The Ides of March [IC|MT|COMPLETED]

[Demesetelis]

Installation 23
Skybone Mountain Range
The 14th of June, 1997

A computer monitor hums to life, automatically triggered by a pressure sensor buried under a desert road. A grainy video feed shows a tan Jeep roaring down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust as it drives. The man sat in front of this monitor hits a white blinking button and silences the alarm. He stands from his chair, adjusts his military uniform, and steps outside of the checkpoint door. The Grand Ole Sultan Bilal Demesetelis arrives at the checkpoint five minutes later. Pulling up to the gate, the limo tinted window rolls down and the Sultan pops his head out. "Good afternoon Cas, busy day?".

"Yes sir," Cas bows to the Sultan, than continues. "The family has been in and out all day, making sure the finishing touches are just as ordered. You just missed Caane, he took off about an hour ago to go hike up the mountain with Caleb, said something about double checking the air intakes.

"What are the busses for?" The sultan asks, looking past the gate at 3 dark green busses. He had seen these types of busses on his military bases before, but these had their windows painted over.

Cas noticeably pales, stammering his response. "Oh, uh your brother Baqa brought those. He is taking the construction workers back across the border. Th-they have been living here for four years now, I am sure they are excited to get back home." His eyes suddenly unable to meet the sultan's.

"Interesting.." The sultan wonders what Cas knows. His brother Baqa is a scary man, even to junior members of the family. Being head of the military's secret police does not earn you many friends. Even so, Cas is unusually pale.

At that moment Amir Demesetelis, a spry man of 80, calls out Bilal's name from across the parking lot, and gestures for him to come and park.

"Well, your grandfather is calling me. Have fun monitoring the cacti Cas." With a wave the sultan drives into the lot, pulling into a spot next to Amir's Jaguar. "Uncle Amir!" Exclaims the sultan. "I had a hard time getting up here with my four wheel drive, how the hell did you make it in the Jag?"

"Because I actually know how to drive, Bilal. I did doughnuts around snipers nests in my tank during the war, a dirt road is nothing!" He chuckles. "Come, I'll give you the full tour now that everything has been completed."

The two men walked from their cars up to a metal door the size of a small house set into the base of the mountain. A wave of cool air washes over them as they step into the facility designed to be the last bastion of the Demesetelian family.

"When was the last time you were in here Bilal?"

"Back in February, it looks so much different now that all of the fixtures are in."

"Yes, it looks like a true fortress now. To the right is first aid and next to it is Security Station Beta." He steps up to a platform similar to a subway in the center of the room and presses a button on the console to his right. "The tram takes us from the entry down into the bunker proper in less than three minutes, quite speedy for such a long distance."

"And if the tram is down?"

"There are many escape tunnels throughout the facility, most of which lead to that security station. Each level has its own access, but trust me, you do not want to be climbing all those ladders if you do not have to."

A scraping metal sound announced the arrival of the tram. "Can't they oil that thing Amir? You spent billions on a bunker that breaks our eardrums every time we enter and exit it?"

"Do not be such a baby. If we ever have to use this bunker the sound of bombs will most definitely drown out the squeaking." Climbing on to the tram, Amir sits and unfolds a map of the base. "27 floors, with amenities ranging from an olympic swimming pool to a full government command center. If anything was to threaten the family we could run the country from in here if need be. The facility can withstand any bomb threat without loosening a bolt of its construction."

"Uncle, I thank you for championing this initiative, but do you really think we will need all of this? What enemy could we face that requires such protection?”

"Demesetelis' power and influence is expanding, Badir. Even thought it seems silly now, if our ambitions are to be realized we will piss people off along the way. It is imperative we have a place to keep the family safe in the event our lives are threatened."

"You are very wise uncle, I pray we never have to use this facility for its intended purposes. Let's get going, shall we start at the command center?"

"Sure, hit that red button next to the door." Before he could press the button, a shout rang out across the room.

"Hold the tram!"

The sultan looks up to Caane and Caleb running in from outside. They hop up the tram steps and take a seat across from their Great Uncle. As they pass by, the smell of sweat and something the sultan can not identify whips past him. Badir presses the button and takes his seat across from Caane as the tram begins to move. "I thought you were checking the air vents Caane?"

"I was father" Said Caane, panting and looking towards Badir with bloodshot eyes. "We just went a little ways up the mountain, everything is fine!" He flashed his most charming smile towards his father.

"Why are your eyes so red Caane? And yours too Caleb?" The sultan asked, narrowing his own.

"Oh... uh a dust storm" Said Caleb.

"A dust storm!" Exclaimed the sultan. "I did not see any dust storms on my way up here?"

"He means the wind kicked up some dust in our eyes." Injected Caane, while subtly elbowing Caleb. "Nothing to worry about, we will be fine. I have some eye drops in my room here."

"Hmm. You boys be careful. I do not need you falling down a gulley. Also," The sultan glares at Caane "Baqa told me he caught you riding your bikes in the corridors yesterday. We just finished the base, do not tear up my carpet with your tires!"

"Sorry sir" Caane hangs his head "How much longer are we going to be here anyway? I was finished getting my stuff ready last Friday!"

"Ask your mother Caane, I just got here. I will be leaving for my Batavian visit at 6am tomorrow, if she has nothing planned for you perhaps you can accompany me."

"On to more pressing matters" Pipes up Amir, clearly annoyed at the interruption of his presentation. "Located within the command center is a state of the art satellite uplink that....."

As Amir drones on about the subtleties of running a nation from underground, the tram continues to whirr deeper into the mountain complex.

---

Installation 23
Skybone Mountain Range
The night of the Commonwealth assembly

Cas, current head of security for the installation, was sat in Security Station Alpha when Caleb's alert went out. Code orange procedures? Jesus people will be arriving within the hour. He thinks to himself. Standing from his desk, he presses the intercom button and makes an announcement. "Attention all personnel. A Code orange has been declared. Please follow your code orange procedures. The family should start to arrive soon, we need the facility running at one hundred percent by the time they get here." He does not have a headache yet, but Cas pops a Tylenol anyway, knowing the commotion ahead will most certainly give him one. Sitting back in his chair, he pulls out his phone and Facetimes his wife Adeela. She picks up quickly. "Adeela, did you get the message?"

"Yes, we are all getting ready to head out. Do you think this is serious Cas?"

"Do not worry my love, Caane is fine. And besides, this all happened in Britcan, it is simply a formality for the family to take shelter while we figure out the situation. Is Amir up?"

"Actually, I haven't seen him move this spryly since... well forever. He is moving with such purpose, here he comes now." Adeela flips the camera to show Amir carrying a military backpack and a rifle, striding down the steps, cane in hand almost forgotten.

"Come on Adeela, start bringing bags out to the car. I am going to get a headstart, they need me in the command center." Shouts Amir

"Amir, certainly you are not going to drive yourself? Let one of your security team take you there."

"Nonsense! I know the way by heart, besides those slowpokes would take ages."

Adeela grabs a suitcase and follows Amir out to the driveway. She rests the phone on the floor of the SUV and begins to load up the car. "Cas, we should be leaving in just a bit. Your grandfather is driving on his own. do you know how the rest of the family is faring?"

"I had to turn my phone on silent, all the group chats and pings. It seems everyone else is ok and getting ready to head to the mountains."

Isabella, Cas' 14 year old daughter can be heard in the background "Mom! Can I ride with great grandpa?"

"Ask him yourself" Adeela shouts back "He probably does not want you slowing him down!" She chuckles.

"Grandpa, pleaseeee?" Begs Isabella.

"Alright sweet pea, you know I can't say no to those puppy eyes, get in, we're taking the Jaguar."

"Bye mom!" Yells Isabella.

"Drive safe Amir! Isabella, stick with your great grandfather. I will see you there. Waive for your father!" Adeela picks up the phone and points it at the car, where Cas sees Isabella waving out the window. Past her he can see Amir turn the key to start the car and then orange fills the screen. The sound of the blast blows out the phones microphone, so all Cas hears is a loud thud. The phone lands propped up against something and Cas has a full view of the burning wreckage. All he can do is stare at the screen, mouth agape, as his brain tries to process what it has seen. As the smoke clears he can see his wife slumped inside the garage, having been thrown by the blast. Debris begins to fall from the sky, and a mangled Jaguar hood ornament lands in front of the phone.

[Batavie]

Batavian offices
The Commonwealth Society Assembly building
Ida, Britcan

A few days after the fateful attack on Grand Ole Sultan Caane’s life Noah was formally given his new commisionarry powers. Still with battle scars on his body his first briefing started. A young staffer by the name of Joshua Goldschmekelstein, a Jew, handed him the necessary documents and walked up to the map in the centre of the room. He started speaking about all the known pirate hotspots, he specifically mentioned that the situation around Cimmeria had died down in recent days as little to no news came from the island. No news was good news for this commission’s objective.

As Joshua Golschmekelstein finished, Noah got up to speak his mind on the matter. His position was clear, the commonwealth should be pirate free by ‘33. He immediately ordered another staffer, Adofl Hilter, not a Jew, to make posters with ‘pirate free by ‘33’ as its tagline.




Adofl was a good artist, but unfortunately never made it into art school. This had made him a bitter man and very hateful of Joshua Goldschmekelstein. When Hilter was drunk he often spoke of his hatred for Jews. Always to the dismay of people around him. At one point though, his drunken rantings were overheard by Noah, who immediately offered him a job. Adofl mainly partook in landscape paintings but he was now hired to do Noah’s PR images. As Noah was promoted, he was promoted right alongside him.

A black individual, not hired by Noah, spoke up. He handed over a document to Noah which in bold letters had ‘classified’ on it. In it, there were reports from intelligence agencies about a vast criminal network of pirates, drug dealers and other such knaves. His pirate free by ‘33 goal had just found its first enemy.

[Kaarland]

A few weeks earlier…

The war in Cimmeria draws to a close as General Batis’ army is hunted by the combined forces of Kaarland and Kherkov into the Ghizil forest. A purely administrative communication is sent to the Kherkovian command in Cimmeria, to initiate the handover of the northern portion of the island back into Kaarite hands.

In the meantime, the acting-government of the Kaarite league has its attention focused firmly on the discreet taskforce sent to Cimmer, to investigate any possible links the CLF had to the outside.

When Aeolus finds out the taskforce’s lead has arrived back in Athiteia, he arranges to meet with him at a secure location, away from the city’s busyness and any prying eyes and ears.

Safehouse – Athiteia, Kaarland

The intelligence officer who led the taskforce sits in a chair in the corner of the room; his drooping eyes showing the haste in which he has arrived, and indeed the intensity at which his team had been working.

Aeolus, the now acting-Archon in Kaarland, paces in front, the floorboards of the bare room squeaking underfoot.

He stops to peer out of a window; pulling aside the drapes slightly, he watches passers-by enjoying the midday sun, families picnicking in the park across the street, children playing in the public fountain. The sculptures on the fountain serve as a memorial to those lives lost in the Aseni wars, one of the many commemorations built to foster togetherness and unity amongst the states of the Kaarite League.

He turns back to the officer. “Tell me everything”.

The intelligence officer puts down the mug of coffee he had been nursing, and slowly leads Aeolus through his entire investigation.

Aeolus listens to it all, half suspecting what he would hear, but still stunned nonetheless.

“And you’re sure? You have no doubt?” he presses.

“Yes sir. We found… everything. They were clearly trying to get rid of any evidence but they can’t have been expecting our invasion. We caught them before much of anything had been destroyed.”

“What’s not clear is if the CLF knew exactly who it was that was aiding them; but it was without a shadow of a doubt Argomon. Their fingerprints are all over this, from intelligence, to arms, we have proof beyond doubt that Argomon was helping the CLF.”

“And not just helping; they instigated the entire rebellion. They told the rebels where to strike, who to strike against, what places of infrastructure needed to be held, when to act. We interrogated what was left of their high command, and found out that even captains and soldiers of our own garrison in Cimmeria, betrayed their commanders to aid the rebels – clearly these were Argomon’s men.”

The officer pauses, and shifts in his seat nervously. Aeolus looks at him, commanding him to go on.

“Of the Archon’s assassination too; they confirmed they found out about his location from their ‘friends’ abroad.”

Again, Aeolus had expected this, but hearing it out loud fills his being with rage.

“And there were no other actors involved?”, Aeolus asks the officer.

“No sir. The trail leads back directly, and only, to Argomon.”

Aeolus walks over and pats the officer’s shoulder. “Well done, you’ve earned your rest.”

He then turns to leave the room, before he is called back by the officer.

“Sir, if I may?”

Aeolus nods.

“What will happen now?”

Aeolus pauses in thought. Then asks the officer, “Do you have a family here soldier?”

“Not here, in a town on the boarder, to the West”, the officer responds.

Aeolus thinks again. “I hear it’s a good time of year to holiday in Eastern Aphus. Take your family, you’ve earned your leave.”

---

Imperial Drawing Room, The Kriegerburg – Gratberg, Kherkov

In a meeting room deep in the bowels of the Kriegerburg building, Kaiser Valentin III plays host to King Cylon of Argomon.

The Kaiser waits as an attendant pours them both tea, then leaves.

“It’s always a pleasure to host a King of the League.” The Kaiser nods to Cylon. “Although I have to say this visit is unexpected; I’m quite used to dealing directly with only the Archon’s government in these times”.

“The pleasure is mine Your Imperial Majesty. And yes, I apologise for the sudden interruption, but I have matters I think will be of interest for you to discuss”, Cylon responds.

“And I’d be happy to hear them. I just wish our meeting could be in a happier time; I must offer my condolences for your Archon’s unjust murder. Terrible business.”

“Indeed, terrible business. But it’s exactly that business that I have come to talk about.”

The Kaiser leans back in his seat, intrigued.

Cylon continues, “With the Archon’s untimely death, he has left a vacuum of power in Kaarland. You will no doubt agree that can leave any nation in a precarious state, let alone a loose confederacy such as Kaarland.”

The Kaiser nods. He strikes up a cigarette, and offers one to Cylon who accepts. “I assume an election will take place, no? To decide your next Archon? I’m no expert on Kaarite constitutional arrangements, but I understand that’s how you do things?”.

“Indeed, an election could follow. But our elections can be tense in ordinary times; and an election held now, after recent tumultuous events and the crisis in Cimmeria, one dreads to think what could happen. Faith in the political system has been lost, the future of Kaarland lies on a knife edge.”

The Kaiser takes a long drag of his cigarette, and leans back once more. “But with no election, that leaves only the option for someone to… seize power?”, came his reply, hoping to probe the King.

Cylon leans forward, “Kaarland needs strong leadership. The people are disgruntled, the Kings are uneased by the current political situation with an Aphenian minister operating as ‘acting-Archon’, but are all too hesitant to do a damn thing. The League is all but dissolved already. I will announce my intentions in the Senate, to lead Kaarland into a new era under my own guidance and rule.”

The Kaiser responds, “and you don’t expect others to make the same challenge?”

“The only state with enough power to rival Argomon is the Aphenians; but with no King they have no one to rally behind, no strength. The old dog Aeolus may try to challenge me, but he’s no king. He has no legitimacy.”

“What about the boy? The Archon’s surviving heir?”

“As you say, he’s a boy, not a King. There is no one else, only me”.

The Kaiser takes another drag of his cigarette. “So, this all means you’ve come to ask for my backing?”

Cylon responds, “It makes sense. It would make the transition easier. And I believe a strong and stable neighbour to your south is far more beneficial than a fractious one.”

The Kaiser considers Cylon’s proposal. “Why should I risk my own position as a neutral observer, to back - with the greatest respect - a rogue state that seeks to usurp the throne against the political conventions of an ally?”.

Cylon turns to a large painting covering the wall to his right, a great commemoration to the Siege of Szalburg, what was the decisive victory for Prukov against Kheria in their march to unification. “But your Imperial Majesty knows too well, the strong conquer the weak – that is the only convention worthy of concern.”

The Kaiser remains unmoved, with Cylon’s attempted flattery unsuccessful. He pauses in thought for a moment, chewing over his words. “Or perhaps for the same reasons you neglected to inform the Archon’s government about a tip off you received some months ago.”

The Kaiser studies Cylon. He smiles as the dots connect in his head.

Cylon continues, “Deliver me my throne, and I will make Cimmeria yours.”

The Kaiser pours two glasses of whiskey, placing one in front of Cylon, he raises the other up, “To Cylon, King of all Kaarland.”

---

Principal Drawing Room, The Kriegerburg – Gratberg, Kherkov

The three men listened intently as the Kaiser spoke, drawing on cigars and cigarettes with every other breath.

“So, sir, what do you make of this… Cylon?” came the voice of Reichskommisar for Foreign Affairs Von Augustbach.

“In truth? I don’t trust, or favour, him at all,” replied the Kaiser, “but he represents the best hope we have for securing our Eastern border with a sympathetic, stable regime. And, if we gain Kemaria in the process, all the better. It would be prudent for you to deliver this information to Torgov, Otto. I will involve them regardless of what Cylon wants.”

Von Augustbach nodded. “Understood, Your Imperial Majesty. I will give the news to Viperia.”

“The Eastern Armies could be mobilised rapidly for an outright invasion, sir,” spoke Reichskommissar for War Von Kaunerst, “if that is your will.”

The Kaiser stood, pacing to the window. “No… we shall keep our intervention to a minimum for now. Some Guard divisions - armoured and mechanised - and advisors. Let us not throw too much weight behind a man we barely know. The Reichsvolksluftwaffe will crush the Kaarite air force and attain absolute air superiority, just in case. But keep the Eastern armies and fleets on high alert, Generalfeldmarschall. And this goes without saying – but the troops in Kemaria will conveniently not get the Kaarite message for handover.”

The belly-laugh of Crown Prince Adolphus echoed throughout the room, who had been summoned back from Kemaria. “I wager one division alone would be enough to beat the whole of Kaarland into shape!”

The men chuckled before the Kaiser spoke again, turning to face his subjects. “It is settled. Gentlemen, the Foreordained Toast.”

With this, the officials stood in unison, raising their glasses as one.

“Alles Erdreich ist Kherkov untertan!”

---

Senate House – Athiteia, Kaarland

The Senate House overflows with those present: every King in Kaarland, save the new king of Aphus Lysander, and their attendees, every Senator, every Councillor. Even the corridors are packed with people of the house, attempting to listen in to the anticipated proceedings.

The marble faces of the walls, floors, ceiling and pillars work only to increase the volume in the chamber, echoing the raised voices of those within.

Furious arguments rage across the benches, from the Argomon faction and the Aphenian faction, leaving the neutral Laertian faction in between.

King Cylon strides forward onto the floor, and raises his voice to get the attention of the house. He addresses the room, “Senators, councillors, Kings. Kaarland is in crisis. This house is in crisis. Not only this government, but this entire institution is no longer fit for purpose. We need a new vision. A new way of governance. Under my leadership I will take Kaarland into a new era.”

His statement is met with roars of support from a third of the room, a cacophony of outrage from another third, and stunned disbelief from the last third.

The Laertian King Heracleides steps forward to Cylon, “Cylon. Be careful. You cannot rule without Aphus, or Laerta. We must hold an election.”

“We are beyond elections, Heracleides.”

Aeolus steps forward, attempting to take control of the floor. Heracleides tries to stop him, “Aeolus, surely you understand we must have an election”.

Aeolus walks past him.

He addresses the room, “Gentlemen, do not be swayed by the words of this knave; he speaks with a silver tongue but he has hidden treachery in his heart. Ask yourselves, how did Cimmeria fall to insurrection so easily? Why were our armed forces incapacitated for so long? How were the rebels able to get to the Archon before we were?” He points to Cylon, “Because he ordered it. Whilst the late King and your Archon, Alexander, worked tirelessly to bring our states together in unison and prosperity, this betrayer and his kin worked within these very walls to bring ruin to us all. And now he has the audacity to stand here and ask for your fealty. There is a King you should follow, the last surviving heir of your Archon, King Lysander. Not this usurper.”

The house erupts again. Cylon attempts to shout over the noise.

“Usurper! How quaint old man. It seems to me that you were responsible for your master’s death. Were you not in charge of Alexander’s affairs in his absence, chairing this debacle of a Senate? All I could do was watch from afar as the chaos here unfolded. You speak of treachery, I’ve heard of the late comings and goings here in the palace, how information is controlled between this gang” he gestures to Aeolus, and Hermaeus and Helio stood behind. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was a conspiracy to seize power for yourself”. He turns directly to Helio, “Or perhaps the plan was to eliminate your brother and his family so you could take his place? Where exactly is Lysander? I’ve seen no proof he is even still alive.”

These last remarks enrage Helio who bursts forward and charges at Cylon. At the last moment he is held back by Hermaeus and others from the Aphenian benches.

The whole chamber erupts into a physical struggle.

Amongst the chaos, members from the Argomon faction rally to Cylon and loudly declare him the rightful King of all Kaarland.

Seeing this, Hermaeus and Helio lead others in an opposite claim for Lysander as the rightful King.

Aeolus turns to King Heracleides of Laerta, “Can Aphus still count on your support friend?”.

Heracleides looks frustrated at Aeolus, “I have to think of my people Aeolus; I need time to decide.”

Heracleides then makes his way out of the chamber, followed by his courtiers.

As he leaves Cylon calls after him, “Heracleides, you’re my friend, or you’re my enemy.”

Heracleides turns his back on him and leaves.

---

Anthousa Palace – Elateia, Laerta, Kaarland

Just outside of the Capital, in the major town of Elateia, King Heracleides plays host to King Cylon in the Anthousa Palace.

The two men sit across from each other, with a large ornate desk separating them. Drinks and other refreshments remain untouched from when they had been placed there earlier by a servant.

The previous day had seen two rulers be declared in Kaarland, with neither faction appearing willing to put their candidate to an election.

As the head of the third most powerful faction, King Heracleides had to decide how best to steer his own people through these precarious times, and so had agreed to meet with one candidate, King Cylon of Argomon.

Cylon breaks the silence, “You’re still struggling to place your support in me? Let me see if I can help you decide.”

“In me you have a king. In Aphus, a child. And even if I was responsible for the Archon’s death, what are you willing to sacrifice for your honour? How many of your own men, woman and children are you content to see die so your honour is not besmirched, oh great King. The time of Laerta is far gone. And the power in Aphus now too wanes. Kaarland can only find strength in me.” He slams his clenched fist on the table as he says these last words.

Cylon hesitates, deliberating to himself how much of his hand to reveal at this stage. “There’s no hope, you know. The boy, and that crony Aeolus, they can have no hope of victory.”

Heracleides finally breaks his silence, “You know as well as me Cylon, neither side rules without Laerta’s support.”

Cylon reveals the pack of aces he’s been holding. “I was out of the country last week, visiting a new friend. I’d say with their support, I needn’t even be he talking with you.”

“Who?”, Heracleides’ tone reflecting his sudden concern.

“Our Kherkovian friends in the North.”

“You’d sell out your fellow Kaarites to them? To Kherkov?”

“There is no ‘fellow Kaarites’. That dream died with Alexander.”

“You’re wrong. There’s still hope whilst the boy lives.”

“Whilst the boy lives, indeed. As I said, I needn’t ask for your help, I had only hoped you would see reason and support my cause, so I hadn’t had to be responsible myself for destroying such an old polis as your own. Because that is what will happen Heracleides. Destruction. There will be no peace treaty, no court will be given. If you do not join me, I swear by the gods even the memory of Laerta and King Heracledies will be ground into dust. The names of your heroes, your ancestors, your own will fade to time. I will outlaw just the mention of Heracleides or his city Laerta, any man that should dare to do so will have his eyes clawed out and his tongue cut off. You will fade into a faint whisper, then into nothingness.”

“I ask you again, how much does your honour mean to you, King Heracleides?”

---

Karytaina Palace – Aphus (city), Kaarland

King Heracleides, dressed in full royal military regalia, strides down a long corridor. His sword rattles against his side as he paces, his boots muffled on the thick decorated carpet lining the floor. Past him as he walks are great paintings of past Kings and statesmen of Aphus.

Reaching the end of the hallway, he bursts through a large double set of doors.

Inside the room sits King Lysander in front of a desk, surrounded by members of his regency council, Aeolus, his uncle Helio, Hermaeus, Agis, Nestor, Orion, King Aesop of Pellios, and King Glaucus of Ithiki.

They all turn at the interruption, and see Heracleides enter. He walks straight over to Lysander, and unsheathing his sword in one great motion, he points its sharp tip at the face of the boy, who looks nervously back along the blade.

Heracleides then lets the great sword fall to the table, with a loud clatter that echoes throughout the great room.

He speaks to the boy directly, but so his words are heard by the entire room. “King Lysander, you have my sword, and the sword of every noble Laertian and Kydaesian in Kaarland.”

***

Cries of ‘Long live the King’ could be heard echoing throughout the Karytaina Palace, and indeed across Aphus that night. But whilst the generals welcomed in the coming war with celebrations, the soldiers of Kaarland were preparing to say goodbye to their families, many for the last time. Kaarland was set to descend into a civil war on a scale not scene for almost a thousand years...

---

Written in collaboration with Kherkov

[Kherkov]

That concludes our first CWS RP! Thanks to all who participated, it was great fun, and hope everyone got a good introduction to NS RPing!