remaining silent.

The Charbs weren't keeping to their promise.

[Athara Magarat]

Helmwerder, Charbagnian Federation

Hyolma Hangma wished the negotiations would finish soon so that she and her people could return to New Libang. Despite being a member of the Divan-i-Magarati, she had been absent for several sessions due to meetings with foreign dignitaries and going to other nations as a special delegate.

As she clutched the paper and looked at Weinreb hesitatingly. She remembered the last time Athara Magarat had done so, Paija Hang, the then leader of Athara Magarat, had been spat on face and called a filth. Maybe that was why Jrm Hangma had sent her instead.

Kurt Weinreb was a busy man and he certainly had been even more busy due to recent incidents. Despite whatever reputation he had, Weinreb looked a lot more understandable and calmer person than dictator Raoul Sartin of Arvan had been, Hyolmo Hangma noted this to herself.

"I am afraid that I already said Charbagnia won't be signing your protocol. On indigenous rights." Weinreb said as he sipped his coffee. "This is the second time you are here with that paper, Hole-mo Hangma."

"It's pronounced more like Yolmo. The 'H' is silent, Mr Weinreb." Hyolmo Hangma corrected him finally. She had stayed silent regarding the name issue the last time she had visited him to ask for his signature in a copy of the Arun Valley Protocol.

"I see, that's a tribe name. Isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr Weinreb." The Athara Magarati delegate nodded. "And I am not here to talk about the Arun Valley Protocol this time. To be honest, the deadline for that thing is over. We are here to make an offer that we hope that you will accept."

Her aide then handed copies of the paper she was holding. The papers were in English, German, French and Charban respectively. Weinreb took them as he looked at what was written.

Here are the demands presented by the Democratic Republic of Athara Magarat to the Charbagnian Federation:

1> The Charbagnian Federation should send a special delegate to the League to provide answers.

2> The Charbagnian Federation should allow the League to send a peacekeeping mission to their territory if the League deems so necessary.

3> The Charbagnian Federation should not increase its military expenditure for at least five years.

4> The government of the Charbagnian Federation must host talks with the disgruntled factions within the country.

Sign Here
X__________________

"Mr Weinreb, I hope we can come to an understanding here." Hyolmo Hangma spoke in a softer voice. "It is not too late. We had offered this to Raoul Sartin of Arvan as well. He rejected our proposal and look at what happened to him. Please understand that if you come to agree to our terms, you shall have more friends than being reliant on just the Atnaians. And please think rationally before making the same mistake as Sartin."

Her voice then got a little louder. "The entire Isles and even your people against you, it's not good at all, Mr Weinreb..."

[Noronica]

Presidential Palace, Helmwerder, Charbagnian Federation

While Kurt's face maintained the picture of a kindly man, his eyes burned and his knuckles grew white with anger as his finger clenched on the arms of his chair. The ambassador had decided to be snarky with him even at such a tense moment, and for this Kurt was not exactly enthused. Glaring at the piece of paper before him, he felt his eyes move to his pen. However much he considered signing the damn thing, he knew it would be the end, and all pandemonium would break loose. It would be a show of weakness, and the fact that his Government officially denied the existence of any dissenting factions, meant that he was unable to sign the document otherwise he would be admitting to rebels.

He was outraged by the suggestion to reduce military spending. That was a complete and utter denial of sovereignty, as it took the reigns of his country's spending, emasculating it forever more. He was further angered by the fact that the ambassador dared to suggest that Charbagnia was weak against the storm. He wasn't some Arvanan madman, no, he wasn't going to concede and he was not making mistakes. He was well within his right to deny and move on from this, as the League had been given enough of their investigators, all would be too many, so he could not understand the constant pestering.

He slowly and painfully pushed the document away from him, making sure to emphasize the squeaks and scratches against the wooden desk and waited until it finally reached the other side.

"I'm afraid that I cannot accept this. I do very much want to come to terms with the League, but not in a manner that disregards our personal needs. If this is reformed in a better manner, then perhaps I would agree to some of the terms. There are no dissenting or 'disgruntled' factions within Charbagnia, merely terrorist splinter cells in the nation attempting to sow the seeds of dissent. I am sure you understand being from the homeland of one of the most hated terrorist organisations in the Isles." He smirked slightly as he said that, it was a good rebuttal to the Ambassador's thinly veiled comments.

"Charbagnia does not need friends, it needs to be allowed to conduct its matters alone, without the imperialistic and corrupt regimes of the Isles. Above all, it must be allowed to defend itself against adversary." Concluding, Kurt waited for a response, eager to kick the ambassador out.

[Athara Magarat]

There was a long silence. Hyolmo Hangma was by no means new to the job but Weinreb's answer and expressions frightened her a bit. Maybe more than a bit.

What would Paija Hang gave done here? What would Jrm Hangma say when faced with this? What would be King Ring Hang's answer? No they are not here. I have to do this.

"I am sorry it had come to this? Perhaps we could negotiate to leave out some of..."

She felt Weinreb glaring at her very, very angrily. She was sure that if she said a word more, the man would go berserk. She decided to resign from the task.

"I will notify the Divan-i-Magarati of your answer." She faked a smile. "Have a nice day, Mr Weinreb."

Hyolmo Hangma was eager to leave the room, no the entire country. She was sure Weinreb was eager to send her out as well. She decided the best course of action would be to return home and inform them of Weinreb's refusal.

[Dormill and Stiura]

Roagny, Secret Hideout
29 December, 2017
Joker 1-3 stood on a balcony in the once empty farmhouse, now filled to the brim with guns, revolutionaries, and vehicles shipped in over the past few weeks. Training was nearly complete for those who agreed to join the revolution. Over the past few days, members of the Deck had been committing minor crime across the French-dominated regions of the Federation ranging from vandalism to trespassing on private property and some unlawful assembly. A few people have been imprisoned already, but it all fits into the plan in place. Securing jails and police stations would allow the revolution to act freely until Dormill-Stiuraian intervention saves them from the military forces of the Federation.

Lauges, Frébonne
11 January 2018, 0530 Hours
The two weeks following the commencement of the operation were filled with the exact kind of strife the BRS/SI was expecting to cause. News from the League regarding a discussion of an intervention into Charbagnia was more than enough to stir the pot with the extreme French Nationalists, nearly all of them protesting in the streets that the issue was perpetuated exclusively by the German-majority government with growing support from Liberté pour les Gens Party since the protests began, but none of them directly supporting revolution. Those in the government that are in on the plan have also been informed to remain on the wings until things go far enough.

Meanwhile, arms have been spread all over the necessary staging grounds, such as in Lauges where rifles stockpiled from the Dormill-Stiuraian Civil War have been stored for the march south towards Narzieu.

“Are we sure this is enough to win over Frébonne?”, a person asks as they walk into the warehouse.

“It should be, but if not, our allies will certainly make up for it in their own men once they show up.”, another answers as he reviews the crates holding the guns they’ll use in a matter of hours.

“What about the German parts? Shouldn’t we be aiming to dethrone their misguided government?”, the first asks.

“Why should we?”, the second begins, “We’re trying to win over our own state with the aid of our allies. The Germans will be just as much of an issue if we try to conquer them as they are now.”

“But-”

“But nothing, just get ready at your position. We’ll be ready in less than an hour.”

“Yes, sir” as the first man walked out of the warehouse.

Palace of the President, New Avillon, Federal Republic of Dormill and Stiura
0600 Hours, 11 January 2018
Though it has been less than a day since Cedar Dyson was inaugurated as President of Dormill and Stiura, he had yet to get a moment of sleep thanks to recent events, most particularly the war against Belle Isle en Terre and its impacts on the revolution in Charbagnia, which he is now charged with leading.

Rubbing his exhausted eyes, Dyson walks back to his Presidential Office after recovering a cup of coffee from the room over. Sitting behind the famous desk, he stares down the painting of Rémy Delauney as he contemplates what’ll happen next.

“Mr. President, the Empress is here for you.”, a telecom speaker squeaks out on his right.

“Thank you, let her in”, the President responds.

After the Presidential Guards open the door, Trix walks through carrying a briefcase and well dressed for the rather mundane task of meeting with the President. She is well aware of the risk her position is in, making a good enough impression on the President to prevent him from acting against her was crucial. “It’s good to finally meet you Mr. President.”

“To you as well, Dr. Lovel. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“Yes, it’s regarding our operations in Charbagnia.”, she responds while passing over a SIR to the President regarding the current operation.

Cedar stands up and walks towards the window while reading the report, studying it closely and judging the reliability of his Director of the BRS/SI in light of the recent leaks. “I suppose you’re here to request my approval to do something there?”

“Yes sir, it shouldn’t be an issue. We even have reports that the revolutionaries are ready to begin their part of the operation.”

“And as for the safety of this information?”, the President asks as he turns back to Trix, sizing her up.

“Sir…”, she straightens up as he continues to stare at her, “Are you assuming that our information services are not secure?”

“Need I remind you of the position we’re in because they weren’t?”, he snaps back at her.

Trix recoils, both out of anger and fear, “Sir! We don’t even know how that happened, how are you to hold me accountable for that?”

“Answer the question before you make a mistake, Doctor.” he responds, angered at this kind of insubordination that he will have to get used to.

“I can assure you that any and all information regarding this operation are secure. All connections between us and the Charbs are invisible.”

“Make sure of that, I’m not sure if I can abide by a second breach of security that will risk the stability of my administration. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mister President.”, she responds sternly.

“Then you have my approval, let this revolution in Charbagnia commence.”

“Thank you, Mister President.” she responds, standing and storming out of the office as soon as she finished her statement.

The President sits at his desk, the SIR before him and stows it away in his own briefcase. Hopefully this won’t go as badly as the War, he thinks to himself as he continues to drink his coffee and proceed with his other early morning affairs.

Maubagne, Soignane
11 January 2018, 0615 Hours
“The protestors that are out on the streets this morning look slightly different than they did over the past week. Should we be concerned about this?”, a local police officer asked her partner

“I don’t think we should be”, her partner responds, “Even if they were trying to do something new today, they won’t be able to do much against our new barricades.”

As they drove closer to downtown, a faint noise of musical instruments can be heard, emanating from somewhere behind the main crowd. The closer they got, the louder the music got until they began to hear singing. The second officer began to recognize the song in moments, his partner somehow oblivious to it.

“Stop the car.”

“What?”

“Do you hear them sing?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Allons, Enfants de le Patrie … It’s La Marseillaise.”

“What?”

“I think we should be very concerned about how the protesters look today.”

“We still have a job to do, we have to get down there and calm the crowd down before something violent happens!”, she finishes just before turning on her sirens and racing closer to downtown.

All over the French-dominated regions of the Federation, the songs of the French Revolution can be heard far and wide. The Revolution has finally begun after years of suffering terrible injustices at the hands of the Germans who presume to rule over Charbagnia.

[Atnaia]

The pressure in the room was tangible, a weight on Josa's shoulders and chest. She could see it weighing on Taubadel's face, an uncharacteristic furrow between his brows and a stress in the veins of his neck. He tapped two of his fingers on the table in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

"Well," he said. "This has all gone tits up, hasn't it?"

Josa had to agree. It had all gone tits up. The withdrawal from the League was exactly what they didn't need. They needed a voice in that hall, delaying, distracting, deliberately dancing around the dangerous details. They needed someone to guide the conversation, control the perception, or, at the least, make enough of themselves there that people would ignore things here.

She sighed. "I can't believe the Hegemon didn't discuss this with you and the rest of the Quorum."

Taubadel's jaw tensed, minutely, nearly invisibly. She'd spent enough time around him now to notice the microexpression, though. Anger. "Foreign policy is one of the Hegemon's responsibilities," he said without inflection.

"Doesn't he normally...nominally, I guess...discuss it with the Quorum first?"

"It has been his trend, yes," Taubadel rubbed that furrow between his brows. "I suppose he has some sort of plan, but I will tell you that it grandly fuck's up our designs. Keeping the League close enough to gut-punch if we needed it was mission critical. This requires...adjustment."

Josa nodded. There was a tension across her forehead that her tight bun wasn't helping. She reached back and undid it. "Okay," she said. "Okay. What do we do?"

Taubadel's rhythmic tapping droned out three more beats before he spoke. "SWB is still on. LISA training is still on. The issue is that this whole situation was supposed to act like our big Aztec sacrifice, keeping the gods appeased with blood for one more year. Long enough for Merrit to resolve. The timing needed to be perfect. Without someone running interference in the League, we have to expect that those people we could convince to remain neutral will start to swing in favour of the white-eggs-and-cream school."

Taubadel often spoke in metaphors, and Josa could usually track them. This one actually raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Taubadel's rhythm stopped. "Oh, you know how milk, eggshell and cream are all actually just shades of the same colour of paint?" he said. "That's the League members. Shades of the same colour of paint."

"I suppose," Josa replied. "That wasn't your finest work."

"I'm stressed," he said, and Josa could actually believe it. "But no, it wasn't my best...maybe it would be best to describe them as grey goo? A flavourless nutrition paste with no definable characteristics and no purpose beyond a momentary survival? Regardless..."

He trailed off, into some recess of his computer mind. His eyes lost focus and his mouth became a thin line. Josa took her own moment to think, to consider the corners and doors and chokepoints of their current situation. People who claimed that wars were won on the battlefield had clearly never sat in a room with a pair of political tacticians like Josa Katch and Chris Taubadel.

What they needed was some new inspiration. All the pieces were there for some workable way through the bottleneck, but their perspectives were too limited by the moment. Josa knew that, would have liked a team to help, but the best they could muster was a handful of aides, each operating on only the slim piece of knowledge they were allowed access to. There was too much confidential information, Indigo-coded files, messy tangles of need-to-knows and for-eyes-only.

"ANIA," she finally said.

"What about them?" Taubadel asked.

"They're the tool, right? They're what we need to use."

"If there was anything ANIA can do, they're already doing it, trust me," Taubadel said. "Pajvhr and Rice will see to that."

Josa couldn't kick the feeling that the solution was right there, right in the tip of her tongue and edge of her mind. She ground her teeth together. She could feel the stress she was holding between her shoulder blades radiating up her neck and prickling her brain stem.

"Agents provacateurs," she murmured, then shook her head.

Taubadel perked up. "Sorry?"

"Could we be considering this as...too one-sided?" she said. "We may have blinded ourselves through unilateral support of Weinreb. We chose our side and didn't consider..."

"Oh," Taubadel said. Then he grinned. A real grin. A human one. "Ooooh. Yes. We've spent too much time trying to draw attention away from what Weinreb is doing, without having anywhere to put that attention."

Josa nodded. "Agents provacateurs," she said.

"We don't try and sow confusion in the ranks of the enemy," Taubadel nodded. "We make them worse. We get our men inside, get them to ramp up the rhetoric, push the situation further and further. If we make the rebels as bad as the situation with Weinreb looks..."

"The line between freedom fighters and terrorists is a slim one," Josa said. "I'm sure we could convince a few people in the League to back off if we can make the independence movement political suicide to support."

Taubadel nodded. "You are a very devious mind, Ms. Katch," he said, and it sounded like a term of endearment. "I'll get Rice on the phone."