Patria Delenda Est (IC | TWI ONLY | CLOSED)

[Noronica]

Introduction

OOC Thread

Reminder - This RP is for The Western Isles 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 look at the OOC thread.

Trystan let out a calm breath, cooly gazing at the mahogany door before him. If this was out of context, he would have loved to have just sauntered through the corridors, allowing his imagination to run amok as he inspected every inch of the building. Many of the political buildings in Nolon City were the by-products of the Noronnican Empire, being built to reflect its lofty arrogance, and the Mayoral building was most definitely one of them.

After it was razed to the ground by arsonists, the building was completely rebuilt in 1883 by the architect Cailanah Ediston, who, while being a controversial choice, designed a vast and intricate building. She and many others, over the years, filled it with the various artefacts bought from influential collectors in Nolon, converting the Mayoral building into a museum more than a political building.

Trystan turned to stare at a small glass cabinet beside him. Everything in the building was kept to immaculate standards, so a discrepancy could only really be noticed when squinting. Trystan could just see that the cabinet was collecting a light smattering of dust and its base was slightly skewed. Inside the cabinet lay two crossed golden keys. They were simply-designed, yet they held a significance more vital than anything in the entire building. In Noronica, the two golden keys were a symbol of the state and the people, two keys to unlock prosperity. Despite that fact, the glass cabinet had been virtually ignored.

To ignore such symbols of the state was a treasonable offence to Trystan. It gave way to complacency and the disregard for state integrity. This, to him, perfectly epitomised the domestic situation. He despised the fact that Noronica was still floundering despite its exponential growth in the past few years. The state had merely just brushed corruption under the carpet and walked away, only to allow the corruption to then crawl back out.

Fortunately for Trystan, he had watched the corruption fester from afar, travelling the Isles to educate himself and complete his Army tours in Arván and Charbagnia. Many officials believed that his father had sent a petulant child off for an extended holiday around the Isles, but everything Trystan did was for how he would be viewed by the public when he came home. His military service was especially key. It mattered not what a politician stood for or did, there was always respect for servicemen.

Trystan heard the door open. His aide, Jordan Dunkehld, stepped inside the corridor and smirked, “Sir, we have the reporters waiting for you. Mostly domestic but there are a few foreigners interested. Oh, and I’ve also got something else to tell you,” his smile widened, “inside there are several ‘interested parties’ waiting in the wings who want to talk.”

Trystan grinned as he pushed his tie further into his collar, speaking quietly, “Well well. Tell them that I am interested in meeting them after I am inaugurated.”


Jordan nodded, holding the door open for Trystan who walked through it with a winning smile plastered on his face. His posture was that of confidence and ease, perfect for the cameras. He added a touch of arrogance for good measure, he was still a prince after all.

Prefect Mollie Tressa stood with a look of utter distaste and boredom on her face. She was a typical bureaucrat, wearing very drab business attire and her hair held in a tight bun behind her head. Her lips formed a thin line on her face, and her eyes lazily followed Trystan as he approached her. Trystan was annoyed with her abrasiveness, but put up with it to maintain his appearances and to maintain his own sanity.

Prefect Tressa had a small smile on her face when she took Trystan’s hand into her own, “What a pleasure it is to see you, your Royal Highness. I must admit that I am surprised, but I am interested to see how you will serve as Mayor.” No she wasn’t. She had repeated that statement several times, her mouth running off like a factory conveyor belt.

Trystan nodded, “Oh, it is a true pleasure Prefect Tressa, I hope that I may serve you well. I am terribly sad at the fact that the other strongest candidate dropped out as she did.” He rattled off, his eyes more interested in Jordan, who stood behind Prefect Tressa, speaking to various officials in the shadows of the room. Satisfied when he saw smiles on the faces of those officials, he spoke again excitedly, "Shall we?"

Prefect Tressa smiled thinly and presented the Bible, "As a member of the royal family, you shall be swearing to God." She said, speaking as if this fact was odd. It was alienation, many politicians swore on the constitution or the crown, so this isolated Trystan as a 'different' candidate. Trystan nodded in understanding and placed his hand upon the Bible, his fingers curling around the edges of the book in a tight grip.

"Repeat after me," Prefect Tressa said, her voice monotone, "I, Prince Trystan Arthur Thomas Alexander, do solemnly swear to faithfully uphold the values of and be faithful to His Majesty Overlord Tytus Alexander I. In doing so, I swear to serve him and his subjects to faithfully execute the position of Mayor of the City of Nolon. So help me God."

Trystan repeated the oath with ease, his eyes staring into the distance as the cameras zoomed in. When all was said and done, the cameramen were ushered away and Prefect Tressa placed the Bible on a nearby table with as much disregard as she had shown before the oath.

"I do hope that we can maintain a good working relationship between our offices, it is so very exciting, this new era of youth taking on this coveted position!" She said, her tinkling giggle at the end a sickly rotten sound which was plastered with as much hatred as it was friendly. She didn't care, and would most likely keep the leash on Trystan very long.

[Noronica]

Cabinet Room, State Palace, Nolon City

---

Joshua's hands were curled into fists under the long table, his knuckles bleached white from the pressure of his anger. His cabinet looked to him with either concern or anger. Joshua gazed up at his ministers and glowered, "Tell me again boy," he whispered, his voice on a knife's edge. The aide that had entered the room now looked immeasurably more worried than he had before, seeing his Prime Minister had turned almost murderous.

His voice shaking, the aide told the cabinet his message, "I- the- the BIS Director Jeremy Heartwell wishes to inform the Cabinet that there is evidence of..." his voice trailed off into the distance as he refused to finish his sentence.

"Of?!" Joshua asked loudly, glaring at the aide.

"Election fraud in the Mayoral elections b-by the Crown sir." He finished quickly before making a quick bow and turning to leave the room. Joshua was not going to chase after him, instead, his fist slammed on the table hard, the wood creaking with the force.

"That bastard has gone behind my back to attempt this plot against me! I was willing to tolerate that man and his spawn, yet I am now all the more for hauling back the chopping block." Joshua exclaimed, snarling.

Brandon Andrews, Home Secretary, spoke calmly, "Sir, this behaviour shown by the Overlord is simply disgusting, however, I must urge you to calm. We cannot be seen to sink lower than their childish ploy." Many in the cabinet nodded, it made sense to not be drastic.

Martyn Greyhound, Secretary for Defence, felt entirely the opposite, "And then show that the democratic machinery of this nation may be used to aggrandise oneself? Brandon, you cannot seriously be suggesting that we do not respond, it would be a political disaster if our rivals across the seas knew about this situation. I will not stand by and allow the nation to fall into disrepute by a petulant monarch!" He turned to Joshua with a solemn gaze, "Is it not time that we initiate our plans?"

Joshua smirked, his anger replaced by an ever-growing lust for revenge creeping onto his features, "I believe that would be the better option."

Lord Finely Phillips and a few other in the cabinet were concerned, they had not been informed of any new policy changes other than infrastructure and education. Lord Phillips spoke, his hands clasped on the table before him, "Are we to believe that there is a new policy change that we were not informed of? Joshua, it is highly important that we are united as a cabinet. What is this 'plan', and how does it relate to this, might I remind you all, alleged election fraud?"

Joshua leaned forward, speaking smoothly, "Finely, my dear friend. Many in the cabinet are in agreement that the monarchy, in this modern nation, is simply too old an institution to allow to stay in power. It restricts us from doing our duty to this nation, and with this new evidence coming out, who knows how much more the Overlord has done which is unconstitutional? I for one am highly concerned that such a destructive influence is still allowed to act in this dear nation of ours."

Lord Phillips gasped, his eyes wide with shock, "You would be desecrating the nation's traditions! Our monarchy is a sacred part of our constitution! Surely it is better to open an investigation, or better yet, just silence this damn business, so that we may continue to face our more important threats at current?"

Joshua continued to fix Lord Phillips with a glare, speaking softly, "I beg your pardon? Are you not at all bothered by the fact that our democratic institutions were defiled by a man who never deigns to leave his golden palace? If we do not act now, who knows what shall happen next?"

Joshua turned to the rest of the cabinet, "I believe that it is time that we made this public. Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce the plan to severely reduce the powers of the Overlord. As it states clearly in the bill, which shall be introduced by the Federal Assembly today," he slid a copy to every member on the table, "he shall remain a figurehead and our Head of State, but he will not have any say or power over us. Nor shall the armed forces be sworn to him, they shall be sworn to me."

Half of the cabinet stood to protest, their anger evident as the room exploded into raging and arguing. Soon the entire cabinet was on their feet, with those loyal to Joshua trying to shout down the critics who were furious at this course of action.

Joshua simply pulled out his mobile from his pocket and sent a quick text. The doors were then slammed open and several armed BIS officers entered the room, lining the walls and keeping their weapons against their abdomen. None of them had to act, their presence was enough.

"Who shall argue against the bill?" Joshua asked, his smile widening.

[Noronica]

Federal Council, Federal Assembly, Nolon City

---

Alisdair Flanders, Prefectorial Councillor, stood in the central dais of the Federal Council. He had no reason to be there other than to admire the view of the room, which he often did. Behind him was a behemoth of a painting, standing tall before the Councillors in a proud statement of the nation's history. For Alisdair, it was often something to look at to prevent last night's insomnia from catching up with him.

The light from the windows cascaded across the room, allowing Alisdair to see the particles of morning dust float calmly around the sun's warm light. He let out the breath he was holding and smiled, allowing him to forget the room, the politics, the stress, he was just an old man standing amongst history. What he would have given to maintain that feeling, but it seemed that he was destined for discomfort, as a bellowing shout broke his peace.

"Alisdair you old bugger! How are you?" A man in his thirties came swiftly towards him, his face red with excitement and the effort of walking fast through the corridors of the Federal Assembly. Johnathan Montague always went around too fast, running circles around his colleagues both literally and figuratively, as the man was also a promising politician. Alisdair had seen the potential in him years before, and thus they had formed a close mentor relationship, as Alisdair taught Johnathan the ropes of politicking.

"Fine. I'm fine my boy. More importantly, how is your father? I have heard great things from Arván." Alisdair spoke, an actual smile gracing his features. He rarely smiled earnestly, what with a political life preventing him from expressing true emotion, but it was at times like these when Alisdair could afford to let his guard down.

Johnathan's face soured slightly, talk of his father often boring him, "Prefect Lord Bartholomew Montague," he announced in pompous satire, "has initiated quite the ambitious infrastructure project in his personal fiefdom." Johnathan sighed exasperatedly, "Can we please move past talk of my father, and instead talk about this new bill that was debated this morning? You certainly provided quite the show."

Alisdair smirked, "Quite my boy, quite." Alisdair had a reputation for his speeches, especially when it came to debating against the Government. While he still had breath, Alisdair would continue to rant and rave, causing his targets to go through every shade of red in anger.

Johnathan moved his head closer to Alisdair's, lowering his tone for the other Councillors still in the chamber, "I am rather worried about this bill myself. It goes against our very constitution, and as you always remind us, the status quo must remain."

Alisdair nodded solemnly, "That is quite right, and yet you must also remember that we are bound by the laws of this nation. I would rather be struck down than become a rebellious-sort. If the constitution changes legally, then so must we. As long as we enforce the democratic values of the Federal Assembly, then our stability shall continue to exist in perpetuity."

Johnathan nodded, yet his face warned of an upcoming argument, "However, I am not entirely sure if I would remain bound by law if Tytus Alexander himself reformed the NFM and-" Johnathan was interrupted by Alisdair's hand landing on his shoulder.

Alisdair regarded Johnathan with the utmost seriousness, his eyes boring into Johnathan's, "We are the last bastion of democracy. If all else fails, we must do our duty to the constitution and not a personality. The Crown is a part of said constitution, and so if it rebels, we must be there to pick up the pieces. You have often spoken of loyalty, and yet you do not know it in earnest. The nation is our rock, and so we shall be its defenders."

Johnathan nodded, his eyes wide as Alisdair squeezed his shoulder. Alisdair continued, "I shall see you again, most likely soon as the bill is being passed through the Assembly at a rate of knots, but until then, remember your loyalties."

[Iosnil]

The Royal Yacht, International District

Queen Verona had come to the International District as part of the plan to bring Iosnil back onto the world stage, her presence was the most important part of the the plan, the most powerful woman in Iosnil reaching out was the ultimate hearts and minds gesture.

This didn’t mean any respite from her duties as head of state. She had regular briefings on current homeland and regional business.

She sat in her Quarters reading a letter from a primary school class in Ayethrion asking her to visit them when the new baby was born, this made her smile, she looked up at Director Venios who was sat waiting to be addressed by her.

He was a young man for his station, at the age of thirty two he had become the head of The Department of Civil and Military Intelligence (DCMI)

“Director this is quite unusual, I thought at your rank you never left Iosnil?”

“I’m sorry your majesty but unusual circumstances call for unusual actions, my agents in Noronica have been reporting an alarming shift in policy. The Prime Minister is passed a bill reducing the Overlords power and forcing the military to swear alliance to him.” Venios spoke softly despite the gravity of the situation that could potentially unfold. He continued he voice never raising“ it is my departments view that if left unchecked we could be facing the fall of monarchies across the region that could leave us isolated and potentially at risk of invasion”.

“ and what checks would your department suggest?” Queen Verona replied as she looked out of the window at the international district.

“ I have already increased surveillance in the area, i hope that we can stop this before it escalates but if not I fear we could be drawn into this”

[Noronica]

State Palace, Outskirts of Nolon City

---

Joshua was awoken by something shaking his shoulder incessantly. Spluttering as he woke abruptly, his bleary eyes could just make out the figure before him. His Chief of Staff, Malcolm Schmidt, stood next to his bed his face betraying the fear in his eyes. Joshua sobered quickly, noting that Malcolm was never fazed by anything least of all this early in the morning. A creeping sense of concern shivered down Joshua's spine, something which rarely happened. It meant that something unexpected had cropped up, something which he had not prepared for and he would, therefore, have to attempt to face.

Still annoyed at being awoken so early, Joshua snapped at Malcolm, "What is it Malcolm? Spit it out or I'll call the guards." Joshua watched as Malcolm's shoulders slumped, and listened as an unusually concerned voice emanated from Malcolm's quivering mouth.

"I- the- Sir, we have a problem. Something we did not prepare for. Tytus has called for a Press Conference." Malcolm whispered, his eyes wide with stress.

Joshua scoffed, "Ah, truly something to wake your Prime Minister for, the monarch is giving a speech. What, another planned speech we gave him on the advances in education this year?" He sneered, "Hardly something to waste my time, wouldn't you agree?"

Malcolm's mouth moulded into a grimace, "Sir, his media team has managed to assemble as many foreign and domestic news correspondents and reporters as possible. The Press Room is reportedly swamped with people." He snatched the television remote from the bedside table and switched it on. Ignoring the costume drama on the screen, Malcolm flicked through the television guide until he settled on NMC One. Both men leaned in when the screen buffered, gasping when the image of a bustling press room filled the screen. It was truly monstrous, as some reporters were forced to sit on the floor while others fought over seats.

Joshua's wife Beatrice stirred, hearing the television blare out the sound of the press conference. She slid up until her back rested on the bed's frame, watching with her husband and Malcolm as the conference was called to order.


Press Room, Royal Palace, Overlord Square, Nolon City

---

It was an utter madhouse in the Palace Press Room, reporters continued to stream into the room despite calls from the palace guards to halt. The foreign reporters seemed to note down the situation for a later date when they might write an article on the rudeness of Noronnican reporters, who were wrestling the others for seats and prime camera spots. Guards stood by like zookeepers as the animals fought for their territory, their eyes focused on the doors rather than the rabble.

As if by some form of magic, when the sounds of approaching heels clicked outside the door, the room almost froze in an instant. The sweeping figure of Tytus Alexander entered the room, his head high and his shoulders swept back in calm confidence. The man was not nervous, instead portraying someone who was surefooted, giving the assumption to the journalists that he had something to hide.

Tytus stood at the podium, donning a perfect poker-face for the cameras, his eyes scanning the crowd. He maintained this position for a while, allowing many of the journalists to subconsciously draw themselves closer to him, waiting with bated breath, their hands shaking with the enticing thought of an exciting story.

His eyes finally settled on one camera. It was normal for a speaker to fix themselves onto one object or space in the room for their talk, yet this choice was intentional. As on that channel's camera, NMC One, Tytus knew Joshua would be watching.

"I am often struck by the importance that this nation grants Queen Magaidh. She was truly a remarkable and awe-inspiring leader, preventing a small backwater kingdom from being swamped by a vast empire that sought to dominate the Isles. Not only did she save Noronica, she wrestled it into the forefront of Khas-Kirati politics for the longest time, assuring that our early legacy made a mark on this region. Therefore, it is with that in mind that I recall a quote of hers, out of many, and it is this:" Tytus' voice echoed around the room, growing louder as he reached the quote, ensuring that every word seeped into the minds of those in the room and those watching live, "'If a man chooses to challenge me, let him be a saint.' It is an impossible dream, but in the political sphere, one must be prepared to show themselves to be faithful to their public image. Yet I was given the newspapers alongside breakfast as is usual, to which I was confronted by the headlines discussing these 'Bedside Papers'." It was imperceptible to most, but Tytus' mouth was curling slowly upwards as he spoke, betraying his pleasure, "In light of this new evidence, I am utterly disgusted that my Prime Minister has conducted himself in such a manner. What concerns me further is his belief that he should need to change the country's constitution if he is in no state whatsoever to do so. When the Civil War came to an end, I ensured that the constitution was made with airtight precision central to democratic values. I am now unsure as to whether the Prime Minister is filling his obligation as a loyal servant to the constitution as we are all."

Tytus' tone took a certain edge, dropping the temperature of the room, "It is now with my obligation as sovereign and servant of the constitution that I remind my Prime Minister and the Government that I am an integral part of the lawmaking process. Every week I sign acts into law and on paper, and it is my right as sovereign to choose whether or not to sign."

With that, Tytus turned to leave. At first, the room was silent, echoing into millions of homes around the nation. Then the noise was deafening.

[Iosnil]

Nolon City


Varemila Melrelo, a young Iosnilian journalist sat in a busy cafe frantically typing on her laptop. Her editor had come down pretty hard on her for missing the ‘bedside papers’ story so she had become desperate to get the next break in what ever was going on in Noronica. Varemila brushed the red streak in her hair, it was the latest fashion trend in Iosnil ever since Queen Verona came to power.

“Miss Melrelo?” Came a voice with the smallish hint of Iosnilian almost as if the owner put it on.
Varmelia turned to see an older man dressed in a dated suit, one that would be easily overlooked in a crowd. The man sat on the chair opposite her “sorry but I’m a at loss who might you be?” She replied with a certain authoritative coldness.

“My name is unimportant, you however are of great interest to my organisation, we have been keeping a close eye on your career particularly out here in Noronica. You see your position has a great deal of influence over the Iosnilian peoples opinion and we would just like to remind you that the Overlord is a friend to Queen Verona”

The last comment was like a punch to the stomach, was he asking her to manipulate what she wrote to favour the Overlord? And using the Queen, a woman she looked up too. Hell what Iosnilian woman didn’t look up to the Queen? Before she could get her answers he was gone.

[Noronica]

Lancaston, Sessux Isle

---

"It's Rodren."

"Aye, good timing, keep your head down and follow me." Came a voice from behind the small steel door. Ripped shards of posters advertising past concerts and the aptly named 'Gentleman's Club' lay strewn across the door or on the ground, rattling in the wind. Rodren dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out before kicking it into the weeds growing from the cracks of the road. The door opened to reveal a man littered with tattoos, a sight rather uncommon in mainland Noronica, but not in the Sessux Isle.

The man stood about five foot seven to Rodren's six, yet Rodren couldn't help but feel unnerved by the man's constant glare, and his toned limbs. However, the man also wore a smirk, something which instilled little but welcome comfort in Rodren who merely nodded and turned to make sure no one had followed him before he entered the darkened hallway.

"Can I get you something, ehm... Rodren?" The man asked, his demeanour shifting into that of friendliness. Rodren got the impression that the man wasn't used to pleasantries, but he was someone that was loyal to those he was close to, and so he would struggle through smiles even if he had to.

Rodren shook his head, "Nah mate, thanks for asking but I could really just get in with the others right now."

The man chuckled, "Wee bit eager are we? Ah, no bother just go straight through the hallway and you'll find them," he paused as both he and Rodren could hear heightened chatter, "but I think you'll find them easily."

Rodren sniggered, threw his coat on a nearby table and walked to the door where the noise was the loudest. Opening it, he saw that the others were all sat down around a table which was dressed with a large cloth. Upon closer inspection, Rodren recognised exactly what it was, the state flag of the Sessux Isle. With a large grin, he strode towards the table with intent, banging his fist on the table.

"Rodren! Glad to see you here finally, I thought I'd have to sleep with you to get you here!" Exclaimed the leader, John, an ex-serviceman who was close friends with Rodren. He was a tall man, his Magarati roots clear by his features and his accent which was a common Noronnican and Magarati mixed dialect found around the island.

"How could I not be a little sceptical, I mean have you seen the amount of movement around the Isles that never really take off?" Rodren said, plopping himself down onto an offered chair, "However, I liked the idea so I came along."

"We could not ask any more of you, sir." Came a voice from the corner of the room. It seemed that only John knew about this extra figure as everyone including Rodren turned to look at the new arrival while John merely wore a grim look. The figure stepped forward, revealing a very familiar face, Natalya Gaeharn, State Prefect of the Sessux Isle.

Rodren was the only one to reply, "Prefect Gaeharn? Why-?"

"Do you not follow politics Rodren?" Natalya asked, her voice demeaning, "I have always made it clear that I am Sessux islander first and foremost, I just don't tend to show my true nature. It seems that John was able to convince me to appear in person, but I have been here for a long time. Besides, how do you imagine that the movement gets its funding? I keep the money flowing and the connections deep so as to allow us an opportunity for our true political persuasions."

"She's right Rodren mate. She and I have been partners for how long? Pff, I'd have to say probably ten years?" John said, lighting a cigarette of his own.

Natalya nodded, "Fine, introductions are over. It is now time to face facts, I am the only one in this room that has a name and voice that carry weight. Plans are now being set in motion to forward our motives, and as the machinery within Noronnican politics begins to clog, we have to be aggressive."

One of the older members jumped to his feet, "Aye! We'll take 'em by surpri-"

Natalya gave the man a weary look, "Sit. Down." That immediately quietened the man who sat back down swiftly. Satisfied, Natalya nodded, "We must act carefully. We are amidst a powerful enemy, even if turmoil has begun to dig its roots. I advocate a foreground-background approach, one in which we ensure our public face remains peaceful, yet we maintain a steady stock of supplies."

"We would be shut down immediately." Rodren said, downcast, "McIntosh's Government clamp down on anything against the party-line."

"That is certainly the case in the mainland, but I have the ear of many in the island. If I do not want protestors unharmed, the police shall take a day off. We shall create an unignorable mess on the streets of Lancaston that the whole island will know of us." Natalya spoke with growing fervour in her voice, "They shall know of their own struggle and shall join us in the masses. As I still have free breath in my lungs away from my colleagues who are puppets to McIntosh, I shall ensure a free Sessux."

The old man from before took to his feet again, "We'll stand behind you lass! An end to Nolon rule!"

[Noronica]

Godwin House, State of Glasregia

---

Prince Trystan was used to background dealing, as his time in the various nations of the Western Isles taught him to be smart and use back channels first before making one's intentions known. However, he was not used to situations such as these. While many would assume that dealing would take place in dark alleyways with dimmed flickering lamps by the roadside, Trystan now stood in a vast 18th Century hallway with suits of armour lining each side. He felt ridiculous dressed in a kilt at a time such as this, but he knew that Laerd Godwin would appreciate the gesture, especially on the day of his daughter's wedding day.

It was fortunate that Trystan had been childhood friends with the Laerd's daughter Shana, and now that she was to be married Trystan appeared to be attending to see off his friend. He had to admit that he did not take to the groom, yet perhaps that was due to the residual emotion from prior feelings for Shana more than legitimate dislike. It did not matter anyway, for Trystan would not be focused much on the wedding, instead focusing on his friend's father.

The Godwins were an extremely old and prestigious aristocratic family, reaching back to the times of King Edmund in 1104. Somehow, despite political turmoil and constant in-fighting between the clans, the Godwins maintained their family seat. They had been prosperous, they had been poor, (in aristocratic terms) and yet they survived. They were blessed by Noronica's colonial ambitions, as they managed to sow their seeds in many industries, their names adorning several prominent factories across Noronica and the Isles. The Godwins continued to prosper well into the 21st Century, boasting several businessmen in the family and several political figures in the Federal Assembly.

Ergo, Trystan sought them for an alliance. They were friendly with the Royal Family, the House of Alexander, and due to the real friendship between Trystan and Shana, Trystan had bonded with Laerd Ronald Godwin, Clan Laerd and President of the Board of
Rehbon Mining Corporation, Noronica's largest mining company. With the mining industry being what it is in Noronica, Laerd Godwin was certainly very influential economically and his word carried weight around the nation. It was not just this that Trystan was interested in, as the Godwins were also heavily involved in organised crime in Noronica. Illegal arms sales were carried out by them around the Isles, and word had it that arms companies such as HDS were sometimes complicit, wanting their name to be known around the Isles.

Prince Trystan grinned, with a steady flow of armaments, simple protests around Noronica could now be a lot more deadly. Not only that, but his father's plans could be easily put into action.

Opening the hall's doors wide open, his mouth morphed into a wide grin, "Uncle Ronald!" He cried out, walking swiftly up to Laerd Godwin, his arms outstretched. Laerd Godwin returned the gesture in kind, meeting Trystan with an embrace of his own.

"My good God son, you have grown since the last time I met you! You were a wee scrawny tyke years back, but now look at you!" Laerd Godwin exclaimed, his eyes beaming with familiarity and joviality. It was genuine, and despite the two knowing that this was not a chance meeting, they were still good friends.

"Hah! Some might still say I am." Trystan said cheekily before setting himself down on an armchair.

Laerd Godwin grinned and checked his watch before sitting down on another chair, "Ach, there is still time before the big show. Fancy a bit of liquid courage?" He asked Trystan, gesturing towards a decanter on the table before them both.

Trystan shook his head, eager to keep a clear mind while discussing, "If you haven't forgotten Uncle Ronald, I'm the ringbearer, so perhaps that may not be such a good idea? Of course," he said, the cogs of his mind churning, "I will not deny a Clan Laerd his drink!"

To Trystan's expectations, Laerd Godwin nodded with a grin, patting his pot belly and took several swigs. Sure, Laerd Godwin was a sound man with a warm heart and a calculating mind, but as any traditional Noronnican, he was a fan of his drink. Trystan would need his potential business partner still lucid for their conversation, but that did not mean a few drinks would hurt, especially to sweeten the deal.

"So, are you keeping well, Mayor Trystan?" Laerd Godwin asked, "A little birdy told me that our boy Trystan managed to climb the political ladder only a few weeks after his arrival back in the homeland! At only a young age as well, my my." His voice's volume lowered slightly, "It is with that in mind that I ask you. Is this business with being Mayor of Nolon anything to do with why you appear before me?"

Trystan let himself relax into his seat, both in comfort and to show himself to be calm before Laerd Godwin, "When you put it that way, I suppose the two might be connected." He spoke earnestly, "You must understand however that I do intend to be here as Shana's friend, but why not kill to birds with one stone, as the saying goes?"

Laerd Godwin chuckled, "Good to have you back my boy."

[Noronica]

Federal Council Chamber, Federal Assembly, Nolon City

---

Joshua grinned, he adored being in the Federal Assembly. It allowed him moments to freely enjoy himself as if upon a stage. He could berate, ignore and laugh as he pleased as there was no real opposition that he was forced to mind. This was not a national parliament, it was not a place where the democratic will of the people was carried out, it was a canvas for which Joshua could paint his vision of the nation here in the council chamber, declaring what had been declared several weeks ago. Those around him were actors, or at least they had been moulded into ones, as they had been cheated, cajoled, paid and blackmailed into being playthings.

This was not evil, it was necessary to prevent true opposition towards a man who had a vision, for what person would oppose those who hold a true vision for the nation instead focusing on their petty desire for money and status? Joshua would not dare allow such a menace to exist, for that would spell the true end to Noronnican power. It was he that knew how the nation should be run, and so he would do so, with or without the legitimate consent of a truthful and lawful democracy.

There was but one obstacle in his way and that was the monarchy. The Overlord held unchecked powers that meant that if the crown was held by someone with wilful conviction such as Tytus Alexander, then the powers of the Prime Minister were threatened. This is what truly angered Joshua, it was the fact that his position rested upon the powers of a monarchy centuries old. He was not traditional, and so he would not stand for something that would ruin his plans for the future in favour of the past.

It was with this thought that he had entered the Federal Assembly with his last speech before the passing of the most controversial bill in all of modern Noronnican history after the dissolution of Noronica by Francesca Peyter's totalitarian regime. Besides that fact, it had travelled through the Assembly fairly quickly, preventing Tytus from moving against him.

Joshua's grin widened, he knew Tytus, he was dangerous for certain, but he had lost the will of the people. Joshua was so sure of his popularity that it made no logical sense for him to be less popular. He had been proud in his propaganda machine, as it had been able to produce such a perfect modern and youthful breath of fresh air into governance, and it had proven extremely popular.

"And what of the Overlord's opinion? Have you consulted His Majesty over this matter?" Came the cry of Councillor Henry Tavenn, Leader of the Opposition.

Joshua smirked, "He is content. As much as there have been issues from recent news from anonymous sources, we both have moved past this and I believe we shall forge a much stronger relationship with this new bill, as does he. In fact, the bill will now be inside His Majesty's dispatch box, ready for our final vote."

Many of his supporters cried out in support and jeered at Tavenn, yet a clear scoff resounded around the room after the jeers had died down, catching Joshua off-guard. Unperturbed, Joshua sneered, "Despite some discontent," laughter emanated from his colleagues, "I feel that the majority of the House is with me when I say that the nation is ready for a change." Turning to the Speaker of the House, he nodded to confirm that he was ready for the vote.

The Speaker gave a firm yet troubled nod before announcing, "The House shall now be called into a vote. Seeing as this matter affects the nation's constitution so heavily, it has been declared that the house shall be casting physical votes rather than conveying oral support. Clear the lobbies."

The entire room seemed to burst into life as everyone stood from their seats and began to chat animatedly to their colleagues akin to excited school-children. Most knew what the result of the vote would be, but holding votes was an exciting moment for many councillors, especially newer and naive members.

However, those that were first to get to the doors of the chamber found that they could not open the doors. They were locked shut. Many of them turned to the Assembly guards, calling for them to act, but the two of them stood firm and silent.

"Open the doors!" Cried the Speaker of the House, to no avail. The guards would not budge despite the distress from those inside the chamber.

Joshua wrestled his way through his colleagues until he finally reached one of the guards, "What is the issue here? Have you not heard the demand? Open the bloody doors!"

To the relief of those inside, the guards finally sprung into action, reaching for the handles of the vast wooden doors. However, what was behind the doors made every councillor stop in their tracks and gasp.

"His Majesty, Overlord Tytus the First of Noronica, the Sessux Isle and his Dominions!" Blared the royal announcer, who burst through the doors first, clearing a path from the mass of councillors who stood awestruck as they watched the royal procession through the wooden doors.

Sure enough, Overlord Tytus marched into the chamber, his eyes set on the Speaker who squirmed in his seat. The room was now entirely silent, save for the sounds of Tytus' footsteps which echoed in the chamber. Every eye centered on Tytus as he ascended the central dais, sitting down on the Speaker's chair which had been vacated by the Speaker who had made himself as small as possible, shying away from the cameras now focusing on the Overlord.

The chamber's doors were slammed shut, and the councillors were invited to sit back down by the guards. Tytus waited for them to take their seats, relaxing into his chair yet maintaining an air of superiority, one which was felt by every councillor. His eyes found Joshua, who had taken to standing in the doorway, his fists tightly clenched.

When Tytus did speak, his voice carried across the room, "I am in this room, not as a monarch, but as a Noronnican. As a Noronnican I find myself aghast as I am faced with a mess before me. What I am faced with is a thinly-veiled excuse for a democracy, and I for one cannot stand for this abhorrent behaviour any longer. Through your petty arguing and power-grabbing, you demean the very nation you chose to represent, the nation that fought decades before to ensure that democracy may thrive. Where is my loyal opposition? I have none because there is none in this chamber. What was televised before me was a mass of scripted lies, and I cannot support this any further." Gasps and scoffs of anger were heard in the chamber, yet Tytus continued with growing gusto, "It is with this in mind that I, by my constitutional right, call for the dissolution of the Federal Assembly at once."

"You cannot!" Joshua blared, his eyes wide with hatred.

Tytus ignored him, turning to the Speaker, "Is it not my right to declare this?"

The Speaker nodded carefully, "I-it is within your right your Majesty."

Joshua, confident in him being the dominant power in the room, walked towards Tytus, his voice angry, "It is also written in constitutional law, that the monarch entering the chambers without express consent is illegal and could be considered an act of national treason."

Tytus retorted, "I am fully aware of that law, and yet I find that when the nation is in a dire need for change, I must act in this manner. The will of the people shall decide who is righteous in their actions."

[Almorea]

"Why is he 'The First" when he's the only one?" President Hallowell's dark eyes squinted at the newspaper, which had been picked up at random from the mess of reports and analysis on his desk.

General John Lord, the Director of Intelligence, who had been watching his boss as he read, answered "What?" in the kind of tone one would use with a child asking a nonsensical question.

Hallowell looked up, his brow furrowed. "Overlord Tytus. He's called Tytus I, but there's never been another Tytus." He flung the paper down and chuckled. "See, John, this is the kind of thing that bugs me." With his formidable historical mind, President Hallowell had always been annoyed when, say, a fantasy writer had numbered a monarch who was the first of their name. That doesn't happen, he would think, pointing to endless king-lists from other nations' distant pasts. It was the first time that the Director of Intelligence had learned of this particular idiosyncratic complaint.

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think that matters. Whatever number he has, he's gotten Noronica into a pretty pickle." Lord glanced at Kirk Thurson, the Secretary of State, who was sitting next to him. The two men faced the President's desk; the Executive Office was well-lit and the dark, rain-lashed windows stood out in sharp relief from the walls.

Thurson was about to say something, perhaps to offer support for Lord's suspicion of Tytus Alexander, when Hallowell interrupted him.

"Now, you say that, John, but I don't agree." He tapped his finger on his desk. "It was grand theater, but Tytus had to clean house sometime. In the two years I've been here that country's slid into a sham democracy. You know it, I know it, and they know it. The Prime Minister knows it, and I bet he'll be reminded of it all the way to his cell." He leaned back as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the swollen storm clouds. A police siren wailed on High Street and, in the far distance, a very loud man was hailing a taxi.

The Noronnican crisis had bestirred deeper, darker passions in President Hallowell, known only to himself- and perhaps then only half-known, and shied away from. As a Senator he had seen his predecessor, the wildly popular, swaggering blowhard known as Mitch Manners, stride confidently into a friendly Congress, his wrestler's muscles bulging out of his smooth suit, and bend the people's representatives to his will. Hallowell had longed to replace him, but now that he sat in Almorea's highest chair he was finding the presidential experience to be distinctly less pleasurable than he had hoped.

His heart had fluttered when he had turned on the television and seen Tytus march into the Federal Assembly, his glare- the glare that only one of God's anointed could possess- withering those who stood, shrunken, before him. Hallowell had been a constitutional lawyer in his private life. He knew the ins and outs of the sacred document, and the legal precedents around it, that bound him to a straight and narrow path of presidential propriety. Yet there was a feeling, a sentiment, in his heart of hearts that had lain dormant before Tytus had unwittingly awakened it. It was not expressed in words, but rather in a mental image; Hallowell could see himself opening the great paneled door to the Joint Chamber, he could see the Federalists go white, he could see himself sitting in the Deputy President's chair, he could see himself, backed up by guns, dismissing with a wave of his hand the other party, the conservatives who stymied his every move. How he hated them.

These thoughts did not swim into the President's stream of consciousness; they lurked instead in the deeper recesses of his mind. Outwardly, he remained politely focused on Secretary Thurson, who, he suddenly realized, was droning on in his nasal voice about optics.

"The optics are bad any way you slice it, Mr. President. We support the Overlord, we're supporting a dictator who seized power. We support McIntosh, we're supporting a dictator who lost power. We say nothing, and we get as much out of the civil war that's coming."

"Why doesn't he turn his tie around?" thought Hallowell to himself, noticing that Thurson's tie had been flipped during the day's diplomatic exertions. "Did he go to the press pool like that? Should I tell him?"

"So, Mr. President, I think that the best thing to do is to wait it out. Right before the shooting starts, you can intervene. We have to wait it out and see who comes out on top."

General Lord interjected, noticing Hallowell's glazed expression. "Are you listening, Mr. President?" Few were so blunt with their boss as the cherub-faced intelligence chief.

President Hallowell's eyes refocused. "Yeah, yeah. Wait for a breakthrough. I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I have to take a call at 8:00. Let's talk again on Sunday." With few words in response to this abrupt end to the meeting, Lord and Thurson looked at each other, stood up, and strode out.

Alone in the Executive Office, Hallowell glanced back at the newspaper. Casting his eyes over the panorama of the Federal Assembly, his attention was caught again by Tytus, relaxed in his chair, a wolf among venal and supercilious sheep.

There was only one man in Noronica, and there would only ever be one, that the President could support. Would Almorea stand behind his choice?

[Noronica]

State Palace, Nolon City

---

The entire palace was in disarray. Tables, chairs, lamps, glasses and other objects had been thrown about, smashed on the ageing stone floors through remorseless force. The cause of this stood with ragged breathing, messed clothing and a wild look in his eyes, Joshua McIntosh. Rage was pulsing through his veins, the pulse nagging at his impulses to create more violence in the room. A smashed glass on the ground, whiskey seeping from it into the cracks of the floor. It had been expensive, yet Joshua did not care.

Aides had long gone from the room, instead finding solace in the grounds outside the palace, despite the atrocious weather. The only one brave enough to remain had been the Chief of Staff, Malcolm, who watched with a stony-look in his eyes as he watched his Prime Minister descend into his infamous anger issues. He had only experienced one meltdown, and that was during one of the more trying moments of the Charbagnian War.

He supposed that there was something inherently cathartic in destruction, focusing one's energy in the pure annihilation of one's surroundings seemed to provide something for Joshua, and Malcolm could see that plain as day. However, it was obvious that this was definitely not healthy, especially seeing as every health check-up in recent weeks had concluded that the Prime Minister had extremely high blood pressure. How the man had survived in as backstabbing an organisation as the Bureau of Internal Security and rebuilding it after the war, Malcolm could not comprehend. Malcolm had heard that Joshua ran the organisation as his own personal fiefdom, but with the constant purging, he had created a sleek and efficient factory of cold-hearted law-enforcers.

Now, however, Joshua stood with his fists clenched, his eyes searching the ground for something more to hit. Malcolm could not help but step forward, tired of merely watching and needing to clear his legs of the growing pins and needles. "Sir?" He asked, slowly yet firmly to ensure Joshua had heard.

"What." Joshua snapped, whipping his head around to face his Chief of Staff. His eyes were blurry, yet he maintained a fierce glare that put even the Overlord to shame. Malcolm supposed that contrast was rather apt.

"As much as you are, quite rightly I must add," he said, his hands in the air as a sign of peace and understanding, "angry. I must impart some good news."

Joshua seemed to relax ever so slightly, keeping his air of a predator ready to pounce, yet letting Malcolm speak. Seeing this, Malcolm continued, "Six out of the twelve Supreme Court Justices have pledged their support when speaking in confidence to me. The others remain undecided. Our team has speculated that we stand to make two more turn to us soon."

Joshua slumped onto a chair close to him, "Why are they so split? Can they not read? The Constitution clearly does not state that the Overlord may dissol-"

Malcolm cut in, exasperated, "Yes sir, however, if we look at the amendments made under your administration there are several ways of exploiting them in favour of the Overlord. Anyway, the Overlord has always had the right to dissolve the Federal Assembly until our amendments, and the Supreme Court must decide whether these constitutional amendments allow for the Overlord's rights to be bypassed."

Joshua growled, "And thus our enemy maintains power. What about our suggestion that there may not be a succession if Tytus is forced to abdicate?"

Malcolm smiled, "That has been assured, all that needs is your consent. If we succeed in ousting the Overlord-"

"Tytus," Joshua abruptly said, "It does not do to give our enemy respect, for we are equals."

Malcolm continued, finding the new word and odd thing to speak, seeing as it was hardwired for every Noronnican to address the Overlord by his title, "T-Tytus, if we succeed in ousting Tytus, then the position of Overlord would be put into question seeing as its then previous owner caused this mess in the first place. The people would be mostly behind us. The only issue is Prince Trystan."

Joshua quirked an eyebrow, "What? Why? That is certainly a non-issue, he is a boy with titles granted to him by birth. He has no support base as far as we can tell, and he is mostly unknown."

"Yes, but that makes him extremely dangerous. He is an unknown factor in a Cold War that requires us to maintain superior intelligence to our opponents. Already, I hear of his success in being a 'perfect mayor', not my words, of the city. What is more alarming is the friendships the boy has with many of the Clan Laerds who are part of the influential aristo's of Noronica." Malcolm said, his voice conveying a sense of warning yet keen interest too, seeing as this was one figure he knew very little about.

"Invite the boy to the State Palace, then we can perhaps persuade him with the promise of granting him succession? He has been waiting his life for that moment, why not feed the hunger with promises?" Joshua said, his voice returning to its usual smoothness. He began to nod, springing from his chair to grab papers and a pen to begin writing his plans.

Malcolm sighed, the cleaners will have a fun day with this one.

[Iosnil]

Nirreleth Palace,Iosnil

“My agents in Noronica have been keeping an eye on the situation and all of my analysis’s seem to believe civil war is inevitable, we can’t simply ignore the signs.” Director Venios said looking up from the Map,” we all know what happened last time we did,we must act before it is too late” he added.
“I’m sorry Director but we can’t afford to be dragged into someone else’s War, we are still recovering from our own civil war how can we expect the people to support something so far from home?”Praetor Aenikh said nervously, talks of war always had this effect on him.

All eyes in the room turned on Queen Verona who had remained quite, she stood with her eyes closed as if she was playing every possible scenario in her head.she opened her eyes and the war room came into focus. She sighed softly, “I have no desire to see our armed forces fighting another war so soon but Iosnil must stand by her friends in times of adversity, you all know that it has been my families and this nations duty to offer help to those who need it” Queen Verona let her last few words sink in “ I will personally contact the Overlord to pledge our support, I want STaRS strike teams on immediate notice to move”

[Noronica]

Lancaston, Sessux Isle

---

Rodren sighed, carelessly throwing some pieces of bread in front of him. He watched from his bench as several ducks waddled up to the bread, pecking cautiously before fighting amongst each other to grab a piece. Rodren smirked slightly, the sight reminding him of the cause of his sour mood, his new-found separatist group which were all fighting amongst each other to put across their own visions. Most of all, there seemed to be a lot more at play between John and Natalya, both of whom merely watched the bouts between the members.

It annoyed Rodren that the cause was marred by petty squabbling and idiotic idealism, although he supposed that idealism was at the very heart of every revolutionary, making him some form of a mutant with his pessimism and cynicism. He could not help but feel pessimistic, as separatism had never been taken well in Noronica, what with the history of previous Sessux Isle independence attempts ending in extreme violence and prejudice. Rodren often pondered on the exact reason why he had joined the group in the first place, the answer was often a rather flimsy excuse. For most of his life, Rodren had viewed the division between mainlanders and Sessux islanders with confusion, wondering how two totally different cultures could co-exist with each other. It was not a sense of self-determination that he yearned for, more 'righting the balance' as he could not see these two cultures abiding with each other. Hell, if Athara Magarat had kept the Sessux Isle that would have made more sense, but the Sessux Isle was not Noronica.

"Duck! Daddy 'ook! Duck!" Came a cry from beside Rodren. Rodren recognised it as his four-year-old daughter, who began to giggle incessantly about the ducks in front of her. Rodren smiled sadly, it was not often that he could share moments like these with his daughter, especially as he was forced to keep his head under the radar whenever there was a meeting with his group. He tousled his daughter's hair affectionately, smiling at the happy reaction that got. It was cliché, but Rodren truly was envious of his daughter's naïveté, as ducks were far more important in her world than grand politics.

A shadow was cast over them, making Rodren turn to see what had interrupted their space. A young woman in her mid-twenties walked towards the bench, a radiant smile gracing her features. She wore a pristine suit, her arms swinging with precision as she walked towards him. Rodren was anxious to run, but the woman closed in on them swiftly.

"Rodren! How are you! I haven't seen you since-" The woman began, a look of genuine happiness on her face. Rodren scowled back but turned to his daughter to urge her to look at the ducks. It took little persuasion.

"What is it?" Rodren asked curtly, keeping his eyes on his daughter who had just found out that ducks don't take well to humans who don't carry bread.

"I am something of a messenger," the woman began, lowering her voice, "you see, Prefect Natalya Gaehern has been reaching out for political allies for the cause that you are both involved in. She has secured a key ally with some-"

Rodren cut in, rolling his eyes, "Sorry. How does this relate to me? The Prefect has secured some political friends, great. In the group, I am that nagging scrape of meat on the side of the plate that you leave until the last bite of the meal, not the leader."

The woman sat herself down in the seat, fixing Rodren with a glare. Her pleasant visage changed into an annoyed look, having not expected to be interrupted. She spoke softly, but with a cutting voice, "I ask that you listen first before the snide remarks." Seeing that Rodren was, albeit reluctantly, listening to her, she continued, "Good. This is not some random official that Natalya has under her thumb, but someone that approached her, and that someone happens to be very high up on the ladder. Can you imagine that? All your chums huddled around a dusty flag, supported by one of the biggies in Nolon." The last remark served as revenge for earlier, and Rodren was hurt by it, but he supposed it was fair.

"Who?" Rodren asked, finally interested in what the woman had to say.

"Ah. They spoke in confidence, but I am assured that you will find out soon enough. I can say that this figure concerns your recent tour in Charbagnia. Prefect Gaehern asked me to speak to you as you hold some sway over the group leader's decisions and there is a personal connection between you and the figure you served alongside in Charbagnia." The woman said, speaking excitedly.

Rodren nodded, "What if I choose not to support the Prefect's new friend?"

The woman grinned, pointing towards Rodren's daughter, "How much is her school fees?" When she saw Rodren look down at his feet, her smile widened, "Prefect Gaehern has offered to pay you for your support, perhaps she might help pay for your daughter's education? She has no children of her own, and to support such a noble cause as a child's education-"

"You bitch." Rodren growled under his breath, "This is not what I signed up for." When he looked to see the woman make to stand and walk away, he clasped his hand around her arm, "Wait. I hate that you are putting me in this situation, bu-but-"

The woman's warm smile returned, "I understand. Don't think of this as bribery, think of this as kindness. You aren't looking to buy a new car with this money, you are looking to support your struggling family, and that is a sign of a great father. So take the money and do this small favour to aid in your cause for the Isle and your daughter." With that, she moved away from Rodren's hold and walked off.

John, what the fuck have you gotten me into?

[Noronica]

Palais du Préfet, St. Recont, Arván

---

The scene was one of utter calm. The fire flared and crackled, its light dancing across the room in a smooth melody, while outside the wind whistled and moaned, the rain drumming gently against the glass. Two men sunk into their armchairs, with one of them blowing smoke from his pipe, allowing it to whisper around the room. The scene reflected that of the old empire, as two old men sat in their armchairs discussing their finances while dressed in their gowns. Perhaps these two were more modern, but they harkened back to that past. They were not friends, and yet they had a begrudging respect for each other, one which formed their odd alliance. The Overlord and his Prefect.

Lord Montague, Prefect of the Prefectorial State of Arván, was first to speak, lazily swirling his dram of whisky between his fingers, "I must say that rather ironically, the newspaper was right. You do seem to be enjoying yourself on a bit of a holiday." His voice held an edge of sarcasm to it, but it was meant in jest, he did not have need of angering his employer, nor did he want to.

Tytus replied, his loud voice echoing around the room, "Hah! You of all people know what I am doing here. I suppose you are right however, I would be lying if I said that this trip did not calm me. The capital has become swayed by rumours, naysayers and pretenders to power."

Lord Montague grinned, "Well I am happy and humbled that you chose me for your respite." He leant forward to stoke the fire, "You are correct, however, and you know well that I am prepared to aid."

Tytus smirked, his face lightly illuminated by the fire, making Lord Montague slightly uncomfortable, "I know I have your backing Montague, as it suits your purposes as well as mine." He held up his hand as Lord Montague tried to speak, "You would not be sitting in that chair if I did not know your aspirations to power, do not insult me with professions of adoration."

Lord Montague raised an eyebrow, settling back into his chair. He could not lie and say that Tytus did not command a presence, but he would not admit that Tytus was the only one that could make him unnerved. Speaking calmly, he moved past the topic, "Many apologies your Majesty. If I may, I have heard your entrance into the Federal Assembly caused quite the scare, my son told me how his colleagues were greatly stressed! McIntosh must have been fuming."

Tytus let out a rare unsettling grin, "It had the effect I had hoped. I fear it worked too well, as most assemblymen are behind McIntosh and his ilk. My alliances are outside of the Assembly."

Lord Montague leaned in, "Is this outcome how you wanted it?"

Tytus shook his head slightly, "I wanted further instability in my favour, and while I have successfully managed that, I did not realise that McIntosh had entirely kicked me from any move against the Assembly. His amendments to the constitution have changed the position I hold from being a constitutional monarch to a puppet." He sighed, "No matter, this shall be resolved some other way."

Lord Montague still had something else troubling his mind, "What about your son, Trystan, I have heard that he shall be visiting McIntosh. I do hope this is not a revelation for you?"

Tytus shook his head again taking a sip of his whisky as he did so, "No. I did not bargain for Trystan being invited to see McIntosh, but the boy is on my side." Tytus looked thoughtfully to the fire, "Although something does trouble me about Trystan. In his absence, he had formed an entirely new person, and he executes our plans with absolute efficiency. He plays the game too well."

"That, and hardly anyone knew him before his return to the capital." Lord Montague added, "His tour in Charbagnia, I'm told, proved very fruitful for him, especially with popularity in the Armed Forces. No longer a boy-prince."

Tytus sighed, and the two descended into silence. Trystan was a valuable asset, but one that Tytus did not want to over-involve. He knew he pushed the boy too hard, and Remona was angered for it. Mellisa was still in university, so she was a little less wise about the goings-on of the situation.

A memory of Trystan came to mind. It was the day that Trystan was first introduced to the crowds of people. They had been on the balcony during an event, and when the crowds roared in glee, Trystan was frightened beyond measure. Granted the boy was only four at the time, but he began to scream and cry with such ferocity that Mellisa joined him. The papers were kind, calling it 'stage-fright', but Trystan liked seeing people, it was the clasping his palms on his ears tightly that made Tytus suspicious. His suspicions were correct when this had been confirmed to be sensory issues by the doctors. Upon this discovery, Trystan had been tested for many things, and the results had come back positive for high-functioning autism. Remona had coddled Trystan then, seeing this as a weakness, but as the boy grew, it was clear that his mind was destined for greater purposes, so Tytus had pushed the boy hard on his studies.

Had he been a good father? It did not do well to question himself, but Tytus caught himself often thinking that when he saw his son in action. The boy was excellent, but Tytus was the only one that knew Trystan sometimes used earplugs in his speeches.

Broken out of his reverie, the door burst open to reveal the palace's Chief of Staff, "They are ready for you, your Majesty, your Excellency." Both men stood at this, discarding their whisky glasses before following the man.

He continued to talk to Tytus and Lord Montague as they walked, "You shall be in the presence of Brigadier Henry Huntingforth of the 31st Infantry Brigade, who have returned from their post in Charbagnia."

Tytus felt uncomfortable with making troops into rebels, but it was necessary for the greater good of Noronica, for the Western Isles, and he kept that to the forefront of his mind.

[Noronica]

Dining Room, State Palace, Nolon City

---

"He is here sir." Came the voice of Joshua's secretary, popping her head in swiftly.

Joshua smiled widely, "Let him in then." For one of the first times in this sordid affair, Joshua was immensely excited. Prince Trystan would prove to be a manner in which Joshua could make a break for victory. To aid in this mission, Joshua had pulled out all the stops in making this 'informal working lunch' full of splendour. The table was adorned with food and decorated with fineries, while the walls were given very cautious attention, with various paintings and banners draping the walls. The palace was no longer a dreary Noronnican stone castle from the Middle Ages, but a sign of prosperity and beauty. What was better to seduce a prince than luxury?

Prince Trystan walked through the doors dressed in a carefully pressed suit and a red tie. He was nicely groomed, much to Joshua's expectations, but what he had not bargained for was the keen gaze Trystan had, scanning the room with great interest. A sign of intelligence or naïvite? Joshua chose the latter for comfort.

Moving towards the Prince, Joshua held his hand outstretched to shake the Prince's, "Your Royal Highness, it is a most excellent pleasure to have you in the State Palace."

Trystan smiled graciously, obviously taking note of his tall height compared to Joshua, "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Prime Minister, from what I can see you have made a lot of effort in this event and I must thank you for it."

Joshua nodded proudly, "Indeed, the staff were very excited to hear of your attendance. Oh- and please, 'Joshua' would be most welcomed, I do not wish to be overly formal in our interactions."

"Hmm," Trystan said, frowning slightly, "I may do that, but I have to say I cannot ask for the same. It is only proper." He said, his face showing no sign of humour.

Joshua stalled slightly, "Ah...heh, I shall endeavour to remember this, your Highness." Joshua was surprised, he expected a modern hip Prince to be something of a rebel in terms of formality, and yet it seemed with Trystan he had guessed incorrectly. Joshua smirked, in his mind, it did prove his theory on Trystan being arrogant.

Trystan nodded, "Thank you, Joshua. Let us sit, we have a lot to discuss!" He said, finding his seat at the table. Joshua had meant to sit at the head of the table to maintain some semblance of control, but it seemed that Trystan had ensured his place there. Joshua followed suit, albeit rather reluctantly.

"How is your sister Mellisa?" Asked Joshua, attempting to keep the conversation light before they got into the meat of the discussion.

Trystan smiled, "My sister is doing very well in her studies. I hear some excellent things from her university. She is following a similar path to her father in that she is studying Law in the University of Gwynon." The smile dissipated swiftly, replaced instead by a frown, "However, that is not why you invited me."

Caught again, what does this boy have against small talk? Joshua thought to himself before putting on another smile, "Correct again your Highness! No, I wanted to discuss your father's recent... behaviour." He said, being careful to keep his mannerisms non-antagonistic or accusatory.

Trystan nodded, "Ah yes, the 'constitutional action that was not constitutional'?" Joshua could feel the edge on that comment, "I understand that you want this matter resolved through abdication?"

Joshua smiled thinly, "Yes. Your father has done something which he should not have done, which is to completely destabilise the country," he could not stop this now, "and this is something which I cannot abide."

Trystan was silent for a moment. Joshua feared that he had said the wrong thing, swiftly thinking of ways to escape this situation, but Trystan responded before he could, "I agree," he said, shocking Joshua, "His actions have caused destabilisation. However, what do you want me to do about that?" Trystan asked, gazing towards Joshua.

Joshua smiled, "Nothing. When the Supreme Court judges your father's actions illegal, he will be removed from his position and tried. However, you are aware of your position and I wish to ensure you know that you have a friend in me."

Trystan nodded again, "Of course, it would not do to be reckless in that position. I thank you for your assurances."

Joshua smiled, perfect, "Therefore you understand that there shall be a much stricter separation between the crown and state?"

Trystan smiled himself, looking directly into Joshua's eyes, "Oh but of course."

[Noronica]

State Palace, Nolon City

---

The room was filled with solemn and distraught faces. One thought permeated around the room, why was this happening now? Not even the many servants or bureaucrats in the palace could stop themselves but stand behind the assembled party and gaze dumbstruck at the screen of the television. At the centre of the room was Joshua, who sat on an armchair, his head in his hands which were shaking in barely-contained fury. His eyes, however, glared at the television, which was blaring out the sounds of anger and frustration, a tell-tale sign of a protest.

NMC News reporters remained silent as they allowed viewers to watch the mayhem on the streets of Lancaston, the capital city of the Sessux Isle. The scene was catastrophic, as thousands of people lined the streets angrily declaring their discontent, tearing the street apart with their ranting. It was the very definition of dissension in Joshua's eyes, and that is why his eyes were so filled with hatred, these monsters were pulling the nation further apart.

Malcolm, Joshua's Chief of Staff, coughed to garner the attention of the Prime Minister, who merely grunted in recognition. Rolling his eyes, Malcolm spoke bluntly, "Sir. We must take action now, lest we are seen to be weak in the face of further division in the country. With the Overl- Tytus," he still was not used to referring to his monarch by the first name, "in Arván and making no attempt to mend the relationship between him or yourself, you must take action now."

Joshua nodded, breaking himself out of his sulking, "If only this hadn't happened. Fuck!" He blurted out angrily, causing many in the room to jump slightly, "First port of call then, the police?"

Malcolm hissed as if his toe had been stubbed, wishing he had not been asked that question, "Prime Minister, the- the city police have mostly taken part in the protests. There are no riot-trained police forces in the rest of the island as the rest of the settlements are way too small."

"Alright, is it possible to contact the Prefect of the Isle?" Joshua asked, his voice lowering slightly.

Malcolm looked uncomfortable, "Her office has gone silent, she is at an event in the islands south of the Sessux Isle, 'promoting the local industry' there." Malcolm did not say anything further, as the implication was immediately understood.

Joshua scowled, "Fine. This is my country, I shall spearhead the efforts then. What about the Bureau, can we get a squad there in time?"

Malcolm shook his head, "The BIS' offices in Lancaston have been blocked by protestors, and the Prefect seemed to have taken a hefty chunk of the armed officers to form her protection detail. They would not be able to form proper riot lines." He said, pointing at the screen which showed an almost overrun BIS office.

Joshua scratched at the arms of his armchair, desperately hoping he could contain himself before everyone left the room. There was only one option left and Joshua was loath to use it, seeing as it would send a violent message to the protestors, "The army then. Get me in contact with Army Sergeant Major Cameron Campbell."

A phone was quickly brought to Joshua as it dialled the Campbell's office. To the Sergeant Major's credit, he responded swiftly, "Prime Minister."

Joshua spoke quickly, "Are there any units that are practised in crowd control that can reach the city of Lancaston ASAP?"

A sigh came down the other end of the phone and the sounds of rapid typing came through, "Erm... It would seem that your best bet would be... hmm. Many Lancastonian troops serve under the 31st Infantry Brigade, allowing them to provide a friendly yet stern face to the protests, sir."

Joshua traced the bulging vein in his forehead, "Is that my only option?"

Joshua could almost hear the reluctant nod on the other end of the phone, "I shall get in contact with them at once sir."

At that, the line ended. Joshua slumped into his chair and turned to smile at his wife in the hopes of getting some assurance from her at least. She did not return the smile, merely stared mouth agape at the television. Interested to see what caused such a reaction, Joshua turned to look at the television as well, only to be met by something he had feared.

Pictures of violence and looting were splashed across the screen as the protest in Lancaston had become a riot.

The phone rang, and Joshua could not have been fast enough to pick the phone back up, "Yes what is it?!"

"S-sir." Came the nervous response, "It would seem that the brigade is refusing to respond to my orders un-unless..."

Joshua spoke dangerously, "Unless. What."

"Th-the orders c-come direct from His Majesty sir." Campbell said, his voice breaking as he spoke.

Joshua gasped for air, turning to look at Malcolm with wild eyes. Can't breathe, he thought, his hands scraping for his collar as he began to shake.

Malcolm rushed over to the phone as servants attended the Prime Minister. He would have to make the decision. Checking his list of phone numbers from his personal phone, he dialled up the Prefect's office in Arván.

[Dormill and Stiura]

Sud Alban, Republiek Kapolder

---

The holiday season was in full swing in the United Republics, and with the National Congress no longer in session President Dyson had taken the time to go back home and relax. Unfortunately, relaxation would be the last thing he would deal with today as the news from Noronica and the Alteran Republics shows signs of an imminent collapse of the government. He was already accosted by most of the higher-ups in the diplomatic service with both states, leaving him an impression that he has to act soon before the complete collapse of either state.

"So what's our plan?" he begins, speaking on his secured phone.

"Well, sir. It's possible to assume that their is a conflict brewing between the Prime Minister of Noronica and his Overlord, what happened in Lancaston might portend to what will happen across Noronica." the voice responds, cold and professional, as is becoming standard of the President's personal informants in the Bureau. Director Lovel was granted a reprieve for her work with OVAST and the Orsandians throughout the Orsandian Civil War, but Dyson knew not to entirely trust her after her earlier stunts.

"Who can we stand with?" the President inquired, the idea of taking advantage of Noronica's situation was not a thought he wanted to entertain, but he was regardless compelled to do so as the President of Dormill and Stiura of all places, the one nation that has been the thorn at the Overlordship for well over a century at this point.

"I believe that our support can't be made on an ideological basis, we can't afford to be naive about this. If we stand with the Overlord, we can support the status quo of Noronica in exchange for stirring nationalists, we we all know would love to put us on a stake and be burnt for overtly supporting a monarchy. If we stand with McIntosh, we can make the ideological argument of supporting fellow Republicans, but we would risk kicking up the hornet's nest both with Noronica but Noronica's allies. That's not to include the rest of the Noronnican Empire that will also be shaken up by this entire thing."

"That sounds like we should be focusing on getting something out of all this?"

"Of course, Mr. President. I'm pretty sure you already know what to do with that."

With that, Dyson hangs up the call, but doesn't put the phone down quite yet, pondering who next to dial.

---

Nolon, Dormill-Stiuraian Embassy

---

Luther Van Buggenum, the mild-mannered and middle-aged Ambassador to Noronica has had an active few days, running back and forth across Nolon to figure out the situation and get a plan ready for the future. He knows all too well that a full blown conflict would ruin his businesses throughout Noronica.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Van Buggenum." his young voluptuous secretary began.

"Ma Fleur, good afternoon to you too. Anything come in while I was out?"

"Yes sir, a call from the Foreign Office, another call from Ile-de, and a correspondence from the Overlord, strangely enough." she responds, her distinct Nyssic accent permeating every other syllable.

"The Overlord? What does he want with me?" he responds, quite confused at any suggestion that the Overlord would want to speak with the Dormill-Stiuraian.

"He invited you to take audience at the Palace, sir. Congratulations!" she exclaims, giving the Ambassador a great hug just before handing the letter over to him.

After taking the letter, Van Buggenum takes a few moments to read over the letter before putting it down at his desk. Why the Overlord? What does he need?

[Iosnil]

Iosnilian Embassy

The Ambassadors office was brightly lit, the walls covered with pictures of Ambassador Nelohyr Telaando shaking hands with different nations leaders. Behind him hung two crossed flags, Iosnil on the left and Noronica to the right.

“Wait let me get this straight, the Queen wants to come here? This country is like a powder keg and she wants to Waltz in here with a grand show of Royal friendship showing support for the Overlord and you don’t think that will tick the Prime Minister off?” Nelohyr exclaimed.

“Her Royal Highness does not simply ‘waltz’ into anywhere, might I remind you that the Prime Minister would be foolish to snub a head of state” Elvorix retorted.

“But it’s foolish if she keeps poking her nose in every countries business she’s bound to go the way of her mother and father.. Night Maiden rest there souls” Elvorix face soured at the comment but Nelohyr continued “at least her uncle had the decorum to know he wants world police. She’s not Queen Liluth you know” the comment struck a nerve with Elvorix she slammed her hands on the desk that separated them, the thud startled ambassador but before he could act her face was inches way from his. “Hold your tongue or loose it Sir”.
Nelohyr composed himself, realising he overstepped the mark.

“Apologies madam Justiciar, but I must inside if her majesty wishes to proceed I might advise that she meets with the Prime Minister as well, she may be of royal blood but that will not stop an elected leader taking offence” his voiced trembled Elvorix nodded in acknowledgment and the calls went out.

[Noronica]

International Chambers, Royal Palace, Nolon City

---

Prince Trystan grunted as he tried to relax a trapped nerve near his neck. He placed his palm on the area and rolled it over as he flexed his head. Sighing as the tightness ebbed away, he felt himself relax. He had always been rather good at calming himself quickly, having an innate ability to slow his heart rate quickly. He supposed that this trick was rather useful in political situations, due to the fact that amidst all the excitement and first-times, he was able to relax and convey a sense of confidence within him, even if this was entirely false confidence. In fact, he could feel his fingers jittering slightly in nervousness.

Was it right what he was doing? His immediate defence mechanism flared, you are doing what is best for the country, for the greater good. One knew they were from his father's family when that thought maintained a permanent residence in one's head. Sighing, he recognised that he was uncomfortable with the situation. He did not care that he was lying as such, but what he was concerned about was the sheer amount of parties in this mess that he would have to please. He was already in the midst of a power struggle between his father and the Prime Minister, so to have foreign interests begin to circulate was a major concern. His next steps were going to be vital if he wished to secure Noronica's frontiers.

He walked towards his armchair and pressed his hand into the back of it, leaning his weight on it yet giving the impression that he was, in fact, standing straighter than usual. It seemed that this was the right move, as he heard the clicks of palace-staff heels on the polished floors.

The doors were thrown wide open and a man as stiff and tall as a pencil stood in the entrance. His voice was laced with a regional accent, yet it was mostly culled by the adoption of Received Pronunciation, "Your Royal Highness, may I present to you His Excellency, Luther Van Buggenum, Ambassador of the United Republics of Dormill and Stiura."

Trystan smiled widely, ensuring that the atmosphere was not in anyway aggressive or domineering. Yes, the two nations were often at loggerheads with each other, yet the situation in Noronica warranted a neutral and perhaps even friendly approach. Of course, the matter of strength remained important, but it would not do to attempt to try and show off at this stage. To accompany him in this task, he had taken to designing the placement of decorations himself, with the joint flags in the centre of the chairs and a coffee table adorned with several beverages and snacks popular in both nations.

"Your Excellency," he began, "it is most kind of you to accept our invitation." Seeing the slight look of discomfort, he opened his arms in a calming gesture, "I must apologise for the mix-up, the weather in St. Recont disallowed my father from flying." This was not entirely false, north Arván was experiencing some storms and there had been several flight delays, but the Overlord had no desire to leave Arván.

He smirked good-naturedly, "Therefore I am afraid you may have to put up with his son. I assure you that I am fully aware of everything my father wished to discuss. However, if you so choose, we could wait for a later date?" Trystan desperately needed this, and while he gave a calm expression, he was very much in favour of discussion.

[Dormill and Stiura]

Sud Alban, Republiek Kapolder

---

"The 4th, huh?", the President began, speaking with Minister Causey, "Three weeks?, sigh, Yes, that will be fine. I'll leave it to you to get them there, we don't want any slip-ups, And good day to you to sir".

"New Deployments, sir?", the photographer spoke up, the breaking of the rain provided for good shots of the President. It was also useful that the photographer was essentially a personal confidant to Dyson, one among a few people he could directly trust in Ile-de.

"That's right" Dyson began, "He wants to send the 4th Brigade down to Orsandia over the holiday to replace the units already there, it's also a modest reduction of the forces we have there so I doubt that Congress will be too angered when they decide to show back up. But I think the folks down there won't get much rest."

"What makes you say that?"

"Noronica, the Overlord is in Arván last I heard, reviewing troops. I think we have to get involved there again, and I doubt it'll go much better than the last time."

"Not that I know much of your policy, Mr. President. But with the Overlord away from his shiny palace, all the while his government is essentially rebelling against him, it might be a good time to remove him from the equation, and secure Arván."

Maybe the President thought, before picking up the phone again and dialing the Bureau.

---

International Chambers, Royal Palace, Nolon City

---

Van Buggenum was impressed by the scenery, as it was plenty removed from the more Francophone styles of both architecture and decor common in Courlaroux, but he did feel some similarities with the flag of the United Republics flanked by the Noronnican, the Prince closing his hands as the pair began to sit. "It's no problem, Uwe Majesteit. I suppose even if there wasn't a storm the Overlord himself would much rather deal with someone higher on the chain than me." he responded, stifling a nervous laugh and shaking hands with the Prince. "Whatever it is that you have to say, I want to hear it."

[Noronica]

International Chambers, Royal Palace, Nolon City

---

Trystan put on a kindly smile, his mind racing to think of the best approach. Leaning forward and putting on a slightly nervous voice, he replied, "Please Your Excellency, do not put yourself down so. In fact, this is a first for me seeing as you are the first foreign ambassador that I have spoken on such high authority with." That was most definitely not a lie, this was a first, but his mannerisms were created for the intention of trying to put the man at ease. Whether the ambassador was doing the same, Trystan would never know, but he would utilise any sign of nervousness he could. Besides, acting nervous came naturally to him as he was genuinely concerned about how this meeting would go.

Leaning back into his chair again, he sighed, "I am sure you are well aware of events taking place in Noronica, through your being an ambassador. Therefore I do not need to explain the, ah, delicate situation that the nation is in." Seeing a nod from the ambassador, Trystan continued, "Division is occurring and the nation is taking sides. Once the situation is resolved, Noronica shall return to its fullest potential but, it is inevitable that some parts shall change." Out with the old and in with the new, Trystan thought.

Trystan knew that the next part was going to be a rather difficult topic to broach, especially as he was going to have to alter the reality of the situation, "It is with sadness that I admit the relations of our two countries could be better, and while some would say 'c'est la vie', I would argue that we are no longer in the Twentieth Century, if you will excuse that overused millennial expression, and therefore I and my father wish to see an end to hostilities. Oh, and the Prime Minister of course. Despite having little rivalry elsewhere, there is one matter neither of our nations may iron out, and that is this."

With a theatrical flourish, he snatched a folded piece of paper on the table before the two men and swiftly unfolded it to reveal a map of a peninsula, on that both men knew very well of. Arván.

Trystan smiled, leaning forward carefully, "I have a... let's call it a hypothetical question. Let us say that the situation was resolved in Noronica, and one of the first moves of the new administration is to enter into discussions over the peninsula with Dormill and Stiura, what would the reaction of your nation's administration and indeed yourself be? No more theatrics, no more tanks on the border, but a newly printed document symbolising a new era of unity."

[Dormill and Stiura]

Arván, Van Buggenum thought in a stunned silence, is that what the Overlord wants?, he sighed heavily before beginning, thoughts of potential glory for solving the situation in that pesky peninsula, all the promotions he could get from that, all the way up to State Minister if he played his cards right. He would be set for the rest of his life, and he can even keep his mistress around for his political advantage, it seemed everything was about to go right for him, “W-w-well, what kinds of discussions are you suggesting? Are you suggesting that Dormill and Stiura’s Administration in Arván will be recognized? That's an extreme thing to suggest from the Prince of Noronica.”

[Noronica]

Trystan drew in forward ever-so-slightly, his hands clasping together as one would do when conducting a deal. He smiled, "As I said, this is purely hypothetical, but in essence, yes. Unfortunately, due to logistical issues and the time it would take to handover, of course accounting for the wishes of the people in northern Arván as well, I suggest something that has not been done before in our two nations' histories." The moment was designed to be theatrical, so he pulled a pair of scissors from his jacket pocket and with fluid precision, cut the map of Arván in half. To ruin the magic of the moment, he had carefully drawn a pre-planned pencil-marked line to ensure the exact area in which the split would be, but the ambassador did not need to know that.

With a smirk, Trystan passed the southern slice over to the ambassador, "I expect that this is the first time in a century that two nations have split a territory over a cup of fine Charbagnian tea, but with crisis comes radical change. If you would be so kind as to pass this message to your President, I believe it should be clear what the new administration would be prepared to do. Of course, we expect to enter into negotiations as soon as possible, so take this as a friendly proposition." He drew back in his chair, his face taking on a calm expression, "I suppose it goes without saying that this conversation shall remain confidential, we would not want other sources taking a hypothetical discussion as fact."

Quick thinking on his part gave him extra ammunition, "Of course, if we were to enter into such discussions into the near future, we would need to give our suggestion and consent over who becomes the overseer of this new part of Arván."

Behind Trystan's smile was a feeling of anger, he was giving away Noronnican territory to his country's old enemy. This damnable proposition better yield favourable results, he thought.

St. Recont, Northern Arván

---

It was akin to a game of chess, albeit one where the stakes were undoubtedly higher, and the opposing pieces were a chaotic rabble. Despite the chaos, Lord Montague had never felt so alive, flexing his mental prowess and skill as he gave orders to men and women left and right. The power of it all was intoxicating, and any lesser man would have shrunk from the responsibility of it all, yet he was no lesser man. He was the lord of these lands, and his word would affect even the deepest roots in the earth.

His thoughts turned to President Sartin, the corrupt bastard who had all but thrown this peninsula into the sodden mud, allowing a rotting and diseased culture of degradation sweep over the land. When Lord Montague took power, he inherited a state of mud and nurtured it into a state of strength, unity and virtue. His officers lined the streets, conveying the law, his law. This riot, this mess on the streets of both Albans were mere death-throws of the 'ancien régime' that would be stamped out.

The riot had begun the day before, with a vast group of rioters taking to the streets against Lord Montague, an act which greatly angered him as he grew tired of their petulance as a father would be with his toddlers. Call it an immense feat of arrogance, but Lord Montague would refuse to allow this situation to become more than what it is, to him it was a small issue.

"Sir!" Came a cry from behind him. Swivelling on his heels away from the desk where others were working on his orders, he caught sight of his senior army chief. Interested, he motioned for the woman to talk. She continued, slightly out-of-breath, "Sir, we have received reports that troops of the 2nd Kapolder Citizen's Guard are securing the borders of South Alban to wrestle control of the surrounding area."

So Noronica's old enemy moves, once again, too far north, Lord Montague thought. Leaning back against the desk, he pondered on the intelligence report. His own state troopers were in northern Alban already, much to the protest of Dormill and Stiura's administration there. He had been bombarded with calls from their offices, but he had only replied to the first, assuring that this was all in the name of quelling the rioting. However, that now put him in an extremely tricky situation as this 'Citizen's Guard' was right on his doorstep.

The senior army chief looked pressed for time, "Should I inform the Prime Minister, Mr. Prefect?"

Lord Montague smiled slightly. Neither the Prime Minister nor the Overlord had taken any position on the situation in Alban, leaving him in charge. A thought occurred to him, if he could be the one to negotiate with Dormill and Stiura, he would be recognised for his initiative. He could further his position as he had always desired, "No. We must advance our position."

Those that were not on a phone turned to gawk at him. The senior army chief spoke quietly, "Would that not be seen as a sign of aggression?"

"Of course it will, but it also affords me time to negotiate. Both our sides have similar numbers but our troops are well attuned to urban combat from 2017. Send units to line the border." Snapping his fingers, he shouted to the mass of people in the room, "Someone get me on the phone to President Dyson."

Before his army chief left the room, Lord Montague left one last message, "One last thing, I do believe you forgot my official title granted to me for my military service." He smirked, "It is not 'mister', but Lord Prefect."

[Dormill and Stiura]

Palace of the President, Presidential Office, Courlaroux

P: So you mean to tell me those riots I saw on the news yesterday, the ones that forced me from my own home, were instigated by her?

President Dyson typed in an exasperated sigh, the events of the previous day forced him to return to the Palace to handle the situation, something he clearly had no desire for at the moment.

A: Yes sir. The report will be on your desk in a few hours detailing the operation. Stirring up some of the populace in either city was simple enough, after that we stood back and let everybody else handle the situation.
P: By "handle" did you happen to also include the sudden amounts of Noronnican troops that were trying to flood over the border into Lieruneux?
A: All part of the plan, sir.

Cedar sighed again, he particularly hated when the Bureau acted alone, yes it left him with healthy amounts of plausible deniability but in exchange for marring the legacy of his administration with conspiracy theories, Shattering the trust of the people in this government is not what I should be doing here he angrily thought to himself, rapidly typing out his last reply before ending the chat.

P: I expect that report in my office by noon, Agent. And get me a meeting with her again.
A: Of course, sir.
-CHAT ENDED-

Cedar Dyson sat back in his chair, rubbing his slightly-less-than-young face, stubbles of hair harm the otherwise good look he had maintained as a result of the quick electric shave he managed to do before leaving from Sud Alban.

A ring of the phone breaks the silence of the office, followed by all the typical noises associated with still using a landline phone. "Mr. President.", the new voice began, a strong French accent gave away the kind of man Dyson would have to deal with for the next few moments, "Governor Klerkse, I hope you have some good news for me.", attempts at hiding his general annoyance were going to fail for sure, but he didn't necessarily care about it at the time, "I do, Mr. Dyson. The 2nd Guards has pacified the rioting in South Alban, but we have been stuck in a stalemate with Noronnican forces ever since. They're just standing there, as my men say it.", the Governor's age was unique among most of his peers, not to mention his experience, Governor Tuur Klerkse was the last Burgemeester of the Free City, and was promptly elected Governor following reunification. This granted him the unique status of the only Dormill-Stiuraian to have ruled over a sovereign state and a Republic in their lifetime, his advanced age also made him the least liked out of the current, exceptionally younger, administration.

Cedar sighed again before continuing, "How long will it be before you can demobilize your forces?", "You want me to demobilize now?! With those detestable Noronnicans just standing there?!", the blasting of the Governor's voice did not mix well with the phone, causing a feedback that forced the President to briefly withdraw before continuing, "I'd really rather not want to become responsible for causing a ruckus in my hometown, Mr. Governor; nor do I really want to federalize the troops in your command, but I will if it means to prevent an outright invasion by Noronica.", slowly building up his voice in the process, clearly displaying his youth and willingness to come to blows over the situation; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that there was another call on hold What next, the Prefect himself? he laughed silently. Left stammering for a moment, seeking a response that would save his image, the Governor conceded, "I can have them ready to leave the city in a few hours, Mr. President. Is that all?". A content and dominant smile on his face, Dyson thanked the Governor for his time, and made no further requests from him before ending the call, and picking up the one on hold.

---

"Oh, Good Morning, Mr. President." Ambassador Van Buggenum began, flustered and a bit out of breath for some unknown reason, "I'm glad you got my call."

"Considering my staff left you on hold for the last few minutes, I'm more surprised you hadn't just left me a message." the President responded, mildly glad to hear the voice of the Ambassador to Noronica, awaiting what must inevitably be good news.

"This is too important to have left a message for you Mr. President." he quickly breathed out before gasping for more air, "Get this. The Prince of Noronica wants to negotiate a partition of Arván!"

"Come again?"

"The Prince of Noronica had offered a few days ago to partition Arván between us, in a hypothetical sense."

"A few days ago? What in the hell have you been doing in all that time?!" he started under his breath, What does he mean by "hypothetical"?, shaking his head back into reality, Dyson continued, "I don't understand what you mean. Slow down, tell me the whole story."

"Okay. So, I was called to the Overlord's Palace last week, to discuss something of some great importance with the Overlord himself, or at least that's what the letter told me. Turns out Prince Trystan was there instead, all the more excited to see me. After some pleasantries and catching up on recent events, and yes I can confirm that there is a deep power struggle in Noronica's leadership between the Overlord and the Prime Minister, he presented me with a hypothetical question, something like 'one of the first moves of the new administration is to enter into discussions over the peninsula with Dormill and Stiura, what would the reaction of your nation's administration?'"

"New Administration? Is he suggesting removing the Prime Minister?"

"You know, now that I think about it, I should have pressed him more on it, but the importance of Arván was too good to pass up."

"Do you have any idea what playing ball with the Prince would look like? We'd be abandoning our Republican roots and spitting in the face of the Noronnican democratic process by even considering working with the Overlord. Especially when 'working' just to happens to also mean 'plan a damn coup."

"But Mr. President. Think about it. You can be the man that gave the United Republics Arván. No other President in history, not even Favre, was able to win control of the peninsula. And here is a golden opportunity right here, offered by the Prince himself, with the Overlord's backing."

Just before the President could begin again, he saw yet another new light, another new call on hold. But this time, his secretary came knocking on the door as well.

"Sir, the one on hold is the Prefect of Arván, he wants to talk to you directly." he said quickly, holding open the door and stepping halfway through.

"We'll have to wrap this up later. Just know I am not amused by both your tardiness or your willingness to countermand my administration by considering this.", Dyson said coldly to the Ambassador before picking up the new call.

---

"Lord Prefect. This is an unexpected surprise. Is there something you want to discuss? Maybe you can start by getting your troops off of the border." he said, his anger beginning to simmer.

[Noronica]

Lord Montague smiled calmly, watching as the others around the desk were whispering to each other in worried tones. He had expected an angry president, he merely hoped that the situation could be calmed as he had planned. Taking on a very soothing diplomatic tone, he spoke into the receiver, "Mister President, it is a pleasure to speak with you on the phone at last. I believe that this would be the first time that such an occasion has occurred, and to my mind, letting this be the only time I speak with you is a crime in itself." The false platitudes were out of the way, and with the annoyed sigh almost breathing in his ear, Lord Montague continued.

"I can only apologise over this... aggression between our two sides, it is all part of standard protocol as you might imagine." He flicked his hand to motion for everyone to leave the room. This order was reluctantly followed, but Lord Montague waited until everyone was out of the room. His next move was going to be utterly insane, but it was necessary, "Mister President, I was in full control of my troops in the city of Alban, and they were to remain there for the duration of the rioting. However, I was made aware of new orders coming straight from Nolon, and I could do nothing about it." He was convincing because this is how he usually felt, undermined by his 'betters', "The Prime Minister as you most likely read in the papers, desired confrontation, whereas I, I merely wish to relax this situation."

"Arván," he said, "Is a project I have worked on for a long year, and I do not wish it to be tarnished by these wanton rioters. However, my people and I also grow weary of the cooled relations between Noronica and Dormill and Stiura, and therefore it is my wish that perhaps you and I may enter into a much more favourable relationship. I would be very willing to order my troops off of the border, and I hope that it goes without saying that this discussion might continue afterwards?" Lord Montague thought that he was in control, he thought that he was going to finally solve the issue once and for all, but his lust for power was making him ever blinder.