Agrarian Cleansing (Closed, Greater Dienstad)

[Mokastana]

A small town between San Thomas and Liberia
Nicaro and Firmador
Present Day

"I would like to welcome everyone to the grand opening of the 8th, yes 8th, Tchernova School for Public Educacion."

The beautiful local women cut the ribbon and clapped politely, smiling as the representative of the Tchernova Foundation continued on with her heartfelt speech. Everyone clapped in support of the large donations to public education and safety made by the Tsarina Foundation. Cameras and news crews recorded the events for this evenings top stories. Everyone loved a feel good piece about the rebuilding of Nicaro and Firmador, schools promised future, and a place for kids to be safe. The armed guards with rifles outside the school were still a necessary but the growing Imperial forces were cleaning up most of the rift raft still active in the eastern parts of the country. However, among the cameras and celebrations, the champagne and verbal pats on the back, there was one person strangely missing, the founder of the Tchernova Foundation. She never did like to be on camera for these kinds of things.

Instead, on the way home she stopped by the 2nd school she founded, one already open and teaching. Staying at a distance with her bodyguards, she listened to the sounds of children playing outside. She was happy knowing they were being fed,educated, and most of all safe. A tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled, whatever fate had in store for her, she could at least say she would die after doing some good in the world.

It had been Hans Wagner's idea to invest drug money into local businesses and passion projects. In other countries it would be considered money laundering, but here, and maybe Mokastana, it was just diversifying assets. If the drug business ever fell, the Tchernova Foundation would live on. Hans called it good PR, but he knew the Tsarina needed to see something good from her works, and a happy boss is a good boss. The bonus that came later was also a plus.

At the founder's side was her husband, an older man also from Zvezda, Vladimir Smirnov. He had been her Police Chief, and security manager. Now he was officially retired, but often did consulting with everyone from local police to militias. These days, most of his work was more negotiating deals and using his networking, than actual security work. He had poor people skills, but he knew enough people to be useful.

Sometime in the last few years, Fetch, her Mokan government contact, had returned to Mokastana for reassignment. The PUF had no more need for her when they pulled out of Krasnova. Meaning Federal assets were pulled from her supply. The other Mokan she had formerly hired, Hector ‘Carrion’ Moldova, had originally been her weapon supplier. These days he had his own import and export business. Relations were still good between Carrion and the Tsarina, just more business than anything else.

Back in the SUVs heading for home, “Tsarina” Sasha Tchernova and her convoy passed an Imperial checkpoint, a growing common site in rural Nicaro. Her armies were shrinking as Imperial power grew, but she didn't mind. If anything, it would be nice to be nothing more than a wealthy woman in a stable country. She could live with a boring future like that.


City of Tarn
Mercenary Capitol of Greater Dienstad
Present Day

Unfortunately for the Tsarina, not every woman was content to sit on their riches and open schools. Some desired power and prestige, both of which were hurt when recreational sales in Macabees took a dive from growing production in Nicaro. Mokan drugs were still top tier, but the free market was a fickle bitch. The only fickle bitch Arianna Lomengo was willing to tolerate was herself. Which is why she now found herself in an armored convoy driving through the streets of Tarn. Of course, here, armored convoys were the norm.

It had been difficult for Arianna Lomengo to maintain communication with the Ordenites. After their war with The Golden Throne their embassy in Fedala had become nearly inaccessible, if it was even still there anymore. While they did reopen one in the People's Unified Federation, merely looking at it caused Federal agents to investigate everything you had ever done in your life. Arianna was already on a few watch lists for daring to invite the ambassador to her wedding, so it was no doubt that Federal agents were watching her at most times. At least thank you card she sent to the Ordenite Embassy regarding the wedding had not been torn apart. Mostly because it had included means of communication. Either way, Federal agents were no doubt investing her, building a file on the great Arianna Lomengo, deciding if she was worth the cost of bringing in. For now, the answer was no, which is why she was pushing hard to finish this side job before returning to Mokastana for some family business.

Here it was, Freikorps, the place the Ordenites would meet with her. Once safely inside their parking garage,Arianna remained in the tinted vehicle as her representative stepped out to have the actual meeting. Arianna's presence was mostly because she didn't trust the suitcase containing the virus to leave her possession until she was right here. This was, by all accounts, terrorism, and supplying biological weapons for terrorism was a major crime no matter what government came in. At least she could trust the Ordenites to have a grudge against her intended target as well. Besides, it was difficult these days to find mercenaries with no regard to moral dilemmas. To many had morality clauses or 'standards'. It was nice to see proper business for a change.

[United World Order]

Freikorps Hugen Compound,
City of Tarn, Holy Panooly.

Freikorps Hugen the primary source of Ordenite based mercenaries in the PMC business within Greater Dienstad wholly operated out of the region's PMC capital of Tarn. Over sixty thousand personnel called the Freikorps compound home as the entire compound its self was essentially a enlarged military style base. The entire perimeter was enclosed by a stone wall in which behind it was further surrounded by Hesco bastions which lined the walls of the compound. In each corner stood a guard tower occupied by a pair of Freikorps personnel who were part of the compound's security force for the entire compound. The main entry point of the compound which composed of a guard house with additional security personnel in which with heightened tensions with the Golden Throne due to the outbreak of war, security had been beefed exponentially. The security situation was considered serious enough that actual contractors that had yet to be assigned to on-going contracts were put into the security detail. Within the compound was very much like a conventional military base with rows of barracks in which the contractors lived along with other facilities necessary to support them and their operations when on contracts.

The expected arrival of a representative of Arianna Lomengo who however is part of Montana Inc but has maintained cordial business relations with the Reich opened the door for her in acquiring the services of Freikorps Hugen. The Freikorps have maintained a history of being one of the most controversial PMCs in Greater Dienstad due to operating strictly under business and having little to no moral stature involved in the contracts they take. From warlords to corporate entities the Freikorps will take almost any contract so long as it does not interfere with Ordenite interests in the Reich, it's mother country. The arrival of the Lomengo armored convoy was marked at the entry point by several of the compound's security detail who after confirming the identity and purpose of the convoy were allowed to drive in and directed towards a parking garage. The representative would then be escorted by a small security detail to the main administration building of the compound where she or he would be led to the office of SS-Gruppenfuhrer and Generalleutnant Martin Slesinger.

[Mokastana]

Office of SS-Gruppenfuhrer/Generalleutnant Martin Slesinger.
Freikorps Hugen Compound,
City of Tarn, Holy Panooly

Arianna's agent walked through the appropriate checkpoints and searches. Besides the service weapon confiscated and contract documents, very little was present on the agent. After all, both sides took this negation seriously. Although the contract would be difficult to enforce in any international court, the signature of Generalleutnant Martin Slesinger of the
Freikorps Hugen would be evidence that Freikorps had taken the deal. It was one thing to be a mercenary without morals, that was the business after all, but it was another to betray a customer. Very few people would be willing to hire mercenaries with that kind of reputation. Besides, the agent knew if anything went wrong, Arianna and Montana would claim he acted alone. He was the scapegoat, but he was paid well for keeping his feet over the coals.

Once in the meeting, the agent extended the usual greetings, giving his operational name, Juan Kaji. Looking over the Generalleutnant and anyone else in the room, he began:

"Gentlemen, let me cut to the chase. My employer is looking to hire you to infiltrate Nicaro, expose various crops to their matching diseases, but only at specific locations around the county, and make it look natural. If it looks like sabotage, the crops will be investigated, and the viruses won't spread.

Once you've placed them all, if someone else wants to pay you to destroy things in Nicaro after our operation is finished, or you want to rob a few banks for some extra cash, by all means take the money. We have a way for you to get into the country, but getting out is up for negotiation.

Given this is technically eco terrorism, the payment will match the risks, and discretion. Again, it is important these bio weapons are released without the local authorities knowing. Are you still in?"

[United World Order]

Martin Slesinger mulled over the details of the contract that the Lomengo representative had presented to him. Only a few seconds were needed before his mind was made up that they would take the contract and fulfill the desires of the Lomengo's against their rivals in the Tsarina Cartel, a organization that the Ordenite Reich had much of a score to settle with.

"We accept your offer. The diseases will be released without tipping off the authorities. A team will be assembled and briefed on the nature of this contract and what needs to be done."

[Mokastana]

"We accept your offer. The diseases will be released without tipping off the authorities. A team will be assembled and briefed on the nature of this contract and what needs to be done."

"Wonderful, wonderful. Well let's make some money!"


Off the coast of Liberia,Firmador
A few days later

The ship was basic, more for freight than comfort, but the few passengers on board had been approved to enter Firmador. Most were part of a team from Montana Inc to look for new investments and opportunities. They had even been cleared to carry weapons, as their employer cared deeply about their safety. However, one would find it unusual that the investigation team from Motokata, with names like Tsu, Edo, and Tanaka, would appear more caucasian than Motokatan. Of course, there were ethnic caucasians in Motokata, but they were more uncommon than not.

The Montana Incorporated team from Motokata was originally made up of the best financial and security people in the entire Motakata branch, hand picked by the President of the branch himself, Pedro Vicente. If Arianna Lomengo had anyone she could call a rival in the multinational financial empire of Montana Inc, it was Pedro. Pedro knew that, and therefore was scouting for additional revenue sources, ones that would make him even more influential than Arianna. Needless to say, this was something Arianna Lomengo could not allow.

The people handpicked by Pedro, the ones who shook his hand and accepted the Firmador job, were not the same people on the boat heading for Firmador. Eventually they would be reported missing, but until then, the Germanic looking Motokatans arrived as scheduled, checking in their approved gear and sample equipment, only to disappear into the Firmador countryside.


Coastal Palace of the Tsarina
Liberia, Firmador

Sasha hated the heat, the tropical humidity, the bugs, and the abusive sun of this place. It was why she stayed indoors most times, but sometimes, late at night, she went out on her balcony. Her balcony was covered with a mosquito net, keeping the bugs out but letting the sea air in. It used to be peaceful, but the city had prospered under her, and Imperial, leadership. The docks were alive at all hours, the sounds of the city bustling grew with each passing month. Prosperity and peace had come at last.

She felt a hand on her lower back as her husband, Vladimir Smirnov, came up behind her.

"Beautiful night." He said softly.

"It's loud and humid," she complained as she nestled into his chest, letting him hold her close. "Do you think the Imperial Government would care if we just moved elsewhere?"

"Where would we move to?" Vladimir smiled, entertaining the thought absentmindedly.

"Someplace cooler, like home, but not Red Star Union."

"Oh, you don't want to try Mokastana, I'm sure they'd love you."

"I'm sure they have a price on my head. Let's not make it that easy on them."

"I hear Macabees is nice." Vladimir suggested.

"Nooo, I'm tired of Greater Dienstad and it's wars and politics. It's too warm, too difficult to stay out of trouble…"

"Alright, how about Monavia? It's far enough for our rainy day fund, why not a back up house?"

"Monavia?" Sasha looked up at her husband, curious.

"Yes, we flew there a couple years back to set up a safety fund of a few million. I don't remember why, but it was a pretty country. Beautiful mountains, what were they called… the Perkele mountains?"

"The Prokletje Mountains," Sasha remembered, "and we set up the funds there, because they have a firm don't ask policy when it comes to money, and most nations accept Thalers in currency exchanges. The bank we picked has branches all across Greater Dienstad. We should move there. It seems safe."

"Aren't they a friend of Mokastana? Wouldn't the cartels send a team after you there?"

"We have enough money to buy security. Or new identities."

"Wait, are you serious?" Her husband finally registered the discussion they had been having, "you would leave all this behind?"

"I'm tired Vlad, the Imperial government wants total control of this area, the Mokans want to burn it all down. The Ordenites want to kill me. And everyone around here only supports me because I'm the despot of the month." She looked off into the darkness, "I was supposed to die a long time ago, in Yukar. A fascist terrorist decided to car bomb a police station. I was across the street, and I woke up in the hospital a day later. No idea why I survived when others around me didn't. Four months later, Yukar fell to the Fascists. For all I know, I died that day and this is my penance for not believing in God. All I know is, when I finally die, I want to be in the mountains."

"When the mercenaries took Vostok, we knew it was the end. We were defending a corpse by that point. The only way I could save my men and their families was to turn to you, the Tsarina. Thanks to you, hundreds of families that would have been killed by the Fascists escaped Red Star. You've saved many, and you're saving more here.

Tomorrow we'll book a flight to Monavia, put more funds in the emergency accounts, and maybe buy a retirement home in a quiet village in the Prokletje Mountains."

"That sounds nice"

[The Macabees]

LIBERIA, PREFECTATURA DE FIRMADOR



"You will most certainly go tonight, Antonio," said the Macabéan man with aquamarine eyes. "Your presence at the function is imperative. The pendulum of politics in San Juanas and Meneciapres is swinging to the other side and it is important that we know the candidates who most certainly fill the vacuum. Indeed, you must not only know them but continue to facilitate the distribution of imperial capital to those who move the public economy."

Antonio wanted to sigh but he contained himself and instead said, "You know I hate these things, Frogeder. They're so fake, it's disgusting."

"Let the politicians play their game," replied the Macabéan named Frogeder. "We will play ours."

"I never quite was sure why you need me," answered the Nicaroan, changing the subject. "Imperial money is welcomed here. Most of the people I go into business with on your behalf would most willingly deal directly with you. Or, your people. Why me? How do I fit the picture? You don't need a middle man."

Antonio knew why he did it. He knew why he took orders from Frogeder and why he was helping the Macabéan "diplomat" to grow the empire's tendrils. "Antonio Salgado" was a household name thanks to Frogeder, his money, and his political pull. That's why Antonio was conde de financias in Liberia, the man who controlled the outflows of the city's public spending. This spending included private investments, such as roads, monuments, schools, hospitals, and so much more in the way of infrastructure. Liberia commanded a large budget, at least for a major Nicaroan city, and it was growing at a rapid pace as peace came within the condado of which the city was the capital.

"Because it is important that a large chunk of the investments are representative of the city's government and its commitment to the imperial federation. That is the larger political body to which Liberia, and all of Nicaro, belong, of course. And it's vital that our unity is communicated via our cooperation in our beautification and improvement of this city. The empire seeks to earn the loyalty of the Nicaroan people because ultimately the only thing it really wants here is stability. Stability over its watch, of course. But the result is a Nicaro that is safer, richer, and better for its people," answered Frogeder.

"You want me to believe this is all charity?" scoffed Antonio.

"Charity?" asked Frogeder, curiously. "This isn't charity, my dear Antonio. At-risk is the potential hundreds of billions of ríokmarks that this country represents to the empire in terms of tributary revenue. Not to mention the private interests of the capitalists who have flocked to Nicaro seeking economic opportunity. And economic opportunity flowers where there is peace."

Antonio peered at the Macabéan. There were two types of Nicaroans: those who thought that answering to an emperor was not so bad in exchange for peace and those who thought war preferable to subservience. He was one of the former, although sometimes he felt pangs of the latter run through his body. This was one of those times. It was known that the imperial tribute on Nicaro was staggering. Fedala had bills to pay, the war in Gholgoth, for one. But, the tributary rate was a point a contention that would come to a head sooner or later. Neither was it the only point of contention. The other was the vast lands automatically bequeathed to His Imperial Majesty's estate upon signing of the satrapical agreement. Most of this land had already been sold to private companies from throughout the world, but most especially Macabéan buyers looking to invest in the newly opened market. But, this land had once belonged to one Nicaroan or another, and these old owners were not all dead. Despite having been technically agreed upon by signing the Treaty of Matagalpa which defined the Satrapy of Nicaro as a subject ally of the Golden Throne, that agreement amounted to little more than a signature on a piece of paper in the grand scheme of things.

But, the limitless sums of capital that flowed through imperial channels back into Nicaro more than made up for these injustices for the time being. At least, Antonio believed so and that was why he stood there compelled to follow the Macabéan's instruction to attend the LBC Gala that night.

"Okay," he said, "I make money, you make money, I get it. And you want me to go to the gala to make sure this system continues to run smoothly once we take the Tsarina out of the picture."

Frogeder nodded. "There's one more thing I'd like you to do for me. The guerillas who had laid down their arms when we had first agreed to cooperate with the Tsarina are undoubtedly still in her payroll. They still have their weapons. And many Nicaroan men are looking for better work, always willing to earn a little more for a local politician looking to build himself a private army. I need you to poke about and see what you can learn, whether if any of those fat cats at the gala are moving money into the informal marabuntas in the county."

"Are you expecting some sort of trouble from the guerrilleros?" I thought that problem had been sorted out.

"Sorted out?" asked Frogeder. "It hasn't even been three years since this agreement with the Tsarina was made. This world we live in is still fresh, unstable, and ready to implode if the ground beneath it is unstable. Do you understand that? That's why you are so important, Antonio. The city and imperial government must look like a united front in the coming troubles."

Antonio peaked an eyebrow and looked at the Macabéan. "The coming troubles?"

"Another corp of limikari has been deployed to the satrapy, headquartered just south of San Tomás. The men were flown in over the past few days, some of their equipment is still arriving. I was only made privy to it this morning," said the Macabéan. "The military didn't want to startle anyone with the sudden surge. They're stressing that it is nothing more than the long-promised bolstering of the empire's defensive ground power."

"So what's the problem?" asked the Nicaroan.

"These are limikari, not ejermacht. They are internal security forces meant for counterinsurgency and peacekeeping, not a conventional ground war against a foreign invader," the other man answered. "And they have been headquartered around San Tomás, not Managua. They must expect an outbreak of fighting once the Tsarina is removed from the picture."

"What's your guys' problem with her, anyway?" he inquired.

The Macabéan shrugged. "She has outlived her usefulness to the empire and her programs of public expenditure are in competition with ours. It is important that there be only one dominant benefactor of the Nicaroan people, and that must be a governmental front united under the banner of the imperial federation. Right now, that is the single most important political objective in this country other than the final pacification of the southern prefecture."

"How are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" asked Frogeder.

"Kill her."

"Kill her?" the Macabéan balked. "Dear gods, you people are truly barbarians. We're not going to kill her, we're going to buy her out. Retire her. At least, we're going to offer it to her. If she says no, then I suppose we'll kill her. Or, better said, one of your people will kill her and at some point somewhere someone like me got involved with money. But, I don't think it'll come to that. I think the Tsarina is ready for retirement."

"Will she be at the gala tonight?" asked Antonio.

"I'm sure not sure, we shall see," replied the other man.

"So you're going too?"

"Well, of course, Antonio," smiled the Macabéan. "Derego Frogeder must make his appearance at the LBC Gala, it would only be proper of the County Prefect of San Juanas to mingle with the wealthiest people of Liberia. In fact, enough chit chat, we must be getting ready. I'll see you there at seven."

With that, the imperial prefect turned around and left.

[The Macabees]

LIBERIA, PREFECTATURA DE FIRMADOR


The servant gestured them into the back seat of the black sedan of a long, elegant build.

"After you, Sara," said Antonio.

The blonde, beautiful woman smiled and got in. He followed behind her, and the servant closed the door. Nearly silently, the vehicle started moving forward. Electric vehicles had caught on rather quickly among Nicaro's wealthy in the past two years. These cars were in style in the imperial provinces and they had become much cheaper since Nicaro's entry into the imperial federation. It had been more difficult to become accustomed to the autonomous driving, but Antonio found it rather nice to be able to enjoy a drive in the rear seat. Especially when he was sitting next to a beautiful woman.

They turned down a few streets, the tall brick, concrete, and steel buildings of Liberia's political and financial center towering above them. It was not long before they reached the Kapes Mangalo. Six-laned in each direction, with expansive gardens and walkways in the middle, the Mangalo was an expansive and illustrious boulevard that split the city in half.

It had been built quickly, almost all of it in the last year. Parts, here and there, were still under construction. Some of the more elaborate fountains, statues, and monuments were there only in the shape of signs explaining what was to be developed on fenced-off land. Funded entirely by money funneled to the city's treasury by virtue of Prefect Frogeder, the Mangalo was one of the largest public employers in the country, the largest in Liberia by a large margin. Its ambition was beyond the imagination of any Nicaroan. Now, dimmed against the diminishing light of a descending sun, it was somehow all the more majestic and imposing.

Two walkways allowed citizens of the city to stroll down the Mangalo in either direction, walking through lush gardens and flowerbeds decorated with multi-tiered fountains that spouted crystal-clear water. Marble statues of past Nicaroan leaders and famous emperors of the First Empire of the Golden Throne intertwined the political legacy of the satrapy with the imperial federation it was now part of. Trees from foreign lands were brought in and planted, so that local Liberians could stand in wonder of fauna they had never even heard of before. The Kapes Mangalo was simply majestic.

Headed south along the boulevard, they passed under the Triumphal Arch of His Imperial Majesty Jonak I. It was gold-domed, crested by a ferocious open-winged statue of a double-headed imperial eagle. Its four great columns came down on either side of the Kapes Mangalo, as the pavement passed beneath it. Inside, in the middle, there rose a solid gold statue of a seated Jonak I, seated on a high-backed throne and wearing a bejeweled crown. In his right hand, a heavy spear rose straight toward the roof, its butt on the ground by his feet. His left came down to rest at the end of the throne's arm. The emperor looked toward the distance with fierce eyes. The ceiling was beveled and was painted with scenes of local mythology, adopting native beliefs and associating them with imperial power. The architectural feat was always impressive, he could not help but observe it in wonder every time he passed beneath it. Although, they said that there would no rival to the Triumphal Arch of His Imperial Majesty Fedor I that was being constructed on the northern entrance of the Kapes Mangalo.

Directly south of the Triumphal Arch of Jonak I was the neighborhood of Marina Castanoel, the most opulent in all of the city and where Liberia's wealthiest resided. Not even Antonio, the city minister of finance, could afford to live in these parts of Liberia. Expansive estates were equaled in grandeur by the plot of land that they sat on. Some of these homes had stood here for over a century, renovated over the years but still sporting their original styles.

"These mansions are so beautiful," said Sara, her light blue eyes sparkling at the sight of Marina Castanoel's riches.

Smiling, Antonion replied, "Quite so. Wait until you see the one we are going to tonight."

The Kapes Mangalo ended here, and they took other streets until finally arriving at a property that was fenced off by a palisade of tall, thin trees that hid whatever was inside from the outside world. A large metal gate watched over by a servant in a guardhouse opened to let them in. Vast gardens rolled up to the cobblestone-paved driveway that arched around a central fountain like a loop. A servant was waiting for them at the bottom of a marble staircase that led to the broad double-door entrance of the house. The servant opened the door and helped first Antonio, then Sara out. The music and sound of discussion emanated from the interior.

"Please, head inside, Don Giliberto is wating for you, conde," said the servant who had held the car door open for them, gesturing into the tall, arched hallway that took them into the main building of the estate. The home seemed like that of royalty, with gloriously painted ceilings that vaulted down toward buttresses which emerged from the walls. Small statues of the family's ancestors flanked them on either side as they walked down the hall.

There was a banner sign hanging from string that read, "Bienvenidos los Jefes del Consejo Empresarial de Liberia" — Welcome Leaders of the Liberian Business Council.

Beyond the hallway, the house opened into a plentiful atrium which was colonnaded along its outer perimeter. It was long, with a crystal clear blue pool that ran down the length of the middle. Fish of various colors, most probably imported from exotic foreign lands, swam beneath water lilies with roots that extended down to bottom-bolted planters. At the end of the atrium was an open bar, around which were congregated dozens of the city's most illustrious citizens. There were not only capitalists and businessmen, but also the most well-known artists, actors, and writers. This gala was not only an event for the financial elite, but for the cultural elite as well as their patrons were the ones hosting the ball. There were plenty of foreigners, too. Marshite sculpturists, New Imperial architects, and Theohuacan painters. There were, of course, many Macabéans from the provincials, from Díenstad to Ruska, Beda Fromm to Sarcanza. And, of course, there was Derego Frogeder.

The Díenstadi was standing by the war, loudly talking to a group of people by the bar. Antonio looked at him for a moment but then turned to the woman who had come with him. "Sara," he said, "let us talk to some friends of mine, then I will introduce you to some people you will want to know."

Sara Carbella was a known up-and-coming actress, now a model known for her talents outside of her looks. Of course, she was stunningly beautiful too. She had agreed to attend quickly when Antonio had asked her, but everyone who didn't live under a rock in Liberia knew that the LBC Gala was the single most important event amongst the city's elite in the calendar year.

He led her toward Frogeder, who smiled when he saw them coming and turned his attention to them. "Count Salgado, it's good to see you here. I didn't think you'd make it out, to be honest."

Smiling back, Antonio replied, "You as well, Prefect. As for my attendance, how could I miss the most important gala in Liberia?"

"You weren't here last year, Salgado. That's right, you hadn't been invited," said suddenly a grey-haired man standing amongst the group which had been avidly listening to whatever Frogeder was saying before Antonio had come. Some of the younger women with him giggled, although at least they tried to hide their faces. Antonio was an outsider and not all of Liberia's rich liked him.

"True, this is my first invitation," answered Antonio. He looked the rotund man up and down. "I suppose they thought the existing guests to be...stale."

"You will see," said Frogeder, laughing, "that Count Salgado is to become a very important man for this city, Don Coloma. He will oversee its entrance into a golden age."

The two men began talking and then arguing, but Antonio quickly lost pace with them. His focus was instead of scouting the room for who else was in attendance. Which businessmen had come? What other politicians had been invited? Was the Tsarina coming? Was she already here? There were more than a hundred people here, and many of them Antonio wanted to meet.

[Mokastana]

LIBERIA, PREFECTATURA DE FIRMADOR

As Count Salgado stepped away from Frogeder to look for the Tsarina, it would be another Nicaroan who approached him first. An older man with grey hair and a trimmed beard greeted him with a barbed smile, relaxing it only to take a drink of champagne.

"I guess our 'new' masters want to keep us on short leashes, in addition to the puppet strings....Don't make it too obvious that you're here to please the Macabéan." The comment was pointed, but quiet, aimed for Antonio alone. "I don't recognize you from last year, but who is important, and who is not, is always in flux." The man extended a hand, "Don Rojas, but you may call me Esteban. Tonight, I represent the Tsarina, and her interests. Pleasure to meet you."

Esteban Rojas had been the face of the Tsarina's intern civilian government during the transition from warlord to Macabéan control. He had served in the city of San Tomas for a short while, overseeing the highway updates between Liberia and San Tomas before 'conveniently' stepping down as Imperial power grew. Now he worked for the Tsarina directly, as one of her representatives in these kinds of events.


Esteban was not the only friend of the Tsarina present. At the bar, a short, slightly overweight, blonde gentleman by the name of Hans Wagner laughed with a few business associates. He had essentially become the Chief Financial Officer of the Tsarina's organization, but he didn't let the boring aspects of bookkeeping damper his presence. He could easily sway the Tsarina to invest into certain projects, or people, which made his companionship sought after by anyone up and coming. A fact he thoroughly enjoyed.

Elsewhere was another former employee of the Tsarina, but now an independent business owner. Hector Moldova, owner and operator of Condor Freight, a shipping company based out of Liberia, and its sister company, Condor Air Freight. Although he might look Nicaroan to an outsider, he was born and raised in Mokastana. Growing up in the dirt road slums of Lima, he made it big during the drug war scavenging anything of use from destroyed military hardware, after Cartel and government battles. After the Mokan drug war died down, he expanded into Red Star Union, where he met the Tsarina and became her number one provider of military equipment. Of course, under Imperial control such careers were no longer needed, officially, so Moldova went legit, from smuggler to transportation.

Still, there was no sign of the Tsarina herself. Despite always being invited, she almost always preferred to send representatives in her place. There were, however, rumors that the Tsarina rented a room of the house, and if one had a serious enough reason, they could convince her associates to allow them to see her, if need be.

[United World Order]

Outside of Liberia,
Firmadoran countryside.

Several individuals made there way through the dense Firmadoran jungle clad in military fatigues and other equipment that were brought with them. All of them were contracted through the Freikorps organization to complete a contract given by Arianna Lomengo one of the only Montana Inc connections the Ordenite Reich covertly kept. The Freikorps team now in Firmador were composed of Waffen-SS veterans who all once served in the various Krasnovan campaigns and possessed countless years of battle hardness and experience that said team have used in other contracts across Greater Dienstad. The contractors would eventually find their way to a safe house owned by a small family of Nicaroans who politically leaned towards the Ordenite Reich and thus despite the absence of Ordenite influence still held their former allegiances to the Reich despite the flood liberal Macabean influence and wealth. Out of the six members of the current team, one of them would shortly depart in more civilian attire to meet with a influential Nicaroan politician from Saradino in which the two would be attending an important gala. The remaining five members went over their mission and all of it's aspects including how they were going to complete the mission at hand and successfully release the plant virus without bringing any attention to themselves. While still in the dead of night the team would depart the safe house and begin heading towards their target to release the virus.

Liberia, Firmador.

Emil Schäfer sat inside of a modest looking sedan which was driving through the city of Liberia with his destination being a mansion which was hosting a gala on behalf of the Liberian Buisness Council. He had come to Liberia for the gala all the way from Saradino a city that once was the epicenter of the Firmadoran contra government. During that time Emil had worked his way up through the political ladder to become a reputable politician whose name was almost household in today's Nicaroan politics. Much of his rise was attributed to the Ordenite Reich who helped Emil get to his current status in which after the takeover by the Macabeans he was relatively left alone. Emil held much contempt on the Macabeans and the policies they had instilled in helping govern the country, as being a more conservative nationalist in tune more with Ordenite ideology. Despite the fact that Ordenite influence had been severed in the country with the dismantlement of the Contra government, contacts and connections were still maintained covertly. Recently one of his contacts from Berlina had informed him that an operation against the Tsarina Cartel which in Nicaro had their own government. It also listed several names of persons who held certain positions within the Tsarina Cartel and that their identification for the operation was needed to confirm. Emil was also made aware of a mercenary team contracted by Montana Inc through the Freikorps were soon to be in country and among them were two agents from the Ordenite Gestapo and retrospectively the Sicherheitsdienst. Part of the reason Emil Schäfer was going to the LBC gala was due to his companion who was also in the same sedan sitting beside him, who was one of the agents.

Due to his cover credentials he was a Caucasian Motokatan with dirty blonde hair but in reality he was part of the Ordenite Gestapo and would personally see to identifying the team's targets. The sedan would come to a stop outside of the mansion's gates before being let in by a servant. Once the duo left the sedan they would be guided into the mansion and where the gala its self was being hosted, Emil and his Motokatan counterpart peered around at the various guests mingling about the gala. Emil would head towards the bar where he would spot Hans Wagner the CFO of the Tsarina and a very influential person, the Motokatan would also follow Emil to the bar where Wagner was with several others.

"Herr Wagner, A pleasure to meet you here. I've heard plenty about you and your work with the Tsarina." Emil started off giving a forced smile.

[Mokastana]

"Herr Wagner, A pleasure to meet you here. I've heard plenty about you and your work with the Tsarina." Emil started off giving a forced smile.

Hans returned a smile, as he kept an eye on local politics and knew of Emil. What brought this man this far east was certainly a curiosity, but Hans enjoyed when the powerful came to him.

"Senor Schäfer, is it? What brings you all the way to my corner of Firmador?" Hans waved off his associate, clearing a seat for Emil.

"You look like a guy who appreciates a good beer, ever had Bavarier? It's from a small brewery in Mordent, family escaped Ordena in the 30s, been brewing beer ever since. Very hard to get your hands on." Hans turned to the young Nicaroan bartender, "Anna, dos Bavariers, thank you," and back to Emil, "You'll love it. Now, what can I do for you, Senor Schäfer?"

It was rumored that Emil Schäfer was a Nationalist puppet of the Ordenites, so Hans was testing the waters.
Señor instead of Herr, an expensive beer from a family who fled Ordena during the birth of their current regime. Just a few subtle pokes, trying to gauge what he was working with.

[The Macabees]

Derego Frogeder eyed Emil Schäfer, the Sandino politician who was a known Fourth Reich advocate in Firmador, but kept at a distance. There was little love for Schäfer and little interest in attempting to cater to him. Indeed, the prefects in Sandino were lavishly spending on their preferred candidates and Schäfer would find it hard to win the next election. It was frustrating enough to see him still in power at all, but the effects of the anti-Ordenite purge conducted months ago were still being felt and Schäfer was one of the few of his generation left. Derego turned his attention toward Antonio.

The new Liberian minister of finance had been approached by Estebán Rojas, a former politician who Derego was vaguely familiar with. He had served in San Tomás for some time, continuining for a bit after Nicaro's entrance into the imperial federation, but retired before his time. Derego wasn't sure why, but there were rumors that Rojas was involved in the drug game. It was the exactly the type of person who Antonio needed to be talking to, so Derego let him do his thing and instead headed to the bar to grab a drink.

Antonio hadn't noticed Derego at all, instead he was shaking hands with Estebán Rojas. "It is a pleasure to you meet you too, Estebán. You used to work with the city of San Tomás, no?"

"As for the Macabéans," he said, "their leash can indeed very short. Too short, sometimes. But, it is good that I get out once in a while and, I must admit, that it's a leash made of money. Money that has gotten me to where I am today. I'd like to say that at the very least they are interested in our improvement and tolerate our self-expression, but I also admit that the cost of our ultimate freedom is one that not everyone will accept. At the end of the day, I only hope that this rare peace we find ourselves is one that we consolidate for the enjoyment of the next generation. Imperial rule would be a small price to pay, as long as imperial rule is just."

"You mentioned you work for the Tsarina. I know the prefect would like to speak to her. He has some kind of...offer," he said.

[Mokastana]

"It is a pleasure to you meet you too, Estebán. You used to work with the city of San Tomás, no?"

"As for the Macabéans," he said, "their leash can indeed very short. Too short, sometimes. But, it is good that I get out once in a while and, I must admit, that it's a leash made of money. Money that has gotten me to where I am today. I'd like to say that at the very least they are interested in our improvement and tolerate our self-expression, but I also admit that the cost of our ultimate freedom is one that not everyone will accept. At the end of the day, I only hope that this rare peace we find ourselves is one that we consolidate for the enjoyment of the next generation. Imperial rule would be a small price to pay, as long as imperial rule is just."

"You mentioned you work for the Tsarina. I know the prefect would like to speak to her. He has some kind of...offer," he said.

"Yes, in San Tomas I was a representative of the temporary government set up by the Tsarina to maintain peace and order during the transition to Imperial control. As the Imperial government expanded, my role was simply made unnecessary. Instead the Tsarina hired me to be one of her representatives, as she is a very private person. If there are deals to make with the Tsarina, you can present them to me, and I'll pass them along to her.

In regards to Imperial rule, there are benefits to allowing a foreign government to give us the growth and stability our own governments could not grant us. One thing many of the 'nationalist' seem to ignore is that before Tsarina came to Liberia, it was known as the Gente Slave State. A safe haven for slavers across Greater Dienstad to house their 'products'. The Tsarina, a foreigner, did what no local government was willing to do, and eliminated the problem.

As far as I can tell, our sovereignty is a small price to pay for progress, a sentiment shared by the Tsarina as well. She welcomes Imperial rule, both as a provider of stability, and an enemy of Ordenite Fascism."

[The Macabees]

Antonio nodded, "The Tsarina's contribution to Nicaro is unforgettable. We, as a nation and a people, owe her a great debt. Sometimes it's easy to forget the depths we came from, even though it was only two years ago that both our western and eastern coasts were plagued by slavers, pirates, and other criminals seeking to take advantage of the chaos here to do their evil bidding. There is no doubt that her arrival here coincides with their demise."

A waitress passed by then carrying a round platter filled with prepared drinks in front of her. Antonio stopped her politely and grabbed one of the glasses, filled with golden-brown alcohol on the rocks.

"But," he continued, "it seems like her legacy clashes with the image the Golden Throne seeks to sell our people — that only they are willing and able to protect Nicaro from the depredations of the strong, that only their protection can guarantee our peace, stability, and most important of all, our freedom. And, as I must admit, they have done a good job of persuading us of that. When else has Liberia been bathed in such splendor? The Golden Throne turned our city — nay, our country — into a civilization of shanties into one of marble. That image as not just our saviors, but as partners towards a better future, is one they seek to monopolize. Their interest in Nicaro has never been entirely clear, and they are not always as candid as we wish them to be, but I suspect that we form a crucial western pillar in the defense of the imperial mainland. Our country represents a western bulwark that sits along the northeastern path of invasion of central Greater Díenstad and they cannot risk the competition against their hegemony over such a strategic piece of real estate. That is my theory, at least."

He took a sip of his beverage, allowing himself to appreciate the taste of the alcohol. "Anyway, in a world where only one savior can remain standing in Nicaro, where does that leave the Tsarina? I imagine that it is because of her contribution to our country and her importance among our people, especially the poor, that Prefect Frogeder informed me that the Imperial Bureaucracy in Nicaro seeks to extend her the offer of a retirement — one in which she is paid out, given her fair due. I don't know the details of their offer, but I imagine it's one worth listening to."

"How do you suspect she'd respond to such an offer?" Antonio asked.

[Mokastana]

"The Tsarina's contribution to Nicaro is unforgettable. We, as a nation and a people, owe her a great debt. Sometimes it's easy to forget the depths we came from, even though it was only two years ago that both our western and eastern coasts were plagued by slavers, pirates, and other criminals seeking to take advantage of the chaos here to do their evil bidding. There is no doubt that her arrival here coincides with their demise."

"But, it seems like her legacy clashes with the image the Golden Throne seeks to sell our people — that only they are willing and able to protect Nicaro from the depredations of the strong, that only their protection can guarantee our peace, stability, and most important of all, our freedom. And, as I must admit, they have done a good job of persuading us of that. When else has Liberia been bathed in such splendor? The Golden Throne turned our city — nay, our country — into a civilization of shanties into one of marble. That image as not just our saviors, but as partners towards a better future, is one they seek to monopolize. Their interest in Nicaro has never been entirely clear, and they are not always as candid as we wish them to be, but I suspect that we form a crucial western pillar in the defense of the imperial mainland. Our country represents a western bulwark that sits along the northeastern path of invasion of central Greater Díenstad and they cannot risk the competition against their hegemony over such a strategic piece of real estate. That is my theory, at least."

"Anyway, in a world where only one savior can remain standing in Nicaro, where does that leave the Tsarina? I imagine that it is because of her contribution to our country and her importance among our people, especially the poor, that Prefect Frogeder informed me that the Imperial Bureaucracy in Nicaro seeks to extend her the offer of a retirement — one in which she is paid out, given her fair due. I don't know the details of their offer, but I imagine it's one worth listening to."

"How do you suspect she'd respond to such an offer?"

Esteban Rojas listened intently, his senses sharpening as Antonio spoke. So here it is as last, he thought to himself. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Macabeans made a play to be the sole providers of order and stability. The Tsarina's forces only wondered if it was going to be a buyout, or by force? It seemed the answer was finally here.

Esteban scratched his chin and looked like he was in deep thought for a few seconds, before responding carefully:

"The Tsarina would have to hear such an offer herself. But, as someone with a vested interest in her wellbeing, I am afraid I must ask, what if she refuses to retire? No one here is unfamiliar with how the Macabeans handle threats to their rule, but the Tsarina is loyal to the Empire. I would like to believe our masters would not bite their own tail trying to catch it.

"That said, such an offer, and response, are beyond our abilities to make. Have Prefect Frogeder meet me in the smoking room on the second floor in 10 minutes, and I'll make sure the Tsarina gets his offer."

With that last request, Esteban turned towards the hallway, and disappeared into the house. He approached a guard, nodding slightly, before continuing his walk. Five minutes later, he entered the Smoking Room to find the Tsarina's translator and secretary, Laura Kruger, waiting for him. Laura was a conventionally pretty woman, with obvious ordenite roots much like Hans downstairs. In her hand, a thin nicaro cigarillo.

"So you have a deal that requires the Tsarina's approval to make, who this time?" She started.

"Prefect Frogeder, wishes to offer the Tsarina a 'retirement package', no doubt with all the implications expected."

A look of worry crossed Laura's face as those words were spoken. Taking a second to puff on her cigar and calm her nerves, she responded: "Por supuesto. It was only a matter of time, that case. Wasn't it? Alright, you know the drill, knock on the door, I'll open it and he can come in. I'll inform the Tsarina."

When Prefect Frogeder arrived, Esteban would greet him ask if he had the details for the retirement package he was offering, and then explain he cannot make such a deal, but he wouldn't have to. The smoking room led to a small office that once Esteban knocked on the door. A young blonde woman opened it, two guards in bulging suits waited inside, and behind the desk, an older thin woman with graying auburn hair sat, scar tissue stretched down the left side of her face and neck, perpetually pale compared to the sunkissed slavic skin on her right side.
A simple black business dress and grey jacket covered her frame.

She looked up and in a raspy voice spoke in broken Spanish: "You have deal for me?"

[United World Order]

Hans returned a smile, as he kept an eye on local politics and knew of Emil. What brought this man this far east was certainly a curiosity, but Hans enjoyed when the powerful came to him.

"Senor Schäfer, is it? What brings you all the way to my corner of Firmador?" Hans waved off his associate, clearing a seat for Emil.

"You look like a guy who appreciates a good beer, ever had Bavarier? It's from a small brewery in Mordent, family escaped Ordena in the 30s, been brewing beer ever since. Very hard to get your hands on." Hans turned to the young Nicaroan bartender, "Anna, dos Bavariers, thank you," and back to Emil, "You'll love it. Now, what can I do for you, Senor Schäfer?"

It was rumored that Emil Schäfer was a Nationalist puppet of the Ordenites, so Hans was testing the waters.
Señor instead of Herr, an expensive beer from a family who fled Ordena during the birth of their current regime. Just a few subtle pokes, trying to gauge what he was working with.

"A business venture, Herr Wagner" Schafer said not appearing phased by the subtle pokes that he was trying to pull. "Something that could benefit the both of us out here in Firmador."

[Mokastana]

"A business venture, Herr Wagner" Schafer said not appearing phased by the subtle pokes that he was trying to pull. "Something that could benefit the both of us out here in Firmador."

"A business venture? Must be something good if you're coming all the way over here. I imagine it has something to do with your friend over here? Would they like a beer as well?"

Hans motioned to the other Ordenite, unaware of the Gestapo agents cover, or intent. If the agent gave off any hostile vibes, they would be lost on Hans as he took the two beers from the bartender, and ordered a third for Schafer's "friend".

[Mokastana]

EPILOGUE


Cafe Ole
Savannah, Timocratic Republic

As Montana Inc expanded into the Timocratic Republic, their imported employees brought their home culture with them. Soon cafes, fashion boutiques and restaurants popped to cater to this new market. Cafe Ole was one of these businesses, a high class cafe catering to Montana Executives, with personal staff for each patron, handmade baked goods made with freshly flown in ingredients from the homeland, and the finest Mokan coffee this side of Lyras.

Walking into Cafe Ole was a woman that looked nothing like the sun kissed clientele and staff. What little tan her pale skin could maintain only highlighted the scar tissue stretching from her hairline down the left side of her face and passed her neck, stopping somewhere past the collar of her brown fleece jacket. What remained of her auburn hair might have hid some of the scars from a distance, but up close, in this cafe, everyone saw them clear as day.

The scars, sunken cheeks, and deep lines of her face told a story of a woman who had lived a dozen lifetimes, many of them harsh and unforgiving. Yet she stood up straight and walked confidently. She cared not about facing death once more, if anything she was hopeful for it to be the final visit. Technically the invitation had been one of a business meeting, but she knew better. They had tried to take everything from her, and this would be the final bullet.

When she finally spoke, her voice carried the stress and gravel only compared to lifelong smokers, a result of exposure to a dangerous biological weapon. The woman once known as "The Tsarina" spoke to the barista behind the bar in broken Mokan phrases:

"I am here...for Arianna."

Upstairs in a private suite of Cafe Ole sat one of the most powerful people in Montana Incorporated, and a rising star in the Diestani world, Arianna Lomengo. A Surian by birth, her wavy dark hair, high cheekbones, and olive complexion made it clear she was from Mokastana. Her business suit was impeccably fitted to her form, tailored to her exact specifications at a price that most would consider unnecessary, but extravagance was a sign of power among Surian culture, and Arianna wanted everyone to know her power. The buttons of her vest and jacket were made of Palladium, adorned with gold designs and studded with blue garnet. She could have picked a more expensive stone, but Blue was the color of House Lomengo. What additional jewelry she wore was made of similarly expensive materials designed by only the most skilled Macabean smiths, all by hand of course.

This was Arianna's chance to take control of the Dienstani cocaine trade in one smooth strike. Nicaro and Firmador were newly acquired colonies of the Golden Throne and a rising producer of competitive products owned by a woman known as the Tsarina. Fortunately, and possibly even intentionally, a crop disease had hit the small country, and destroyed their coca production. It didn't take long before enemies of the Tsarina smelled the blood in the water and took their shots, many literally, against her. People died, and with the Tsarina on the ropes, Arianna knew it was time to offer her a deal she couldn't refuse.

Arianna watched as the door to the private suite opened and her first reaction to seeing the Tsarina's mangled face for the first time was open disgust for such a mutilated creature. Was THIS the infamous Tsarina? The woman who broke the backs of the international drug trade west of Krasnova, and brought the Mokan Cartels to their knees? who burned down the slavers of Nicaro and Firmador and built an empire on their still warm ashes? Still, Arianna was no fool, despite her first instinct, she saw the soulless determination in those eyes. The Tsarina’s wealth could have easily paid for a plastic surgeon to fix those scars, keeping them had been a conscious decision. The Tsarina wanted the world to know others had tried to kill her, and failed.

Arianna composed herself, realizing her opponent was far beyond simple mockery, and invited the Tsarina to sit across from her at the table. Speaking in the international language of Stevidian, Arianna began.

“Thank ju for joining me, Sareena, forgive my reaccion, moss people I see everyday are, well, not ju.”

The Tsarina said nothing but sat down, looking at the extravagantly dressed aristocrat across from her. This 30 something year old child had, through connections only Montana Incorporated could have conducted, managed to get a message to her in hiding, secure an airport in Nicaro, and clear her a direct flight to the Timocratic Republic, all for a sit down meeting. The Tsarina wondered if this kid was also behind the deaths of her people.
Her eyes narrowed as she waited for the pompous Mokan to speak.

Arianna recognized the Tsarina's hostility, and decided to fill the silence by bringing up the clear elephant in the room.

"I am truly sorry for de loss of jor people, Sareena, especially jor husband. It was a chame what 'appened."

"Did you order the killing?"

The look in the Tsarina's eyes didn't change at all. If her last act on earth was being gunned down while trying to jump over this table, grabbing a pen, and attempting to perforate this rich girl's throat, then so be it.

"No, et wasn' me. I'll admit, I've ordered de deaths of people before, but jor 'usband, jor employees, not my work."

"Then who?"

"I do not know Sareena, not yet. I may 'ave invited ju to profit off of jor misfortune, but I only want jor property, not jor life. Jor current, ee next few jears worth of crops are ruined by whatever pestilence 'as passed through jor lands. Montana Incorporated wants to buy jor property for... nearly it's worth pre pestilence, ee... simply, own the Nicaroan coca trade. Then we'll find out if yor enemies are jor own, or if dey 'ate all drug dealers."

"Find me my husband's killer, and I'll sell you the property for whatever price you want."

"I cannot do that, I am afraid." Arianna responded honestly, "Jor farm hands, jor employees, dey need food on deir tables. Jor crops are dead, de 'ole colony's coca supply 'as dried up. Montana Incorporated will keep dem employed ee keep dem fed, while we bring in disease resistant crops of our design. I canno' spen' time looking for jor husband's killer. What I can offer you, is a value of 50 billion Ríokmarks a jear for eight jears, with 100 billion paid up front. Ju can use dat money to hire all the mercenaries ee investigators ju want. Find jor 'usband's killer y 'unt dem down, without trying to manage a business or take care of people."

Arianna slid the contract over to Sasha, who glanced at it, before she looked up into Arianna's eyes. Arianna saw nothing in those eyes, no fear, no joy, no concern, just the raw determination of a woman with a goal.

"Have you ever lost anyone, Arianna Lomengo?"

The question caught Arianna off guard, but she'd play along to get the paperwork signed.

"A few older relatives, but -"

"Not a husband, not a child?"

"No, I 'ave not. I cannot feel jor grief, but I can offer-"

Sasha interrupted Arianna's words again, her voice restraining the bloodlust behind it.
"Then pray you never have to, Arianna Lomengo. I've seen death, I've met death many times over. You're a fucking spoiled child playing at a game. I will take your money. I will hunt down the killers of my husband. I will hunt down anyone associated with them. I have seen your work in Krasnova, in the UESS. Do not think me a fool. If you are involved, I will come for you. Comprende?"

Arianna smiled at the threat, the creature in front of her had a goal, and Arianna had guessed it correctly. By the end of the day, she would have her farms. Words were meaningless if not backed by action. Besides, the Tsarina had lost a lot, Arianna could forgive a meaningless outburst.

"Ju know my work, because I wan' people to know my work. The UESS stole from me, so I stole from dem. I want people to know what I've done. If I paid to 'ave jor people killed, ju would already know about it. Ju would be dead in a ditch, ee I'd be buying up jor empire piecemeal as it tore itself apart."

For the first time, Sasha smiled back, welcoming the threat of blood between them. She signed the documents and leaned back in her chair.

"Now what Arianna Lomengo?"

"Now, ju can go back to jor 'otel, we will send a car to pick ju up in the morning. From dere we fly out to Fedala to finish up the transition of ownerchip. Den, we never see each other again."

"Agreed, Arianna Lomengo."

Later that night, the former Tsarina Sasha Tchernova sat down on the luxury mattress of a penthouse sweet in Savannah. Next to her lay her old friend, Laura Kruger. Once her secretary and translator, now her only true ally left in the world. Laura had been picked up by the Tsarina when she liberated the Slaver town of Liberia, a former slave kept around for her intelligence and translation abilities. She had been freed by the Tsarina, owing the woman her life. Now she stuck by her rescuer till the end.

Sasha's former gun runner and logistics contractor when they went legal, Hector Moldova, saw which way the winds were going after Hans Wagner was killed. He fled the nation, slowly selling off assets in Nicaro until he only owned a few planes and airstrips, the only thing that brought him back to Nicaro was that Arianna paid him a ridiculous fee to be the pilot escorting Sasha to the Timocratic Republic. After that flight towards what Sasha believed to be certain death, they agreed to part ways forever.

Everyone else was dead. Hans Wagner, her CFO was killed by what looked like a highly trained and coordinated attack on his private motorcade. Esteban Rojas, her lobbyist with the Macabean government, had been gunned down in the street while visiting a relative.

Lastly, was her former husband, Vladimir Smirnov. When the assassins broke into the Tsarina's compound, it had been Vladimir's bladder that spoiled the assassination attempt. Choosing to leave the master bedroom, instead of using the in suite toilet, he and a guard stumbled upon the attackers by chance. They were quickly dispatched, but the kill was messy, and caused enough ruckus for the rest of the security to respond. The Tsarina fled into the night, and waited in hiding until this Lomengo found her.

Once again, the Tsarina was left alive by death's swift hand, and was given a chance to build something new from the ashes of her old life. If death kept ignoring her, then perhaps, it was time to get deaths attention herself.