1912-1990 Era War IC (Semi-Closed)

[The Manticoran Empire]

Welcome to the 20th Century, specifically 1921 in our absolutely insane universe where armies number in the tens of millions and small wars lasting only a few months kill hundreds of thousands. It has been about 6 months since the end of The Nine Year War between the world’s two main alliances: The Western League and the Alliance of Republican Nations. After nine years of war, more than 82 million have died and the world is trying to heal and rebuild.

It is into this war torn world that you, nations both old and new, are thrust. Despite the loss of life, there has been no closure, for the issues which caused The Nine Year War have not been resolved. Dark clouds of war hover on the horizon and omens appear, heralding the deaths of millions more sometime soon. How soon, however, is up to you. Will the world experience a period of peace or will this be but a brief respite, the eye of the storm so to speak?

If you have any question, feel free to ask me or Arengin Union. Also, join our Discord Server Here: https://discord.gg/CHXBNFJ

OOC Thread

Simple Rules of the IC involve no godmodding, no meta-gaming, no OOC banter or discussion, no one liner posts. All posts should be at least 1 paragraph in length. Beyond that, enjoy.

[The Twelve Isles]

Empress Bella Cartwine

Bella hiked up her collar and sniffed, smoothing her hair down in the mirror. She felt tired, and she looked it, and as she looked at herself in the mirror she couldn't help but feel her age. Age came with its perks, such as confidence and wisdom, but there were certainly expenses that went with it. Bella sighed, adjusting her coat and turning to face Guard Captain Thomas. He stood like a rock, like he always had, and Bella marveled at his relative health. He was even older than she was, and yet her still stood like a monolith in his sharp green uniform. He would need to retire one day, but today was not that day. Though Bella worried about him, he wouldn't be able to keep going like this forever, and part of her felt that he probably was of little use anymore as the Guard Captain. His mind was sharp as a knife, but she could see the chinks in his armor, and his limp grew worse every day.

"Do you know where my son is?" said Bella as she strode past him, leaving the dressing room and heading to the hall. Thomas turned and followed closely, a step behind and too the right. It was supposed to be two steps, but Bella cared little, her and Thomas were too good of friends to be hanging onto tradition so closely.

"Probably in the basement," said Thomas. "Boxing, I would assume, with Billy."

"He better not be," said Bella. "Billy is much to old for that shit."

"He's only a few years older than you," said Thomas.

Bella scoffed, and looked back over her shoulder at her body guard. "Thomas, that may have meant something when I was a young woman and he was merely an upstart officer, but we're old now. Age catches up to the rest of us, even if you are untouchable by it."

"I feel like you're suggesting I take my health for granted," said Thomas.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting." Bella grinned some, and turned her head back down the hall. Her sword bounced against her leg, and the thought of her son boxing reminded her of fencing. Combat sports were a tradition in the Isles, everyone and their mother was a boxer or a fencer of involved in some sort of contact sport. And Bella was a rather good fencer.

Prince Alexander Cartwine
Imperial Marshal Billy Younger

The glove popped as it hit Alexanders face, and he heard Billy's laughter from across the room mixed with the giggles of his sister. He grimaced as he faced Rollin the gruff soldier, and ground his teeth together as he pushed himself off of the ropes. "You keep blocking like that an there isn't a chance in the world North Mournly Military Academy will take you," said Billy.

"Fuck off old man," said Alexander, lowering himself back into a fighting stance. Billy laughed again, and Alexander squinted his eyes. "Alright Rollin," he said to his opponent, "lets dance."

Rollin swung at Alexander, and he raised his hands to block. Rollin jabbed and attacked, pummeling Alexanders arms as he stepped back under the onslaught, waiting for his chance. He knew that Rollin always had lots of stamina at the start of a fight, but overexerted himself and became worn out halfway through the first round every time. All Alexander had too do was survive that, which was the real challenge. Though Rollin had no self control, he could hit like a train, and Alexander's head still felt like a rock after that last hit.

Rollin swung again in a big right hook, and Alexander took his chance. He raised his left arm to block to blow, and shot his right out at Rollins face. Rollin turned his head to avoid being hit in the nose, but it was too late to avoid the punch. Alexander grinned in triumph as his fist connected, snapping Rollins head back and stumbling him. Alexander pressed the advantage and swung again, forcing Rollin to protect his head before he went in for his body. He punched Rollin twice in the gut, before the other man swung down and hit Alexander in the skull.

"Fuck," slurred Alexander, trying to get his footing under him again as Rollin attacked. But it was too late, he had acted too fast and hadnt let Rollin wear himself out. And now, Alexander was feeling the consequences of that choice. His defenses were gone, and before he knew what was happening Rollin swung with so much force that it was like Alexander had been hit in the chest with a meteor. He was picked up off of his feet and fell hard onto the mat, and Alexander could hear Billy and his sister, Sasha, laughing at him uproariously. His head hurt, and he had to fight not to drool after that last punch.

Above him, Rollin stripped his gloves off and reached his hand down to help Alexander up. "You fought well Prince Alexander," he said as Alexander took his hand.

"Thank you," said Alexander, and Rollin grinned.

"Come on down sometime after this meeting is completed," said Rollin. "Im sure the other boys in the guard would like to take you on sometime as well."

"I might," said Alexander, taking his own gloves off.

"Yeah, and you might get trounced again," said Billy from where he sat. He had a bottle of brandy with him, and he was passing it back and forth with Sasha. Alexander threw his glove at Billy, taking his shirt and jacket off from where they hung on a post.

"I wish I had never met you," said Alexander.

"Fat chance of that son," said Billy. "I'm the best damn military man this country has ever seen, and you really think that you, the Crown Prince, would never meet me?"

Alexander didnt respond, only put his shirt on over his shoulders and buttoned it up. Billy stood and walked besides Alexander as they left the basement. Alexanders face hurt, and he knew he would have a black eye. Next to him Billy stuck his hands into his pockets, and produced a pipe and a bag of tobacco as they walked. He pushed tobacco into it and stuck the pipe into his mouth, lighting it as he walked and waving out the match. Alexander glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but said nothing.

"So," said Billy. "You are trying to go to North Mournly right?"

"That I am," said Alexander.

"Yeah, if he ever decides to stop being so brooding all the time and look respectable for once," said Sasha, running up behind Billy and Alexander. Alexander glanced at his sister through tired eyes. The two of them couldn't have been much more different if they tried. Alexander was about as Cartwine as it got, tall dark and as brooding as could be, whereas Sasha had the blonde hair and fiery personality of an Arenginian Cossack. Which seemed fitting, considering their father was of Arenginian stock.

"I think he can do it," said Billy. "Even if he wasn't the Empresses son, he could get in. Alexander is smart, and he has much more drive than you do."

"Who needs drive when you're the daughter of an Empress?" said Sasha. "Especially when you're the daughter of the Empress of the Twelve Isles. We have oil and a powerful military, no one is going to hold me back even if I do sit around and drink all day."

"One day you're going to get fat doing that," said Alexander.

Sasha scoffed at him, her boots clicking on the ground as she took long strides. "Maybe, but at least I'll have had more fun doing it than you will ruling a world power and getting pushed around at a Military Academy."

"How did you do it Billy," said Alexander. "You always give some canned answer whenever I ask, but what did you really do to get where you are?"

"I got lucky is what I did," said Billy. "I went to war, and just ended up in the right experiment, that's all."

"And you lead the Free Isles Army," said Sasha.

"Yes, I suppose I did," said Billy. "But even then, I only was in a position to do so because of luck. And now look at me, I spend my days in the Imperial Palace, surrounded by all the wealth and splendor of our Empire."

[Rannoria]

Rannoria Defeated

January, 1912
Rannoria was once a proud country. Now, it has nothing. Only 30 years ago was it a beacon of democracy, a power known and respected by and around the world. Lead by the great Sios Adance, Rannoria colonised, industrialised, and militarised, and prepared itself for great deeds. Then, tragedy approached. In 1894, Sios was involved in an accident and was proclaimed dead the next morning at age 56. A public funeral was held, and his motto, "Through time and time, love shall unify" was engraved on his tomb. His final words were dedicated to his friends, his nation, and an unknown lover.

With Sios' death came an election. Vernon Askwell, Sios' closest advisor and one of his closest friends, was elected. Although he was not terrible, his reign wasn't notable, and so it was no surprise when he was elected out of office in the election of 1900. That's when Henrique Havenoff entered the stage. A man of legendary charisma, Henrique held many connections and was of wealthy status. Once a governor of Lubezyk, many believed that his political experience and ability would benefit Rannoria for the better. They were wrong.

Henrique Havenoff was a greedy man. Not for money, though, but for power. From the beginning of his first term, he sought out to solidify his power and become dictator of Rannoria. This would be a herculean task if it weren't for the Great War in 1902. Rannoria fought for the Alliance of Republican Nations, and so already it had made two enemies on its borders. Its ancient rival, Wargloria, and a dominant naval power, Aclus. Sios' rule had managed to mend relations between these two nations and Rannoria, and the Arisluian Entente was proof of the Aclusian-Rannorian friendship, but now Rannoria has made two enemies due to circumstance.

Although Rannoria's land forces were less disciplined than the Warglorians, and their naval forces less developed than the Aclusians, they had am advantage. A strong defense. In his reign, Sios created the Greatest Defense, a series of trenches and defenses along the Rannorian-Warglorian border that would protect Rannoria from a Warglorian invasion. He had also developed a good naval defense, with coastal guns lining the Rannorian coast. This way, Rannoria would be relatively safe if war were to beset them on both sides. Unfortunately, Henrique would change that.

Upon the declaration of the war, Henrique declared a state of emergency. Through this, much of Rannoria's democratic processes were to be skipped as the Grand would have to send in orders that needed to be performed immediately. He also began working on the military, and after a year of stalemates and border skirmishes, be effectively became commander in chief of the Rannorian armed forces, able to override any general's orders. His first order was to send troops to the Rannorian colonies. This was a bad idea, as his advisors told him to hold the mainland. Then, he began ordering assaults on Warglorians, which was also a bad idea. Then, his greatest erro, and the downfall of Rannoria, was the invasion of Aclus. Everyone disagreed with him, but with many people and soldiers loyal to him, no one objected. Thousands of lives were lost in that invasion, and much of the Rannorian navy was sunk.

After many blunders, the unthinkable happened. Through a co-ordinated assault, the Warglorians and the Aclusians broke through. This was a culmination of Henrique's military errors, as the Warglorians broke through the now understaffed Greatest Defense, and the Aclusians established a beach head due to the weakened Rannorian navy. It only got worse from there.

Henrique fires all military officials as a High Order, and personally assumed control of each troop in Rannoria. As the invaders pushed closer to Rannkradle, he continued ordering foolish assaults. Finally, a military official who spoke out against Henrique, Vail Adance, stepped in. He gathered whatever forces he could that were not loyal to Henrique, and began to battle both Henrique and the invaders. He may have been smart, but numbers and equipment determined his loss. At this point, the bulk of the Rannorian army were untrained countrymen willing to fight. Many professionals were either wounded, dead, or stranded in the colonies. Vehicles were being destroyed, artillery pieces were broken, and everyday the invaders just kept on getting closer. Civilian fighters, armed with either guns or sharp swords or tools, charged at the invaders, but the effort was futile. Many of these fighters did not follow Vail nor Henrique, and so all they could do was pester the enemy. Cities were shelled due to armies hiding out in them, and Rannoria began to break. Then peace was signed.

In 1908, Rannoria left the war. Only a few kilometres from Rannkradle, Henrique was forced to surrender as many had grown distrustful of him. He was deposed by the Aclusians and Warglorians, and for three years Rannoria lived under military occupation, barely able to rebuild. Then, in 1911, real peace was signed. The Great War lasted for 9 years, and in the end, there was no clear victor. Victory may have graced the western league, but what is the purpose of victory when so many souls were lost?

After the war, the Aclusians and Warglorians stayed in Rannoria to help set up the government. A temporary post-war government was formed, and for 6 months they remained. Henrique Havenoff attempted to wrest control, but he was shot by Rannorian soldiers on his way to Rannkradle. Then, on December 25th, Vail Adance marched to the capital with the defeated military and the people's support at his side. There, he began to negotiate the elections. It was decided that the Aclusians would hold the elections, and that the votes would be announced by them. The system of governors was temporarily forgotten, and Rannoria held an election where each citizen held one vote.

Rannoria by now is on its knees. It has just lost a war, and its military is weak. Its industry is hindered by the artillery that rang through Rannorian air. The people, once proud, now weep at the bodies of the ones they have lost. But Rannoria has not been destroyed. Its spirit is unbreakable, and despite these especially hard times, the people know that they will recover. In the end, they have one thing, and that is each other. This new century may have begun terribly, with a man who became a dictator, and a once proud nation humbled, but with this the Rannorians learn. They will rebuild, and when they do, the spirit of Rannoria will echo through the ages!

It is January 1912. A new year. Vail Adance comes out of his small apartment in Rannkradle to talk to the Aclusian and Warglorian representative about their leave. Once the elections are held, they are no longer obliged to stay. As he walks on the streets, men and women look at him. Some find him to be of great status already. Such a young man, with him being 31 years old and already leading an army, coming to negotiate Rannoria's freedom. Others look at him with disgust. How could he tolerate these foreigners to stay in Rannoria for so long? Especially Warglorians! Whatever they think of him, he pays them no attention. Finally, he arrives at his destination, Zee Prlmnt. He opens its great doors and sees that the Warglorian and the Aclusian representatives are already there. He takes a deep breath and exhales. This could be a new start for Rannoria. A country left in ruin, could it get any worse? He has a lot to live up to. Although he is thought to be a bastard child, and he may have never met his father in person, he still has the blood of one of Rannoria's greatest leaders. He'll need much skill to live up to the legacy of Sios Adance.

[Aclus]

Aclus Reborn

City of Loxdon,
Imperial Palace
January 1912

Aclus was anew, the nation received so much land in the terms of colonies and resources, the world was ours. The Aclusian Navy took the brunt of the work for the nation during the great 9 years of war, causing the greatest explosion of industry the Aclusian people ever witnessed. But on this day, Aclus was remembering the fallen, those that did not come home, at night the whole Empire by letting hundreds of beacons lighted by candles fly out to the sky, each for a man who gave his life for the Empire, for the Western league, for his own people.

With the end of this war, came the rise of the empire, Continents like Indianum and Zeeland were colonized, and absorbed into the empire, even the dead nation Of Teknorepublika, an old friend of the Aclusians. 1906 saw the occupation of the Rannorian people, ultimately claiming victory in 1908 when the Rannorians capitulated, an amazing start to the century for the Empire. However so amazing, it brought another mountain of stress to the Aging King, the once young and lively George Frederick Albert, now has his grey hairs visible, as well as the beard of his father.

King George V was not the most fun at parties, but he was a loved and respected man. He always returned on his favors and promises, and was all so kind to the people. Though shaped from his childhood as always trying to impress his father, he was an Excellent soldier, serving in the Carribean war and the Reclamation war for the isles. He was stern and tall, strong and healthy, yet age could show chinks in his once impenetrable armor.

Sitting on his throne he looked out to the streets of Loxdon, the massive capital city of Aclus, the jewel of the empire was here, modern and full of life, everything felt at peace, knowing the Navy kept the seas of the world in check, and the army protecting the borders. Just then George's adviser Carl Visor walked in with a message.

"Your excellency, the Representative of the crown in Rannoria is on the phone" Visor said

"Thank you Carl" George picked up the phone to hear Representative John Shelby on the phone.

Rannoria,
Zee Prlmnt Building
Representative John Shelby

"Yes your excellency, I will do so, thank you for your time" John Hung the phone back it's place, god it felt amazing to have technology like this, unlike the old days where he would have to wait for mail.

John got his cup of coffee and took a deep breath after paying the Barista of the cafe next door, not everyday you sit down to discuss a countries future with a potential leader, as an ex soldier, or mostly Logistics officer of the Aclusian Army, it was a job only the most low ranked could dream of. He drank down the cup of coffee and walked outside, he then took out a tin container of cigarettes and a match to which he lit and started to smoke.

Aclusian Security forces would always march up and down the streets of the city, taking guard in alleys, public works, and even the streets. Armored cars roamed the streets in case of any scumbag willing enough to shoot his ideals of freedom out of a rifle, and John being a representative of the crown, this made him a high value target as much as the damn king himself. After the smoke, John as well as his 2 Body guards walked back down to the Zee Prlmnt, inside he took a seat next to the Warglorian official and waited.

"Quite a day huh mate" John told the Warglorian to which he nodded.

as right then a car of a fancy sort pulled up to the building, the great doors of it opening up to a man of a remarkable figure, this was General Vail Adance, the last to surrender to Aclusian rule, but also the man who saved the Rannorian people from total destruction under the rule of the dictator Henrique. Vail sat across from John and the Warglorian official. Ready to talk business.

"Let's hear what you have to say about Rannoria's future" John said sternly, to open the conversation.

[Eodor]

Eodor, 1912

Throughout history, Eodor had many a hardship: everything from out of control murderous cults to political instability and royalist greed. But, even through all of this, Eodor has held firm. An unshakeable barrier that even the most powerful of waves are helpless against. First, it was the Royals, the unifiers of Eodor, they who had ensured that peace and freedom could be achieved in Eodor at last; next, it was the republicans, the democrats and those who saw the underlying corruption in the feudal system; and last, but not least, the Communists: those who peeled back all the layers and realised that Eodor would not be free until the yoke of capitalist oppression was removed.

However, Eodor has yet to face a hardship as titanic as the one it had just years earlier. For the Eodorian government, that rules over seemingly vast swathes of land, is one born of exile and failure. Eodor's native lands lie countless miles away, stolen by a foreign government Eodor's government is forever bound to protect; Eodor's people lie either under the iron fist of a foreigner or in free cities far from their old homes. Yet Eodor stands strong, as it will do forevermore.

Port of Davargrad, Eodor

"Відкрити контейнер," the guard's voice brokered no argument, but it was his uniform that forced the seaman to act. His fellow held a rifle, low but ready, further coercing action from the civilian. The previous week, he had been stopped by Redcaps: the armed paramilitaries of the now technically exiled and technically illegal Communist Party, now it was Deathheads: Royalist secret police. There had been three communists shot dead in the street just yesterday, prompting his captain to hurry along their shipment. For all Eodor's strengths, even the strongest of patriots felt the need to flee. 1911 had been a turbulent year, with Eodor threatening on more than one occasion to fall into anarchy. The nation, however improbably, had managed to crawl its way out of 1911, thanks in part to the new Queen.

The seaman nodded, opening the container and stepping back to allow the armed men a good look inside. All they were carrying was grain, the guards signing off and wishing them a safe voyage. For all their faults, at least they were polite.

Utranovsk, Eodorian Capital

Queen Lusithima Victoria of Eodor, only child of King Allex III, was angry. Not in the sense most others would consider anger, even the most furious of men looked mild in comparison to her at that moment. So angry her personal bodyguards had erected a makeshift defensive line from stacks of paper and desks, in a inevitably failed attempt to shield themselves from her projectile wrath. Office objects shattered against the barricades, ink ran down the walls like blood and, in the centre of it all, stood the Queen, red of face.

"I cannot," she ranted to the cowering soldiers, "and I will not allow this man as Lord Regent. It is clear he seeks nothing but the abolition of the very cornerstone of this country! He is to be removed!"

She spoke, of course, of Viktor Schulz, the leader of the Nationalist bloc in Parliament. Schulz's entire party platform revolved around "Eodorian Sovereignity," an idea that effectively involved removing non-Eodorians from positions of power and leaving the Western League. The Queen had quickly reminded him of his place, that of her loyal servant, to which he had gone to parliament to ask their opinion on the matter. He had gotten a slim majority, only 51%, but it was a majority none the less. He was to be elected Lord Regent, second only to the Queen herself, within a day, something Lusithima could not allow.

And so she had put in her phone calls, called her favours and rallied her most loyal bodyguards. Once calmed of her rage she and her entourage marched on the parliament building. The gothic spires of parliament could be seen all over Utranovsk, the Eodorian flag flying high on each one. Strangely, however, only the gargoyles and lions guarding the gates bore witness to the Queen and her group.

Their actions were swift, some may even consider brutal, but overall they were just. Schulz was arrested along with his most loyal supporters, the rest of the MPs who voted for him intimidated to vote for the Queen's preferred candidate: Isambard Sharpe. There would be stability in Eodor, and most were more than happy to sacrifice parliamentary democracy to achieve it.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Vicuna Naval Shipyard
January 1912
Catherine stood under the umbrella held by her husband, gazing out at the workmen as clambered up and down scaffolding and guided massive panels of steel into place, all the while trying to keep as dry as possible in the driving rain. Arising from the drydock, towering almost 200 feet in the air, was the hull of HMS Vicuna, the first of the Vicuna class super dreadnoughts. Catherine smiled inwardly as she thought about the title, recalling just how understating that was. The Vicunas were set to be the largest warships ever built in human history. 300 meters long, 33 meters in beam, and armed with fifteen 18-inch guns, the 80,000 ton ships would be able to survive fire from any ship in any nation's line of battle and kill any ship in any nation's line of battle. The Navy was already of the opinion to design all future ships with 18-inch guns, including the far less impressive Jericho class super dreadnoughts. At a mere 43,000 tons displacement and 100 meters shorter than the Vicuna, the HMS Jericho, being constructed simultaneously about three slips down, would be armed with a dozen of the same 18-inch guns on the Vicuna, intended for a single, devastating purpose: the total destruction of the enemy's line of battle.
"Astonishing, isn't she, Your Majesty?" Catherine turned to face the gruff, new voice and found its owner. Grand Admiral Kevin Nakagawa stood to her left, holding his own umbrella and looking not at her, but at the immense hull rising from the drydock. "She certainly is, Kevin. I look forward to her commissioning." Kevin Nakagawa's Oriental eyes twinkled with delight, though, if Catherine was honest with herself, he always had a twinkle of delight in those soft, brown eyes. "I can promise you this, Your Majesty. She'll be an imposing site. We are set to lay down her sister a week from now and the third ship thirteen months after that."
"That's excellent news, Kevin. However, battleships wasn't my purpose for calling you here." Nakagawa nodded. "Of course not, Your Majesty. I assume that your reason for calling me here is in regards to your desire to begin the gradual enlistment of the nation's women into the service as part of them gaining suffrage." Catherine nodded. "I thought so," Nakagawa said. "If I may speak frankly, Your Majesty, I have reservations. Giving them the right to vote and enforcing all the duties and responsibilities that go with that vote may be par for the course but I must admit that I see a number of risks with putting women aboard ships. Not only will it require redesigning crew quarters to provide the women with adequate privacy but there is always the birds and the bees that must be considered." Catherine nodded. Nakagawa had a point. Men and women would always have that habit of getting together and pursuing romantic and sexual relationships. And she could especially see the danger of a woman becoming pregnant aboard a warship on deployment. "I agree with you, Admiral. Which is why I am not going to authorize placing women into combat units or aboard warships. We are going to have a hard enough time just authorizing them to enlist. Attempting to convince everyone to accept women in combat units or placing them on warships is just asking for trouble that we just aren't ready for at this point in time. I'm not one of those extreme feminists, demanding immediate change. People don't like change, especially not rapid change. If we want these reforms to work, and I personally want them to work, then they must be done gradually. I can only hope that the history books will look back upon us with admiration and not condemnation." Nakagawa looked her in the eyes and said, "I can agree with you on that one, Your Majesty."

[Norcourt]

Reformation and Reclamation

January 1st, 1912
Norcourt, under the rule of Alistair Caneius, had been rather unaffected by the mainland wars. Caneius rose to power after the Crisis of The 1890s, in which the Communist Followers of Euphronious (also known as: The Covenant) plundered Norcourt into Civil War, from 1893 to 1899. Millions had died in the ensuing conflicts, prompting Norcourt to fall into near-anarchy in the early 1900s.

In 1901, Alistair Caneius a former Major in the Norcourtian Army, had took power, inspiring the people to join and form his new nationalist regime. The economy had risen up, and under the command of Alistair Caneius, the dead rose that was Norcourt, had begun to sprout yet again, and thus he was held beloved by his nation and his people. Norcourt had risen from the ashes and dust, that was the aftermath of civil war, only to once again become a leading power in the world.

However it came at a moral price, the remaining communists and Covenant Followers spread throughout Norcourt, were hunted down and sent to their deaths in firing squads. This brought upon a hatred of Communists, and some even questioned their Elixian faith, as many members of the Covenant were indeed former Elixian Council members, themselves.

Nonetheless, Caneius had managed to rebuild his nation in the Caneius Reforms, alongside that was the total reformation of the military. The standard issue uniform of the Norcourtian Army, was very much improved, adopting a field gray camo, and new Germanic-Inspired Steel Helmets for extra head protection against shrapnel and whatnot. Further development of the Norcourtian service rifles, including the older Bannerman-Crofts, and the newer Gevar M1916 series of Semi-Auto rifles continued. Development of the older M1896 Vergaus Machine Guns had also furthered, and prototype models of the soon to be Model 1914s were in the works. The Submachine-Gun, had played a vital role in the trenches of the 9 Years War, and Norcourt was looking to adopt one for their own nation, with prototype models already being developed in the Vergaus Armory.

Since Norcourt was unaffected in the 9 Years War, remaining neutral for it's entirety, The Norcourtian Military had spent it's time recovering from the Civil War very well, spending money in Tank Design, Airplane Design, Combat Tactics, Doctrine Study, and the rearmament of all troops of the Republic. The massive Norcourtian Military had grown very much in the past 13 years, and was undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with.

Harbrook, Norcourt
House Caneius, 7:30 PM



Alistair stood silently on the 4th Story Overlook of his chateau, admiring the countryside of the Norcourtian East, watching the rich rivers of Harbrook flow, and the strong winds push the evergreen trees that stand tall. He was enjoying a cup of coffee, while at the same time a cigarette, a Newport Menthol. Alistair had spent many nights this way, he enjoyed the simpler things of life,

"Ali! Come inside dear! Supper is ready!" yelled his wife Luna, as she began cutting multiple cuts of meatloaf, duck, and other Norcourtian dishes. Alistair put out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray, and threw it down the overlook aiming towards a nearby tin trash bin near the front entrance of the chateau. As he walked inside the thump of his boots, creaked the wooden floor beneath him. In the dining room was a long feasting table, and above them were the elaborate golden chandeliers that had lit up the room, revealing his guests. On the other side of the table, stood a figure of average stature, but the spirit of that of a lion. Upon Caneius' eye was an eye patch, and what had protruded from the border was a massive scar, complimentary to the wrinkles, scars, and marks of stress, surrounding the man's face. He observed at the man, and the menacing yet somewhat gentle nature of his face and eyes, studying the man at the very end of the room.

"Warmaster Eadricing, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Have a seat, we have much to discuss..."

[Ruskland-Preuben]

The Warmaster's Visit

Picture of Warmaster Alto P. Eadricing, 1911

A man was smoking within a car, with the unevenly tinted, dark windows opened slightly as to allow the fumes to exit the vehicle. As for what he was smoking, it was a dark brown cigar manufactured in the colonies of Norcourt, and its shape was akin to that of a torpedo. He had been on the road for a while, and since then the cigar he held in his hand was barely half the length of it. Leaning slightly on the left side of the car, he tossed his cigar through the window upon finishing it, and just a few minutes later, the vehicle had arrived at their destination, House Caneius. He checked his wrist as the car began driving through the gates of the house's gardens, it showed 7:29, just a minute and a few seconds early for the meeting, perfect. By the time he looked up, the car had stopped in front of the mansion.

Stepping out of the car, he thanked the driver for the ride and quickly strode towards the double doors, knocking on them twice. The wooden entryway was then opened by a servant, and he also thanked the man for kindly opening the door for him. Then the servant beckoned him to follow the man throughout the house and towards the doorway of what was undoubtedly, a dining room. A quick glance towards his watch, 7:30, perfect timing. A man was already at the table, his host, Alistair Caneius. He was a man of average stature, but his spirit was strong. On his right eye, an eye patch, and protruding from it, scars. The various marks of a working man complimented his face nicely, and Alistair looked like a charming fellow in spite of his war scars. The man's eyes seemed to brighten up at the Warmaster's appearance, and he began speaking, "Warmaster Eadricing, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Have a seat, we have much to discuss!" he told him.

Alto nodded his head slightly, "And as to you, Grand Lord Caneius." he replied to him, and after that, he quickly seated himself. "Hmm, where to begin?" he muttered loudly, then he continued, "I know, let us enjoy the feast you have prepared for your guest first, then we shall begin on our discussions?" he suggested to his host.

---

Fading

Bronze busts of Iohannes II (left) and Crown Prince Lothar (right)

The coughs of an old man reverberated throughout the maze-like halls of Palas Fomalhaut, and the pacing of a man's foot could also be heard faintly. Then the shouts of the old man interspersed with violent coughing, "I want to see my son!". Followed by the reassuring voice of a nurse, calming the old man down to grumbling. Then the opening of a door signaled by the creaking of hinges and the sound of a bell tinkling lightly. It appears that the man pacing outside needed to come in to calm the old man down. The old and young man were Emperor Iohannes II mn Suesani and his son, Prince Lothar. The former was currently suffering a severe case of pneumonia, and it appeared that he wouldn't be recovering soon. Already was the Emperor seeing his parents in flashes just before he fell asleep, waking him up with a jolt.

"Son," began the old man and father lying down on the bed, looking towards his son who stood next to him, "Many try to deny it, and a few might even welcome it, but the fact is," he hesitated slightly, "I am dying.". He then looked away, a small smile on his face, a smile that showed that he was content, content with what he did, with his nation, his family, himself. Sure, the nation was brought to ruins due to his rule, and yet he was the one that brought it out of those dark times, every reform made, every opposing person taken care of, it all resulted in this, a bright dawn, for his nation and its future, which would be entrusted in his eldest soon. The response his son gave was a mere nod, but it was a sincere one.

"Maybe I was wrong in siding with the Morvernians? Perhaps. Or the Bronze Islanders, again, maybe." he started again, coughing at the end of that sentence, then he looked back at his son once more, "But let me remind you, son, that these faults, are my own, not yours.". He coughed twice, hard, "Do not agonize over them when you become Emperor, don't let them bring you down," he then stood up slightly, "What you need to focus on, is the now, the nation, and your family.". He then stood up fully. "My son, my firstborn, I wish to see the sunset outside," he told him with a smile, "Come, bring this old man a wheelchair now, would you?". Lothar quickly complied, and brought him a wheelchair and helped his father sit upon it.

Driving his father to a nearby balcony, they were greeted by the beautiful sight that was sunset, then his father spoke once more, "A beautiful sight, isn't it?" he spoke softly, his voice hoarse from coughing. He then looked at his firstborn child, "Yes, the sun may set on me now, son," he began, "But the nation will survive the night, and you will bring in the dawn for it.". "Promise me my son, promise me that you will not betray your fatherland.". And when his son told him he promised not to, he gazed more into the sunset.

"A, beautiful, sight... Indeed." he closed his eyes, and upon closing them, a whole era had passed away to make room for the new. Lothar drove the wheelchair to the worried nurse, then to his siblings, throughout the day, to his father's vassals, whom he had summoned. His father was dead, his siblings didn't want his throne, father raised them like that, not to mention the Imperial elections. He was the only one, and thus won by default.

The Emperor is dead, long live the Emperor.

[Rannoria]

A Move for Freedom

Vail Adance took a deep breath and exhaled. This was it. Vail was negotiating for the future of Rannoria, and although the Aclusians and Warglorians were no longer obliged to stay, their military presence was still on the Rannorian people's conscience. Vail found it interesting that out of all the Rannorians that lived at his time, he was the one to be here.

Vail never found himself to be a great man. For a man known as the Saviour of Rannoria at his time and age, he certainly didn't feel like it. His father, the great Sios Adance, already set a precedent for how his reign should be: great. But how could he live up to his father's legacy if he was disadvantaged at every point in his life. He had never met Sios, and was the son of a low-class woman who loved him dearly but had to get the help of others to pay for his schooling. He may have been smart, and that's what got him into the academy, but he didn't have much else. He wasn't a great orator, nor was he a great diplomat. He may have been a general and lead the forces of Rannoria to freedom, but only circumstance had brought him there. He wasn't even an official general under Henrique's rule. There was no one else who openly protested against Henrique's faults, and so he took it upon himself to do so. And now there he was, about to discuss the future of Rannoria.

He took on a plain face and a plain tone. He surely did not like the Warglorians or the Aclusians, but he had to act at least cordially in order to not anger them. After all, who were they to like the Rannorians? He prepared himself for whatever questions that may come, and collected his thoughts. He decided to go for a simple opener.

"Thomas Shelby, I suppose. A pleasure to meet you." He also addressed the Warglorian representative. "Now, straight to the topic. Of course, Rannoria seeks to be free and independent. It will have its own government, and preferably it would like to host its next election this year, as it technically has no ruler as of currently. It has been three and a half years since the military occupation of Rannoria, and so to begin officially rebuilding would be desirable, for both people and country. Finally, the evacuation of the Aclusian and Warglorian troops would be desirable. Asides from the damage from the war, the Aclusians and Warglorians should have no presence in Rannoria. The war is over, and so what is in the past should remain in the past."

Vail paused after that. That sounded like all that was needed, and it seemed like they were logical demands. After all, there was no treaty stating that Aclus and Wargloria had official control over Rannoria. He decided to add something quickly at the end, though. "Since Rannoria technically has no government, maybe it would be good that the Aclusians host the next election. It would be a direct election, where each citizen holds one vote, and perhaps the Aclusians would like to announce the results with the provisional government that is in place. Once a leader is chosen, the Aclusians and Warglorians would be obliged to leave." Vail stopped there. Hopefully that would be good.

[Norcourt]

A Pool of Blood

Harbrook Norcourt
House Caneius

"Very well..." Caneius replied to Alto

"We shall eat." He said. Caneius reached over to grab the plate prepared by his wife. A platter of Beef Brisket, Mashed Potatoes, and Beef Liver. he took his knife and began cutting the brisket it vertically into nine equal individual bite sized pieces of meat.

"You see Alto, an empire can fall apart within a very small amount of time. Yes, of course it may not seem as though much has changed, but day by day, month by month, year by year, they grow divisive, through war, death, rape, massacre, and terror, these empires fall into economic and civil crisis . As was the case for the nations of the Great War. I'm sure you understand Alto, for your very nation endured such troubles."
said Caneius, he paused to open a bottle of wine and poured it into both of their glasses, the dark red wine spilled smoothly into the glass, as though it were a pool of blood.

"The nations remaining in the world, are not as strong as they used to be, and are bound together by alliance, thus making their weaknesses...well, not that weak. I propose an alliance between our two nations, an alliance uncorrupted by the foreign barbarians and influences of the Western League, an Imperial pact between our nations, as we share common beliefs. As of now, I am confident enough, however not ignorantly nor underestimatingly, concluding that I believe, that Norcourt, and the Ruskland, has the power and opportunity to become the leading nations of the world..."

[Arengin Union]

---

St. Osloverg, the Arengin Union

---

The war was finally over, it was a new year, a year which many Arenginians never thought would begin with such a sorrowful and tragic outlook. Millions of caskets coming home from the fronts, the colonies of Afrikaa having been evacuated and left behind for the Rannorian and Traansvalian hordes and now thousands of homeless Arenginians arriving to the homeland, the navy losing so many of their ships, the Halium protectorate taken over by the Norcourtians and the Manticorans, the economy having taken a toll like all the rest. This surely didn't feel like a full victory, more like the demonstration of something bigger and badder yet to come. Yet despite all of this there was also optimism and happiness within the pains of war, soldiers coming home to their wives and future brides, the Manticorans having seen more losses at sea and the Traansvalians and Rusklands being kicked back into near submission.

King Nikolai IV now had a wounded nation to lead, the once jewel of the West having to rebuild from the destruction of the war. The King had his councilors, military commanders, and other entourage around the round table of the Consevaya. Nikolai with his hands crossed and on his chin sat back on his chair, overlooking the map of the world with figures representing Arenginian and allied as well as enemy forces scattered through the map.

"As you can see your majesty, we have a vast number of troops gathered around the borders with the Traansval as well as Ruskland. The Tubuska is still well operational and will deter any possible attacks. Our remaining naval assets in the Nuwe Afrikaan sea as well as the Colonies remains vigilant for any possible Manticoran activities." General Karantirov said as he pointed to the areas of interest in the map.

"What is the shape of the navy as it currently stands Minister Gennadiyevich?" Minister of the Interior Kostomarov Larion who stood besides the King asked.

Minister of War General Zhivenkov Korney Gennadiyevich, the war hero of the Morvern War set himself forward of his seat as he considered the situation. "At it stands we currently have the edge of less casualties than the Manticorans, our navies of the North West remained largely unscathed as they blockaded the Rusklands while our navies of the Khartoum and the Deruhm saw minimal casulties when facing the Rannorians and the Traasnval. As you can see our Aclusian allies were of much help when defeating their forces." The General then paused as he gathered himself to go onto the next less positive topic.

"However, our naval assets in the Nuwe sea saw less than spectacular gains in the beginning of the war, the Manticorans were able to push us back in 1902. Luckily we were able to keep their navies at bay from nearing Arenginian coasts. Without any dreadnought support the 6th and 9th fleets were destroyed back when the Manticorans began their assault in New Reyvan and the 10th fleet had to retreat to Vladburg and was almost decimated there. Had it not been for the Aclusians it is likely our navies of the east would've been destroyed..." The general paused again, the King seemed less than content about the subject. "I suggest a total rebuild which focuses on rearming our fleet with more powerful and updated smaller craft for defense of our heavier ships."

"Thank you, general." Nikolai said with a humble and low tone. The general simply nodded.

Nikolai rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, "What about the economic status of the country?" He then said.

Minister of Industry Gribanov Agafon and of Finance Nikita I. Nikolayevich looked at each other with a mix of favorable but also cautious expressions. Nikolayevich opened up several ledgers and documents while Agafon then answered for the two. "Well your majesty... with the losses of Halium, Alefum and Maelstrum the diamond and sulfur industry saw a decrease in production of 15 percent which will lower our output for the incoming couple of years. The overall war also cost the country several billions in rupples, but the banks will recuperate and with some taxation fees as well as using some of the gold reserves we can pay off the debts quickly."

"I advise tax reductions in the incoming years in order to alleviate the economic downpour for the citizens." Nikolayevich added.

"Overall, we should focus in encouraging more industrial work and eventually we can see an improvement in the economy. At the very least we should be doing better than the Manticorans and the Traansvals. New mines in Nuwe Afrikaa should see us subsidizing losses and maybe even improving the output." Agafon finished, an optimistic smile on the minister's face alleviated Nikolai to some extent.

Minister of the People Silvestrov Jaroslav Alesnarovich then intervened, "Reconstruction of Nuwe Afrikaan colonies should be a priority, as well as the housing of those that lost their homes in Alefum and Maelstrum. Much of the inner landscape that was occupied was left destroyed and we should focus on giving the people hope for the future."

Nikolai looked down on the map, then up to Alesnarovich "Agreed." The other ministers and commanders nodded as they kept quiet for the King to get his bearings.

Nikolai stood from his seat, his overall stature similar to that of his father, conviction and determination in his eyes. "We must bring Arengin back to its glory. We must bring this broken world back to what it once was. We shall focus in the economy and modernizing, just like my father did. I also want to make sure we are ready for any future conflicts, for now we must have all the reservists go back home since the war is over, but we must remain vigilant. The Manticorans and Rusklands are deceitful but they are not idiotic, for the next years they will not dare to attack, so we must prepare." Everyone nodded.

"This is a new Era, we will not falter. We have never falter and we shall rise to face the new world!" Nikolai's word echoed within everyone, words of a leader who all in the kingdom trusted and they knew that despite discomforts and concerns he would never leave them in the ground. Still uncertainty and even dissent and contempt garnered within some. It would be a time of strife and uncertainty for all.

[Breyburg]

Breyburg

January, 1912

Alfred Woods, the recently re-elected president of the Socialist Allied States of Breyburg, takes a long and blissful look out of the window of his presidential office. A hard snow is falling in the capital of Stegas. This was not unusual for the hard and seemingly abnormally long winter months.
"A Manticorian Ambassador has brought the AORN treaty." a newsbringer tells Alfred. The AORN (the Alliance of Republican Nations) is a group of nations who aimed to always be on the defensive, or be on the offensive given the right reason. It ensures all of the member nations safety in numbers.
"Bring him in." Alfred told the news bringer.
“Sir, are you totally sure with this action?” Eugen Snyder, the Secretary of Foreign Policy said.
“Eugene, there has never been a moment in my presidency where I wasn’t sure about something. This is for the betterment of our people. If and when we join the AORN we will have allies, something that we have never had before.”
“I understand this, but what if the AORN or some member nation gets power hungry and invades all of its allies? We don’t want that kind of friends.” Eugene warned.
“I have faith in AORN. We will be along with Manticore, the Twelve Isles, Rannoria… Very powerful nations. I do not care what you think. If we become engaged in a war, at least we won’t be going down alone.”
“I should have never taken this job.” Eugene regretted.
Eugene stormed out of the room, slamming the office doors open.
Minutes later a knock comes from the doors.
“Sir, the Manticorian ambassador is here.”
“Bring him in!” Alfred said.
The office doors creaked open and a man in a suit and tie was in the doorway.
“Hello, Keith, long time no see?” Alfred welcomingly said to Keith Burns, the Manticorian ambassador to the ASB, as they shook hands.
Keith reached into his bag and pulled out a document. It had the AORN symbol adorned on the front page. He handed the document to Alfred.
“This is the treaty, all previous signers will convene 10 years from now to discuss what will be added and/or removed. From what I understand, you will not be in power 10 years from now, so you will not be there. Make sure you read through its entirety.”
Alfred gazed at the iconic symbol on it’s cover. He flipped the page. The AORN treaty has 13 articles. He sat down at his desk engulfed by the contents of the treaty. Alfred grabbed a pen on his desk and thoughtfully scrawled his signature onto the blank space underneath the text. He handed the document to Eugene and stood up. Eugene inspected the treaty. He put it away in his bag.
“Welcome to the Alliance of Republican Nations, Alfred, it’s a pleasure to have you with us.” They shook hands. It was official, the SASB was now part of the AORN.
-
That day a telegram was wired to the Stegas. It was from the Overculture Federation. A neighboring nation to the east. They asked if Breyburg wanted an oil pipeline connecting the two. Eugene and Alfred debated for hours. Eugene debated that if we accepted the proposal it would set us up to be dependent on other nations. Alfred debated that Breyburg doesn’t have very many natural resources. It may have a large workforce it didn’t have much resources.
After hours and hours of debating, Alfred prevailed. A telegram was wired back to the Overculture Federation stating that Breyburg would take the oil pipeline.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Houses of Parliament
Vicuna
3 February 1912

Walter Brown, the Fourth Earl of Florence, sat in his chair, listening to the Earl of Harley Brook drone on and on about the Naval expenditure. "Milords, the Naval Expenditures are unnecessary, wholly and without question. The Arengin fleet is defeated. The Aclusians are facing rebellion. The Isles are not even a threat. Why must we continue to sustain a full 5% of our GDP being poured into the military when there is no war to fight?" Brown rose from his chair as Earl Harley Brook paused. A gavel rapped against wood and the Speaker called out, "The floor recognizes the Earl of Florence." Brown bowed slightly to the Speaker and walked to the floor, speaking as he went. "Milords, Earl Harley Brook raises a point that can only be made from a position of ignorance. A position that is unique to the Whigs, in fact, ignoring the clear facts of the global situation." Brown reached the floor amid jeers from the small number of Whigs in the Lords, jeers answered by the Conservatives behind him. He ignored them, starting once again, "The facts, so eloquently ignored by Earl Harley Brook, are these. The Aclusian Navy maintains a 10% advantage in capital ship hulls over our own fleet. The Twelve Isles fleet maintains 79% our strength in hulls, putting the Western League at more than 53% percent MORE hulls than our fleet can manage. Their building programs also out pace our own and all of this is without considering the Arenginian fleet. The Western League further has more than three times our population and intelligence reports suggest that they are earnestly rebuilding their forces. Another war is coming, Milords. I don't know when and I don't know how but I know it is coming."
"AND HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT, MILORD?" shouted Harley Brook, his face white with rage. "I was First Sea Lord and First Lord of the Admiralty during the War, Milord. I am quite familiar with the global situation. The last war was caused by a number of factors, including territorial disputes and military build ups in colonial regions. None of the factors which caused the last war were resolved. The territorial disputes remain and the military concentrations haven't moved. It is not a question of If another war begins, Milords, but WHEN another war begins. Our fleet is our strength and we MUST ensure its qualitative edge at the very least. The most ideal solution would be to achieve quantitative parity combined with qualitative superiority but the Navy has told me they will settle for better ships alone."
The gathered lords murmured among themselves and Brown looked Earl Harley Brook, recognizing the look of embarrassed rage on the Earl's face. "Relax, Harley Brook. Next time, actually support your arguments before you make them."

[The Twelve Isles]

The Empire Of The Twelve Isles
Townhill, Mournly Isle
Royal Cabinet Meeting

"With all do respect Billy, what all Im saying is that we need to work with our allies more. We flipped flopped in the Nine Years War from one side to another, barely committed any soldiers though we said we would, and sent to delegates to the peace meetings. Considering the time, and considering that we were still recovering from the Reclamation it makes sense, but now as a result there is little faith left for us in the world. The Colonies feel abandoned, especially the native population who continues to be exploited by their Islesish masters even in this modern world, and the rest of the world sees the situation with the Inquisitors and religious extremism here in the Home Isles as a sign of our weakness."

Billy sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Asa was, though an excellent diplomat, never able to speak in any way someone could call concise, a fact that bothered Billy in more ways than one. "Sure," said Billy with a sigh, looking up at Asa Hargrave with tired eyes, "but what is it that your point is?"

"My point is, William, that your proposal for higher spending for the military, and the Army in particular, will be counterproductive for our current political position. We have one of the largest navies in the word that we have spent the last three decades rebuilding from. Our military is large once more, and now it is time to focus internally. Our enemies can no longer take advantage of our weakness, we need to now work on repairing relations with our allies."

"But you seem to misunderstand the military situation of the world and our country right now," said Billy. He leaned forward on the table, resting his arms on the corner and fixing Asa with an intent look." Not only is our Air Corp greatly out of date and much smaller than many of our enemies, but if the tensions with the Inquisitors and the government were the spill over into open conflict, we would have to deploy the Army to bring peace."

"Yes, but if we continue to work on re-initiating trade deals, alliances and so on our economy would stablize, and a more stable nation leads to a more stable populace."

Billy opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by the sound of the Empress inhaling. He looked over to Bella, noting the look of frustration in her eyes. "Enough of this," she said, looking between Billy and Asa. "You both make excellent points, but Im afraid I see feel Asa's points are more concise and clear. Billy, you will get a quarter of the funding you are requesting, which I am going to ask that you allocate to the. Colonial Forces The rest of it is going to go to the Interior and Politico. Mr Serrimack, you may do with your half of the funding what you feel is best, but Asa Im going to ask you put the most work in here. You need to visit our allies, Aclus and Arengin in particular. Arengin has always been one of our strongest allies, and Aclus now controls one of the world largest navies. If we increase our ties with them, we will make it much harder for anyone to assail us. Now, Brianna, do you have anything to show for the work you have been putting in with the military, especially in manufacturing?"

Billy glanced to his left as the waiters entered the room. They came laden with plates and platters, and diligently placed them in front of the gathered Royal Cabinet. One came in last, carrying a large silver platter which he placed delicately in front of Bella, whisking off the cover and revealing a plate of greens and meat. It looked delicious, and Billy felt his mouth watering as he looked at it. Bella thanked the waiter with a slight smile as the Royal Cabinet tucked in napkins and poured wine and bourbon. Bella sipped her own bourbon, before looking back at the waiter with a questioning look, as the young man hadn't moved a muscle.

"Is there something wrong?" she said.

The waiter, looked around himself nervously but with determination, and gulped. The room had gone quiet, and the waiters had stopped when they saw three of their colleagues hadn't left with them, like they knew something the rest of them didn't. Thomas moved from his position by the door and placed his hand on the young mans shoulder, and Billy watched as the waiters hand went under his apron. The boy's face had gone stone cold, and Billy recognized the face of a soldier appear from the young waiter in front of him. He glanced at Jason, and saw the same look of sudden understanding on his counterparts face, and before Billy knew what he was doing his hand was reaching for the pistol at his hip as the young man produced a long knife with a war cry.

"Remember your mothers face!" he yelled, and with a flash he swung his knife at Bella's face, slicing her from the bridge of her nose down to the bottom of her jaw. Thomas stepped back quickly and reached for his pistol and sword when a deafening crack filled the room, and Thomas collapsed on the floor with blood spurting from his neck. The waiters all yelled in fear and surprise, and the other members of the Cabinet jumped to their feet at the sudden violence. Billy saw as Stoddard drew his officers sword and swung it at the other waiter, who still held the gun used to shoot Thomas aloft. He fired a second shot at Stoddard and clipped his shoulder, but it was too late for him, and the Imperial Admirals sword landed squarely on the would be assassins shooting hand, cutting it off with a sickening squish. Billy pointed his own gun at the waiter, watching with horror as he sliced the Empress's hand as she reached for her own sword, before stabbing her in the stomach, just below the ribs. Billy pulled the trigger and fired, shooting the waiter three times in the back.

There was a commotion from outside, and Billy heard two more shots in the hall, followed by cries to "remember you mothers face," and to "never forsake the All Father's Word!"

Billy looked around the room, filled with smoke and cries of terror as two Royal Guards came bursting into the room. For the first time in his life Billy saw them with their rifles in their hands instead of over their shoulders, and suddenly he saw the Guards for what they really were. They no longer looked decorative, they looked dangerous. Elite.

"Attend to the Empress," cried Stoddard, pointing to Bella. She was pale, and blood had quickly turned her white shirt to a crimson red. As Billy studied his leaders face, he saw the telltale signs of a person in shock.

""You," said Billy to the second Guard, "help me in the hall."

The gaurd nodded as Billy strode quickly and confidently for the door, his pistol held loose in his hand. Behind him Sotddard leaned down and picked up Thomas's pistol and followed Billy. Thomas was dead, he could see. He had passed out in seconds, in the thirty seconds this event had taken, Stoddard had bled out. Such was life when you were shot in the artery. He expected there to be a beautiful funeral later that month.

Billy flung the door open to see two other Royal Guards exchanging shots with a woman dressed in maids clothes and a men dressed as a butler. He raised his pistol and fired the rest of his magazine down the hall, clipping the maid in the ankle and taking her off of her feet. The bullets kicked the plaster off the walls in big spouts of durst, and as Stoddard came out next to him he Thomas's pistol as well, the big revolver roaring like a cannon in the tight space. The guard with them had fixed his bayonet, and rushed ahead, followed closely behind by one of the two guards, who had ditched his rifle and drawn his own pistol. There were two shots form down the hall, and the Guard with the bayonet staggered but did not stop. The one with the pistol fired and there was a cry of pain, the butler collapsing before trying to rise again. Next to him the maid clutched her shattered ankle and cried out in pain, when the soldier with the bayonet stabbed the butler on the floor. The second Guard stood for a moment, looking around at the shattered hallways, before his eyes landed on the maid. She looked up at him with both fear and determination, and Billy saw the Guard's face twist with what could only be called hatred. He reached down and hoisted the maid to her feet, dragging her down the hall as she limped and cried on her ankle. She left a trail of spattered blood behind her, and Billy saw as her foot flopped around uselessly. It would probably need to be amputated, but he knew that wasn't what they were taking the maid for. She was being taken for interrogation, and torture.

Inside the room the Guard attending to Billy looked up at him, pressing heavily onto the Empresses stomach where she had been stabbed. He looked at Billy's leg, then up at Billy, and said "you're shot sir." Billy looked down at the red spot spreading over his left thigh. In all the confusion, he hadn't even realized.

[Aclus]

Zee Prlmnt
RannKradle City
Rep/Captain Thomas Shelby

Thomas listened in to the words of Vail Adance, scratching his chin at some of them, nodding in a understanding manner to some others, after the statement given to him from the former Rannorian General, Thomas took off his Green officers cap and slicked back his hair. He took a sip of water and picked up his satchel and pulled out the Document of demands from the Warglorian and Aclusian government. He looked it over then handed it to Warglorian Representative Reichsminister Carl Lindunbergh who gave his annual nod of approval.

Thomas then looked at the armed soldiers guarding the cafe, he gave them a hand signal and they took defensive positions, securing the entrances, pushing the people out of the building to keep the perimeter private. He then slid the document over to Vail Adance, who seemed to disregard what was happening around him. Thomas crossed his arms and cleared his throat, it was time to get to business, no pleasantries or any dilly dallying, but business.

"Right there are the conditions of the Aclusian and Warglorian withdrawal of Rannoria, since the war did end in a victory for us, these must be followed in order for the election to start for your people" Thomas told Vail Adance.

Conditions of the Aclusian-Warglorian Withdrawal of Rannoria
Treaty Of RannKradle
January 1st, 1912

- Seizure of all Rannorian Tanks
- Seizure of Anti tank Weapons
- Seizure of all artillery pieces above 37mm
- Reduced Navy -Cruisers and Destroyers are allowed- Submarines, Dreadnoughts and SuperDreadnoughts are disbanded
- Establishment of Rannorian Security forces
- Army Dismantled into the Security forces
- Security Forces may only enlist men of 17-19 years old, no War veterans
- Reduced air force
- Population of civilians are not granted to own Small Arms
- Security forces will be trained by Western League officers
- Most Importantly, the dismantling of the Great Defence
As well as paying reparations of the war.

Aclusian and Warglorian governments will assist in the rebuilding of destroyed structures and homes of the Rannorian people
The Establishment of the Provisional Government will be done by the traditional Election. The Election will be held in January 3rd for the Rannorian people under the Aclusian Security forces in the town Square of Rannkradle. Signing means the agreement of the Withdrawal of the Aclusian and Warglorian Security forces, as well as a everlasting peace.

Please Sign Here _______________________

City of Loxdon
Royal Palace
King George V

George sat down on the dining table with his 2 sons, Prince George VI and Prince Albert II, George being 17 and Albert being 22. Both of different character as well, young George was more of a man of knowledge, he valued education over sport and Military concerns, while Albert was the complete opposite, he volunteered to fight in the 9 years war as a Lieutenant, leading men in the front lines to fight in the colonies, he loved the killing, the mud and the blood, some thought of him as strange but highly masculine in every way possible. However some way, some how they all got along, 2 halves of old George himself.

The waiters brought out the food and the entree's, Hot piping bowls of Ox tail Stews, filled with potatoes and carrots, perfect for the winter. Followed by garlic bread rolls with butter, another would be a pot worth of Beef curry, spiced with the famous herbs and spices from the Indianum colony. Every thing was swell as the Queen took her place with the men, Queen Elizabeth, a Twelve Isles native who George fell in love with during his journeys in the reclamation war. The atmosphere was amazing with all the smells of food until a Servant walked up to the Queen and whispered the assassination attempt on Queen Bella of the Twelve isles. King George was then informed of it as well.

"Grab me a phone and dial Billy younger's personal" the King told a servant. the phone rang until it was answered.

"My friend, is everything okay?" King George spoke.

[Dragos Bee]

The Over-Khaganate

Merv, to the West

As the caravans of Bactrian Camels enter the city of Merv to the West, Lady-General Raiza Khan continued to worry about the news each new trader brought. From the nation of Breyburg came news that the nations to the outside had just finished a gigantic war, a war waged with weapons of unfathomable strength. If not for the fact that the Caravaneers carried some of those weapons themselves - bolt-action rifles and twelve-shot pistols with armor-piercing bullets - she would have chosen to dismiss the accounts of the war and the weapons used in it as fables. But it was clear that the world was changing, and the Khaganate must change with it.

Looking from her balcony at Merv's citadel, using a 'modern' spyglass to observe the caravans, Raiza pondered on the visits from Manticorian Prospectors all throughout the country; the Chamber of Intelligence and Espionage had informed her that said prospectors - prospectors that carried wondrously advanced weapons themselves - had been privately discussing amongst themselves the importance of the Black Oil and Metals they had found in the Over-Khaganate's lands. One of them, plied with drink, had even spoken the word 'annexation', an offense that would have merited imprisonment or death if not for the fact that alienating such a powerful nation as Manticore came with obvious costs.

Letting go of her spyglass and turning towards the pile of books on her desk - modern learning translated into Overculture Tounge - Raiza knew that a dangerous game had begun and that if the Over-Khaganate was to survive, it had to play it cleverly.

Rayy, The Wonder of the World

Rayy had always had a reverence for Wise Men and Women, whether Religious or Secular. Rayy was the well of philosophy, where freedom of thought had led to a flourishing of beauty and wonder not found elsewhere. Or at least, that was the idea.

Hussein bin Rumi, a descendant of yes, someone named Rumi, was shocked and befuddled that the outside world had outpaced them in some aspects of philosophical thought. Granted, some of the ideas he was reading about, [Alt-Hobbesianism] and [Alt-Utilitarianism] were violent and crude, but others were sublime. [Alt-Hegel] and [Alt-Comte] had sentiments that were understandable and applicable to the Over-Khaganate, and while others of the current generation of 'Wise Folk' rejected how they had been exceeded by 'barbarians', Hussein regarded it as his duty to accept the truth, no matter how unpalatable it was.

As he went outside his small house - small enough to be frugal but large enough to be comfortable - to meet with the Vakil Ro'Aya, he knew this; students had to be sent all over the outside world!

[Breyburg]

Breyburg
January, 1912

A Visit to the Overculture Federation

The trip took over a week. It was a great trek, seeing as there is no infrastructure connecting the SASB and the Overculture Federation (OF). Men had to saw trees down and move boulders so the caravan of vehicles could make it’s way to Rayy. Alfred Woods personally saw that he would make it to the OF. “This is the beginning of a great alliance!” he said the whole way to people who wanted to turn back.

The land that this caravan had gone over was totally uncharted, unnamed. A great mountain range splits the unclaimed land and Breyburg apart. They decided to name this mountain range the Merryway Mountain range. It was jokingly named this as many of the men saw the trip as unnecessary. But Alfred insisted that they press on.

The convoy eventually made it to the OF border. Border guards on horseback greeted them with open arms, they knew where this convoy was from. The news of the pipeline from the OF to Breyburg was good news for economy of the OF.

A few hours later of their arrival OF ambassadors were scrambled to meet the convoy and bring them to the nation’s capital, Rayy. They passed through smaller cities and witnessed the everyday life of the people of Overculture. When they made it to Rayy the were greeted by Shahrukh Mizra Khan, the Representative of the People.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Alfed. We greatly appreciate it.” Khan said.

“It’s nothing, just an act of kindness I guess you could say.” Alfred reassured. “In return for this oil pipeline I would like supply you with weapons or military trainers. No gift to Breyburg will go ungifted. We, I, would like to do something for you and your nation.”

“Actually, we would need some help bringing our military up to speed. We are still using bows and arrows. We will take the trainers.” Khan agreed.

“Good, good! I am glad that we could repay you! I will send some of my best trainers to you and teach your men! You know, Khan, I believe that this could be the beginning of a great, strong alliance, no, friendship between our two nations. Don’t you?” Alfred said.

“Yes, yes it could be.” Khan said.

“Good to hear that Khan. I will also see that crates of Kramer 12s and Adams 261s will be shipped to your military headquarters.” Alfred reassured.
-
Weeks later the construction on the new pipeline has commenced. It is currently being patrolled by 6 divisions of the 1st Mountain Army.
-
Mid January, 1912
“Sir, I bring news of a possible treaty between Wargloria, Aclus and Rannoria.” a newsbringer tells Alfred.

“What? What are the conditions?” Alfred asks.

“We don't know much yet sir. All we know is that Aclus and Wargloria are trying to sieze more of Rannoria.”

“This is unacceptable. They are trying to turn Rannoria into a puppet state! This will not stand. Write this down; I know your nation is in the midst of election. Tell whoever wins or who is highest in power now that Breyburg does not want them to sign the treaty. I, Alfred Woods, personally want to see Rannoria rebuilt and restructured. Do not hand yourself over to the Wargloria and Aclus.”

“I will wire it to Rannoria right away, sir.”

[The Twelve Isles]

Imperial Marshall Billy Younger
Grey Dunes Estate, Townhill, Mournly Isles
After the assassination attempt

Billy sat in a chair, his coat unbuttoned and his hair disheveled. Now that the adrenaline was all gone, his leg hurt to hell. He held a washcloth filled with ice against it and looked around his home, taking in the evening light in his home. He needed to put on the lights, but for now had chosen not to. He had instead sat in a chair by his piano, held ice against his leg and drank. This business with the Inquisitors, and the Church, had gotten way out of hand. When he was young, sure there were problems in the Empire, but never would anyone think of trying to kill the Empress. There was safeguards in place, so that no one would need to kill an Empress. He felt afraid, for the first time in a long time. What was this world coming too? The death of the Nine Years War, killing machines unlike any other on display for all the world to see. Death around every corner it seemed, gangs and violence and disease on the streets. And now this, religious extremists in the Isles. Of all the places in the world, it was the Isles, the place that had long been seen as a bastion of relative acceptance and tolerance. It was imperfect, but it was better than many other places. Or maybe Billy was just getting old, and his mind had forgotten what it had been like when he was a boy. His whole life he had been a soldier, and he had earned the title of Imperial Marshal at such a young age. Maybe this was how it had always been, and his time in high places had just made him forget it.

Billy shook his head to drive that thought away, and placed his whiskey down on the piano. He stood and hobbled, far to much like an old man for his comfort, over to his phonograph machine. Billy flicked an electric light on and leaned down to look through the few records he had collected, pulling out the first one he had ever bought. Whale Songs: Songs Of Sailors And The Islesish. It was filled with songs of his youth, the songs they used to play on street corners and in bars. It was the sounds of his time in gangs and the 1st Rifles. Whenever he listened to this record, it reminded Billy of being young wild and free on Bowler Street, fighting and stealing and ducking the law. Without the music Billy felt wrong and cruel when he thought of those times, but with it he felt young again. He felt brave.

Billy smiled and stood, groaning at the pain in his leg and knee's, and slipped the record from its sleeve. He lifted the needle, dropped the record onto the phonograph, and lowered the needle back down. As the music began to play from the phonograph Billy wandered his house, turning the lights on and fixing himself a cup of coffee. It would be a long night tonight, and he wished he hadn't sent Leander and Sally, his butler and maid, home for the night. At the time he had wanted to be alone, but now he figured he was going to need their help.

As Billy made his way to his study, he heard his telephone begin to ring. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. He hated that damn thing. He could never figure out how to dial it right, and every time it rang he had to run across his damn house to pick it up. Billy jogged as best he could, and cursed every time his injured leg hit the floor. When he finally made it to his study, he practically ripped the phone off the wall in his frustration, and sat into his desk chair with malice. "What?" he barked into the phone, and instantly regretted it when he heard the voice speak in English, not Mournlyish. Aclusians.

"I'm sorry," said Billy in English, wiping his hand down his face as he tried to dismiss his frustration. "Its been a long day. May I ask who this is?"

Billy listened as King George of Aclus spoke to him, and Billy sat up a lot straighter. Why he was being called instead of Asa he didn't know, but he supposed it was understandable. Asa was new, and more people knew of Billy Younger than Asa Hargrave.

"King George, I'm very sorry for my tone earlier," said Billy. "How can I help you?"

"My friend, is everything okay?" King George said from the other end of the phone, and his tone caused Billy to lean back in his chair, relaxing his guard. This was not political, it was strictly personal. A call between friends and colleagues in the worlds leadership, not between a King and another nations commander.

"No sir," said Billy, "things are most definitely not OK here on our end. The Empress is hospitalized, the Guard Captain is murdered, and any attempts at reconciliation with the Inquisitors now will make it look to them like they won. If its things like this that are going to be happening now, then it wont be long until we can no longer rely on just the Wardens to keep the Inquisitors in check, and I will have to command the Army to destroy strongholds held by Islesish citizens loyal to the Church." Billy sighed, and leaned forward on his knee's. All Fathers mercy he wanted to sleep, but for now he would just have to take it one thing at a time, and Billy reminded himself of that as he chose his next words. "Anyhow, tomorrow we are having an emergency meeting to choose the new Guard Captain, so the Royal Guard is not left floundering. I've been tasked with looking through records along with my colleagues, Imperial Marshal Stoddard and Spymaster Oleg to pick out who we feel are the best candidates. So far I've got my eye on a young woman named Anastasia Allencroft. She seems promising. . . I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to drop all of my problems on you. Its just late, and I'm stressed. Is there any particular reason why you have called tonight sir?"

[Aclus]

Royal Palace
King George V
Throne room
Loxdon City

Old George listened to Billy's words, the Marshall was in a utter mess but it was due to stress and his age that everything was spiraling out of control for him, it was purely understandable, George knew exactly how he felt for he was once in positions like that years ago. After Billy had finished the briefing of what happened, George began to talk.

"It sounds like your day has been one of the worst in a while, my apologies to your queen and those that lost their life, I merely called to check up on the queen and you my friend, if there's anything I can do don't be afraid to ask" George finished saying.

Before Billy could even respond however he quickly added another small detail.

"I also wished to tell you that when this all blows off, we'll be burying Albert with full military honors, he and you as well will be rewarded the LionCross of the Aclusian Empire" George finally finished stating as he waited for a response.

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Talks

The Warmaster Eadricing, Talking with Grand Lord Caneius

With the quick and simple reply of "Very well" from his host, he quickly partook in the food that was presented before him. Grabbing his plate a few moments before the Grand Lord, he slowly and methodically began consuming it, liver, then mashed potato, then the beef brisket, and so on and so forth. Talks quickly resumed as the Grand Lord at the head of the table swallowed what he was chewing, and he prepared to listen to him. "You see Alto, an empire can fall apart within a very small amount of time." his host began, and that statement he could agree with, Ruskland rose fast, and quickly fell as fast as it rose to power, "Yes, of course it may not seem as though much has changed, but day by day, month by month, year by year, they grow divisive, through war, death, rape, massacre, and terror, these empires fall into economic and civil crisis . As was the case for the nations of the Great War. I'm sure you understand Alto, for your very nation endured such troubles." Indeed Ruskland-Preuben did, and it successfully endured.

His host then poured him and himself a glass of dark red wine, of which he drank slowly, savoring the taste and letting it wash away the various pieces of meat and mashed potato that got stuck within his mouth. Grand Lord Caneius resumed talking after he finished his drink, "The nations remaining in the world, are not as strong as they used to be, and are bound together by alliance, thus making their weaknesses..." his host trailed off, but resumed rapidly with talking, "Well, not that weak.". "What are you planning Grand Lord?" Alto thought to himself as he listened. "I propose an alliance between our two nations," to this his eyes slightly widened and he raised an eyebrow slightly, this was something interesting! "An alliance uncorrupted by the foreign barbarians and influences of the Western League, an Imperial pact between our nations, as we share common beliefs.". "As of now, I am confident enough, however not ignorantly nor underestimatingly," continued Grand Lord Alistair Caneius' explanation, "Concluding that I believe, that Norcourt, and the Ruskland, has the power and opportunity to become the leading nations of the world...". At the finishing of his host's spiel, he began thinking on what to answer. Sure, the emperor had given him the authority of a diplomat, capable of accepting offers by the one standing in front of him, but this was an offer that had to be given more thought than usual.

"You sell," he hesitated slightly, as to think on what to say next, "A compelling narrative, Grand Lord Caneius, but it appears there seems to be a few issues with it. No offense to you, but I shall point these out, give an apt response to these, and I will accept your offer on behalf of my emperor.". "For one, what of the other alliances?" he began to list out, "They will not take kindly to another bloc of power gaining neutral states, not to mention the AORN, which your nation left, will most likely say something, or worse, go to war.". "Then what about my nation, Grand Lord?" he continued on, "We have experience in being inside alliances, and most of them bad experiences leading to the loss of resources, annexation of our territories by foreigners, destruction of our allies, and most of all, the loss of Rusklandr soldiers, I should know, I have seen many a pale face during the 9 Years War.". "Finally, my last point, somewhat related to my previous one," he then finished his platter, and poured himself a cup of wine, sipping it a bit, "What's in it for us?". He took a deep breath and coughed slightly, before resuming, "You gain an ally, us, and our nation's military, navy, air force, and technology, but what about you? Will you provide us with what is needed? Or will you merely mooch our resources.". "Again, no offense, but all these fights alongside former allies, betrayals by said allies, and of course, the loss of life," he looked outside, it was a clear night, clouds and stars interspersed across the firmament, with the moon outshining both in splendor, "All that has made me jaded to the other nations upon this world, and to the formation of military alliances with them.".

He took a look at his plate, empty, just like the Bog post-war...

He was now the newly appointed Warmaster in recognition of his service and strategic skill during the 9 Years War, one benefit was being allowed to go about the nation of Ruskland-Preuben, and so he visited one place that caused him so much emotional suffering, and yet, the place's atmosphere washed over him, giving him a feeling of tranquility. The horrible memories of this place, and yet it was so beautiful, for some strange reason. It was morning, and the sun's rays were angled, at the perfect angle, complimenting the soft sounds of floating streams and the occasional peeping of birds. Under his feet, the soaking wet boards of wood that made up the path made an almost inaudible squelching sound as he pressed his boots into them as he walked. 9 years ago, the place was a nightmarish hellscape of blown trees, reddish brown mud, and bodies, both whole and split, littering both things. On top of it all, instead of peaceful chirping and flowing, the air was chock-full of the sounds of gunfire, artillery, tank engines, and uncaring hawks of steel and their engines.

How long had he been walking? It didn't matter, what mattered is that, the place he was currently approaching by path, seemed eerily familiar. Then it hit him like one of the soldiers he had sent to die on the front, on orders, made on that spot. The place was now a tad darker, and his eyes were widened.

Entering the tent, what was once three generals was now four, him, Laurent, Lee, and Meyer. The four generals had convened within a makeshift tent slightly to the north of Hilltone, a small village by the battlefield, the noncombatants of the village had left, mostly women and children, able men had been conscripted to the army to replenish losses right on the spot.

"Alright, let's start shall we?" He began, his once smooth baritone voice emanating throughout the tent, to which nods were given as reply. "Okay, I'll take that as a yes." He quickly resumed speaking after a few moments of silence, interspersed with distant but distinct noises of war, "My troops under Summers and Radberght will begin continuous heavy bombardment by 8:00 AM, after an hour, I want Laurent to advance and pick off stragglers, is that clear?".

"Affirmative, General." Replied the gruff voice of Loras S. Laurent, a veteran of previous wars, and of whom he had made a close friend of, he and him went a long way, all the way back to the Morvern War.

"That's good to hear," he responded, then he resumed with the creation of battle plans, "Now at 8:30, Lee's forces will be ordered to flank the east flank of the Arenginians with his tank and cavalry groups, and after he makes contact and hits them, Meyer's troops will flank their western flank, using the distraction of Lee to his advantage." He explained, then he took a puff out of his cigar, it was a stub by now, and he quashed it against the ground after throwing it there. "Then, using the double distractions," he resumed, "Me and Laurent will then cross the bridges and surround the Arenginians with Meyer and Lee's forces,"he said without losing breath, he really did have an impressive pair of lungs, "If that fails in dislodging them from Botn and the surrounding areas, retreat to former positions and recuperate losses.". "We'll be resuming bombardment quickly after that," he told them, "If we succeed, all forces must regroup at Botn and continue down the Northward Road and hit Nordrest, kill all stragglers.". "Any questions?" He asked, and there was a silent but resounding no by head shaking, and he simply nodded once at that, and the meeting was adjourned.

He walked outside, to the cold winter bogs, and heard the sounds of war in their full volume. Looking at an old path, he saw, himself.

He wept bitterly, fists clenched.

His face was neutral looking, which betrayed his inner emotions, that of resentment.

Distant knocks, distant door creaks, distant footsteps. Nearby messenger, and his message. He read it, his emperor was dead, now his son ruled in his place, at last was his tormentor gone. Now, hope bloomed once more, a weak bloom, he had to shield it. Either way, his duty here still wasn't done, and the new Emperor, Lothar, had allowed him to continue.

---

Fade In

Photo of Emperor Lothar I mn Suesani

The letter to his Warmaster had been sent, now was time to send even more letters to other nations, such as the Rannorians. He planned to include them in his sphere of influence, and with the possible Ruskland-like gutting of military capability that would undoubtedly be imposed upon them, why wouldn't they join him? His nation was the one that recovered first from the war, for the Western League had invaded a nation of ruins, and yet were turned back. On that statement, he only needed to repair the previous ruins, as no new ruined Imperial musculature had appeared during the 9 Years War, well, except for those few areas in the east, but those were easily repaired as well, the economy was another thing, but give no mind to that for now, he had thought, he had letters to send!

The first one, to the Warmaster, was, again, already done. The second letter, this time to the Rannorian leader Vail Adance, was about the, as of now, unknown treaty, and how Ruskland-Preuben would be able to relieve them, he was of the opinion that Rannoria was going to undergo a peace treaty similar to the one that had burdened the Rusklandr after the Morvern War, as in, no more military strength, and so he would become as Transvaal for the Rusklandr military, a supplier and burden reliever. And when they were shot upon, well, there was always his somewhat de facto alliance with Manticore that he could call upon in the face of Western League aggression.

The third and third letter was sent to Manticore and the Twelve Isles, to Empress Catherine Stark nee Javette and Empress Bella Cartwine. The former about the possible reaffirmation of the de facto Rusklandr-Manticoran alliance into that and de jure. The latter being condolences about the empress, word of the possible assassination had reached R'lyeh, and he had heard of it first from his informants. The latter letter was also about the possible positive strengthening of TTI-Rusklandr diplomacy. Concluding all of that, he retired to his chambers, for now, just one.

He really needed to find a wife. One more letter, to the various monarchies of the world, he needed a wife, and would accept any royal takers.

[Rannoria]

The Treaty of Rannkradle

---

"...these must be followed in order for the election to start for your people." Thomas handed Vail the document. On it were the symbols of Aclus and Wargloria, and just by those words he knew what was to be expected.

As a Rannorian, Vail was somewhat proud of his country and identity. As he read down the list of demands, he began to feel a knot form in his throat. Not of fear; though, but of anger. As he reached the bottom of the document, he cleared his throat, and exhaled. Prepared for what was to come, he spoke.

"This seems... fair. As much as I hate to say it, we are unable to do anything about this, are we?" He grabbed a pen from his pocket, but did not uncap it. "But before I sign, I have a few questions. First off, what is the purpose of the Rannorian Security Forces? For any future ruler of Rannoria, it should be known as to why the army was dismantled in favour of these "Security Forces". And on the note of the security forces, I said that all Aclusian and Warglorian influence must be removed from Rannoria, and that their presence should not be in Rannoria. This extends to all Western League influence." Vail paused for a moment, then continued. "I also do wish that our artillery pieces were retained. They are good for defence, and if a neutral power - Norcourt, for example - were to invade, our lack of heavy firepower. Anyway, I suppose that would be stretching it. I will sign this treaty if the terms that were mentioned prior to my "artillery statement" are explained and removed."

Vail decided to stop there. In his thoughts, he believed that these were reasonable terms. Perhaps that was due to his desire for Rannoria to be a sovereign state, but anyone negotiating for their country's future would push for better terms. Before the representatives could answer, he asked one final question. "And... if I didn't sign this document, what would happen?" Of course he expected an answer like "Continued war", but perhaps there could be a better outcome. A simple question with a potentially expected answer, but it was worth a try.

[Norcourt]

Vendetta

House Caneius,
Harbrook Norcourt

Alistair observed the man, as he looked down on his plate, emotionless and bleak. He thought to himself for a moment, then came to the understanding of the man's ordeal and past. "Alto, the people of Norcourt have endured through civil war, the terror of communism, the rape of their capital cities, and the atrocities committed by the Covenant. If anyone is to understand the struggles and crisis of that of the people of Ruskland-Preuben have went through, the sympathies are to be found here in Norcourt. Upon our coalition and formation of the bloc, Norcourt will provide arms, firepower, armor, military, and a means of justice and redemption against the perpetrators of that criminal ending to the war that you have all endured."

Alistair took upon himself yet another glass of red wine, stood from his chair, and walked slowly to observe the dark blue starry night, along with Warmaster Eadricing. "With our combined efforts, the people...our people, shall thrive. We shall establish trade routes, manufacturing facilities, railways, and the greatest professional armies the world has ever seen. Commerce, peace, and stability will run through the blood of the nations of our glorious alliance. What I propose is no deception sir, but a means of peace through war and sacrifice."

He paused then took a look at the Warmaster, looking through the mirror on the wall that was Eadricing's eyes, and sipping from his glass. "Alto...we can rule the world. Join me now my brother, and we shall prosper."

[The Manticoran Empire]

War Department Building
Vicuna
5 March 1912

Field Marshall Roy Jackson sat in the conference room, looking at the document in front of him. The document itself detailed the future of the Armed Forces and he knew that a few people were going to be irated about it. Around him, the Chiefs of Staff of the various branches were seated, each with their own staffers. "Well gentlemen, it is official. Parliament has passed our budget for the year and we now know who gets the priorities." He looked at Field Marshall Patrick Rodgers, the Chief of Staff of the Army, and spoke, keeping his voice level as he did, "Unfortunately, Pat, your branch is going to take some of the biggest reductions. They'll maintain funding to update your arsenal but don't expect any expansions." Jackson turned to the Navy and Marine Chiefs of Staff and said, "You guys are getting the priority in funding. The Marines have budgeting allotments for new equipment and expanded amphibious force capabilities. The Fleet will be expanded to at least reach parity with the Aclusians, if not the entire Western League." Finally, he turned to the Air Force Chief of Staff. "Unfortunately, Charles, your stuck in the middle. More funding than the army, to allow for some expansion and quicker modernization, but not quite enough to properly conduct the operations that we probably will need you for."
Rodgers was the first to speak when Jackson was finished. "I understand Parliament's reasoning. We are, after all, an empire of islands. The Fleet is far more important in peace and war. But, if that is the case, then why shouldn't we maximize the Army's ability to react quickly? We should be expanding our mechanized forces, not limiting them?"
"Normally, I'd agree with you Pat and, if you can figure out how to do it with the budget you have, then I'll back you up. Unfortunately, I don't know how you'll be able to accomplish it. On top of that, I doubt the Secretary of War is going to be willing to start of a fight with either Parliament or the Exchequer over more tanks. Everyone is agreed that what we need are more warships. But, as I said, if you can find the money for it, I'll back you up."
"Another point, Sir," said Air Marshall Charles Ramon, "As evidenced by the War, Air Power will play a key role in future conflicts. Aircraft possess far greater ranges than our artillery can carry similar weights of explosive."
"Some aircraft can," replied High Admiral Keith White, the First Sea Lord. Ramon looked at him in astonishment until Marshall Bertram Johnson spoke. "As much as I hate to agree with Keith on anything, he's correct. Most aircraft cannot carry ordnance heavier than a 60-pounder shell. The ones which can are slow and dependent on escort from fighters with a fraction of their range. We saw your demonstration on the captured Skartenian battleship. It was defenseless, stationary, and it took you four and a half hours to even get it to list. It was another three hours before you sank it. Had that been an actual engagement, that battleship would still be afloat and most of your bombers would have been destroyed by enemy planes and fire from the battleships. Until someone can get around the payload issue, I'm afraid that planes will be relegated to spotting for the battleships."
Ramon maintained his stunned look, struggling to find the words to reject the assessment of the Navy and Marines. Unfortunately, he couldn't. His anti-shipping demonstration had been viewed by the entire High Command, the Empress, and the Cabinet. The ten hour demonstration had shown that it was POSSIBLE to sink a defenseless battleship but far from an efficient use of resources. Parliament had, of course, agreed, indicating in their budget that they believed focus should go to fighters and single engine attack planes to support ground operations, with bombers receiving much lower priority.
Jackson looked away from Ramon and turned to White, "Keith, how do you want to structure building priorities?"
"I'm wanting to stick pretty close to ships of the line and battlecruisers. My current thinking is to begin to phase out the battleships and moving their crews onto dreadnoughts and super dreadnoughts and concentrate them in Home Fleet. The Battlecruisers will then form the center of our colonial fleets with screens of primarily cruisers. It is my intention to also incorporate our submersibles into the Home Fleet to form a sort of forward picket. The submersibles would at the very least be able to force enemy ships to break formation to avoid their torpedoes, putting us in a better position when the action finally begins."
"Good. Ramon, Rodgers, if you guys can come up with the funds to do things your way, I'll do what I can to make sure it gets done your way. No promises, though."

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Conclusion

Portrait of the Warmaster, Painted January 2, 1912

His host resumed talking with him after the message had been sent. "Alto, the people of Norcourt have endured through civil war," Alistair began his counterpoints, so far, so good, "The terror of communism," he knew that terror well during the Immigrant Purges just after the Carribean War, "The rape of their capital cities," Skartenians had figuratively raped a city, and a holy site to boot, on the eastern coast, "And the atrocities committed by the Covenant." Ah, religion, unfortunately, Cthulhism forbade this sort of stuff, aim those atrocities at the enemy instead. "If anyone is to understand the struggles and crisis of that of the people of Ruskland-Preuben have gone through," continued the Grand Lord, "The sympathies are to be found here in Norcourt." Hmm, perhaps they do. "Upon our coalition and formation of the bloc," he further told him, now diplomacy was flowing! "Norcourt will provide arms," most likely stuff the Imperium didn't have, "Firepower," ah yes, firepower, you could never have enough of it, "Armor," most likely tanks, anything would be good, the military was currently in the gutter as of present, "Military," and he read his mind, swell, "And a means of justice and redemption against the perpetrators of that criminal ending to the war that you have all endured."...

That, was... Something he could get behind, wholeheartedly. Yes, indeed. Pouring himself a cup of wine alongside the Grand Lord, the latter seemed to be preparing to speak again, and so he listened whilst sipping his now filled glass of wine. His generous host quickly stood up from his chair, and walked slowly towards him to observe the dark blue starry night with him. "With our combined efforts, the people..." he hesitated slightly, "Our people shall thrive. We shall establish trade routes, manufacturing facilities, railways, and the greatest professional armies the world has ever seen." he had boasted, and it seemed as if he could back it up, all Norcourt did during the war was stay neutral and rebuild from the civil war. "Commerce, peace, stability," he listed, "They will run through the blood of the nations of our glorious alliance.". Grand Lord Caneius then looked at him quickly, "What I propose is no deception sir, but a means of peace through war and sacrifice." He told him.

"Alto... We can rule the world. Join me now my brother, and we shall prosper.". Alto paused, looking at his glass, it was now empty.

"Perhaps our nations will..." he rose up slowly, and faced his host, a fiery look in his eye, unseen since his early days in the war. "It appears that you have convinced me!" Alto began as he had stood up straight and proud, "I have been granted diplomatic privileges by the emperor, and now, I shall use them to accept your offer!". He then shook the Grand Lord's hand before resuming, "Let it be known, that today," he held his breath, "The Eastern Imperium of old has been reborn, and is christened the Imperial Bloc!". "Come, tell one of your servants to bring paper and a typewriter," he told Alistair as he sat back down, a smirk on his face, "We shall write down what we need and sign it, making it official. I will then go back to R'lyeh to allow the Emperor to sign it.".

"Come now, comrade! We have a future to create!".

---

Introduction

Palas Fomalhaut, northeastern corner by the lake

Wondering about in the sprawling, directionless paths that were the old shallow-water walkways of Lake Abbott, Emperor Lothar did this, as he could not sleep from all the things he had been thinking about. The nation, it was now his, his coronation would occur in just two days. The navy, what navy? The military, at least it wasn't nonexistent like the navy, but still, in ruins! His father's research projects, are in shambles, and the new Enigma colony in Zlareslak is being a thorn in the ass, for now. Minerals were still eluding his miners down in that one corner of the south pole, and if the colony could not be supported by profits there, he would have to abandon it, and it was his only foothold on the main continent! By the time he finished thinking with speed, he had arrived at one of the ends of the wooden paths, a small sea stack of limestone, rising defiantly from the lakebed. No stairs or ladders, not even ones that were just chiseled into it, it was just an old stack that had a topping of grass. What was odd however, was the strange compulsion to climb it. And he decided to humor the compulsion, and prepared to climb it.

He slowly scaled it, the stack had been eroded in a way that made climbing it tricky, but he was a man that knew how to climb things, why, he was exploring Palas Fomalhaut's every nook and cranny by climbing the walls when he was a child, ah, the memories, especially his numerous scoldings. But back to his task, the stack was making his hands work as dexterously as they could, and his feet were strained just to climb it. A section on his left gave way and he almost fell, but he was able to hold on, and in but a few moments, he had thrown himself onto the cliff edge, and a few scurries later, was in the middle of the stack's top. The grass was rough, but it mattered not, he had conquered another place. Lothar then thought of carving his face unto the rock, and after stargazing on the top of the stack, he left it by leaping off it, diving into the water. Swimming to the wooden paths, he seemed to have released some of his stress, and now he was, very, very tired. Sleep would be needed, but this experience was quite refreshing.

Slowly stalking through the shallow-water paths, he had arrived at the entrance to his castle, and after travelling the maze-like paths of Palas Fomalhaut, he arrived at his bedroom, a simple room, just a bed, a closet within the bed, a table at his foot, and levers leading to bells in rooms like the kitchen, at the corner, his cat, Conan, a fat ginger cat, was asleep, and he did too, after closing the door, he immediately fell upon the bed, and quickly fell to the depths of sleep, and then to the midnight zone of dreams.

Again, he dreamt about needing a wife, forming alliances, and a place called Austria.

---

Exploration

Sleighman exploring the neighboring area

Racing through the snows of the Antarctic, Ivar was starting to lose hope in the colony of Zlareslak, as, unlike its sister colony of Krenobyl, it had nothing to offer save seals and their tusks. There was nothing to be found on the icy mines on the coast, and he had little hope in this new mine that had begun digging. He would arrive there a few moments later, it was a hill, and on top was various mining machines, and they had already begun mining. "How goes the operation?" he had inquired, and so far, nothing. Ah, another empty hill, disappointing. But as he prepared his dogs to take him to the coastal settlement, someone had begun shouting loudly, and when he looked behind him, lo, a black fountain! It covered the pale, white snow, in viscous black liquid. They hit the black gold jackpot all right, they had found oil.

And where there's a well of it, potential was in the surrounding area, and this hill was neighbored by a multitude just like it.

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Neu Berlin, Warglorian Reich
Neu Berlin, the traditional and political capital of the Warglorian Reich. Across the city, history dating across all of Wargloria's medieval and modern history could be found. A castle once built by the Black Sun Theocracy. A military academy built during the Warglorian Kaiserreich. A Workers Union meeting house, now a beer hall, built for workers during the short reign of the Second Gloraros Republic. And among these buildings was the grand structure of the Ministry of War, built during the early days of the Kaiserreich by rich noblemen, it had been the location of the Ministry for War since the establishment of the Second Warglorian Reich, its 18th-century influence being clear from its sophisticated aesthetic and large pillars. And in the building itself, in one of its many rooms, was the office of one of the most powerful men in the Reich. The now 72-year-old Klaus Adler: the Hero of Wargloria, the Braveman of Dresden, the Preserver of the Reich, the Conquerer of Sylbania, one of the two Scourges of Rannoria, and more.

But at that moment Adler, with his black-greying hair and his not too wrinkled face, sighed as he continued to look over paperwork, concerning approvals for new projects and other such stuff. He could feel his age catching up to him as he continued to sign paper after paper. Sometimes, he wished that another war could happen, so he could once again feel active in something. But, to no avail. Adler reprimanded himself at such a thought. True, waging war was in the very spirit of the Warglorian people, yet unlike other more fanatical citizens, Adler was a smart and rather practical man. And though he might despair at admitting it, he was glad that the war was over.

Of course he was talking about the 9-Year-War. Compared to other nations such as the Arengin Union, the Manticoran Empire and Rannoria (especially Rannoria), the Reich was much better off. No enemy had been able to seriously penetrate deep into Warglorian territory during the war, what with the conquest of Sylbania leaving only Rannoria the last enemy on the mainland, meant that much of Wargloria's infrastructure and industry remained undamaged. Wargloria's already Autarkic nature and stable connection to her colonies throughout the war meant that Wargloria had never experienced major food or resource shortages. In fact with the need for weapons, Wargloria's economy and industry boomed somewhat. And the waging of war was ever so sweet, the conquest of Sylbania had come swiftly, overwhelming the Traansval Forces with relatively minimal losses. And the conquest of Rannoria had also been very sweet, with the Rannorians having launched blunder after blunder, wasting their otherwise very formidable force on Warglorian lines, which had eventually led to the masterful breakthrough of Rannoria's "Great Defence" and the total occupation of their ancient rival. And as the various Warglorian task forces across the other fronts proved to the world that Wargloria had some of, if not the best, soldiers in the world.

Though admittedly Adler didn't feel as good about completely occupying Rannoria. From his reports, much of Rannoria's infrastructure, agriculture, and industry had been heavily damaged or destroyed during the War. He had also heard of reports of how some Warglorian troops acted unfairly or even cruelly towards the local population (though nothing to the extent of mass executions). Adler closed his eyes at the thought. He had worked so hard with Grand Sios Adance to try and mend the long hateful relationship between Wargloria and Rannoria. And just as it seemed to start to bear fruit, Sios died and this whole war happened. Despite what some of the more fanatical or conservative elements thought, Adler knew Wargloria didn't need an enemy on the mainland. The long rivalry had already taken countless lives and froze development of the two nations for centuries. And for what? All because of the religious ideas of long-dead religious ancestors, of which Wargloria didn't even particularly follow anymore!

Thinking of lost lives made Adler clench the bridge of his nose in frustration. Though Wargloria eventually won out and was not as negatively affected as the other powers were, they still took a few hits. Across the various fronts, Warglorian troops fought and died for the cause. Some victorious battles resulted in heavy Warglorian casualties. Some conflicts, particularly in Rannoria, resulted in Warglorian troops being picked off over time, as partisans and ambushes resulted in further Warglorian dead. There were even some disastrous defeats, where many Warglorian troops were slaughtered without much gain. One of the most memorable was the Battle of Helogand Plains (ironic considering most of the troops weren't actually Warglorian). When news had reached Adler of how almost 30,000 Legionnaires were wiped off the map in their brave yet futile last stand, he had been devastated. And when the survivors returned to Wargloria, Adler did not hesitate to give each of them an Iron Cross (and some of them a Knight's Cross, or even a few with oak leaves and swords), immediate Warglorian citizenship, a rise in their pay, promotions, promises for an increased pension, and even offers to retire from active service (of which surprisingly almost all refused the last).

Overall, over 2 million Warglorian soldiers had died during the war. Two million. Two million Warglorians who had trained hard, trained rigorously, trained for most of their lives to become some of the best soldiers on the planet, wiped out in only a few years. It was the most devastating war in recent history since the Warglorian Civil War of the early 1800s. However, Wargloria was able to bounce back. Despite the setback, the Warglorian military had never been more powerful, more advanced, and more experienced. The Army was now full of veterans, and filled with new advanced weapons and equipment. The Navy had majorly increased in size and technological advancement. And the airforce, despite its short lifespan, dominated the skies. All they could do now was move on. And Adler fully intended for that.

Suddenly, the door to his office opened. As he looked up, he saw as several young boys and girls rushed into the room. "Opa!" they screamed as they rushed over to him. Klaus quickly stood up and, because of his large height and size, engulfed them all in one big bear hug. "Ah! Hello mein kleine süßigkeiten! What are you doing visiting Opa today?" Klaus asked warmly. "Just thought i'd bring them for a visit," a voice cheekily said, as Klaus looked up from his grandchildren. In front of him was a man wearing a Wehrmacht Major. Besides his light blue eyes, blonde hair and shorter 5"9' height, the man looked like a spiffing image of Klaus in his younger days. This was Dietrich Adler: son of Klaus Adler and Hannah Reinhardt, and he had quite the shit-eating grin.

Well. Klaus thought to himself, as he looked upon his son and grandchildren. It doesn't always have to be war, there are other joys in life afterall. And with that Adler smiled, his face looking 40 years younger for a moment.

Rannkradle City
Reichsminister Carl Lindenburgh
Carl had always been an interesting figure. Starting out as a lawyer, Lindenburgh later joined the Warglorian Wehrmacht, where he proved himself throughout various scenarios and later combat situations. After being honourably discharged due to an injury (thought to be permanent, but of which Carl miraculously fully recovered from), Carl later joined the realm of politics, where he proved to be quite good in the realm. He had quickly caught the eye of Hans Landa who, seeing potential in him, appointed him as his right-hand man, and later, when he became Führer, his Reichsminister. Carl had always been described as eerily calm, even in the most stressful of situations he can prove to keep a cool head. He had also been described as being rather sociable, though not in the same charismatic way as Landa. No, Carl could be described as either being fairly warm or utterly cold yet convincing. Staring into his often cold eyes would lead to even the strongest of people to start feeling dizzy.

Today, as the representative of the Reich, he was to negotiate with the new Grand: Vail Adance. Giving his blunt nature, he assured Der Führer that'd it be all over quickly. Whether his claim was true remained to be seen, though Carl was usually always optimistic: despite not showing it. He looked over to Captain Shelby, who had handed over the document which inscribed the terms for Rannoria's liberation. As Carl nodded to Shelby, he found himself quickly looking over the relatively young man. His posture implied that he was a bit nervous, yet his eyes remained very alert. As Shelby signalled to his men at the cafe, Carl noted the man's further alertness by his actions: obviously a veteran of the war to the point where he may have a mild case of paranoia. His firm jaw once again reinforced his slight nervousness, yet he could also see in his posture and the subtle movements of his hands that he seemed a bit jumpy and not exceedingly stable. It seemed that overall the war had not done well for him, and that he may have been somewhat broken from most likely various traumatic events: perhaps suffering from PTSD.

But, his internal dialogue would have to wait as Vail Adance (obviously quite angry now considering how tense his body was and his exhale) starting speaking, asking about the treaty. With that Lindenburgh answered. "The Rannorian Security Forces are as they imply: for the security of the Rannorian State," Lindenburgh spoke bluntly, with little to no emotion, as well as quite quickly, "We in the Western League feel that Rannoria, after wasting such life during the war in such military blunders, cannot be trusted with its own armed forces for now, yet still requires protection and a force to uphold law in your country,"

"As to League influence in the Security Forces, it should be noted that much of the Rannorian Army was decimated during the war, and many of its officers killed or unfit for duty, meaning that Rannoria lacks a major force of trainers for the new force," "It is of upmost importance to the League that Rannoria is well protected and that her armed forces are untainted by the horrors which many veterans experienced during the 9-Year-War and up to standards to enforce law and protect Rannoria, and the best way to keep up those standards is to allow experienced militarymen to train those security forces, notably Western League officers, since i'm sure the rest of your friends are busy with their own problems after losing the war,"

"Heavy artillery would not be necessary, rest assured you are protected on all sides by the League, if any foreign power were to attempt to attack you the League would speedily react with our own armies and crush them," "The artillery and arms we already allow you to retain should be enough to hold off against any incursion till League Forces arrive,"

"And of course, if you refuse to sign the document we shall have to reconvene to create new terms, and so the military occupation will continue," Lindenburgh finished, before suddenly seeming to remember something, "Oh yes, and if you don't sign it not only will the occupation continue, but Rannoria shall not recieve the humanitarian aid it desparately needs, and with your allies reeling from the war, we're the only ones you can stably rely on for such aid"

"The choice is yours, your Grand"