The 83rd Cup of Harmony — Roster/RP/Scores Thread

[Delte]

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Eura 3-2 Delte (aet; full time: 2-2)
Player-Reporter Kim Samrodd in Dannin, Mertagne for Rothwarrodton Recipe & Puzzler Weekend Edition

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I won't dwell overly long on the finer details of this match.

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THE QUICK & THE DELTS
A World Cup 92 Teaser

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No-one could say for certain who was the first to discover or postulate Hyper Gerontological Syndrome. Was it Professor Ryna Polestar, headmistress at Oswark Grammar School, or Aleard Sullenden the professional beer taster? Was it Doctor Orem Ustingham, the valley’s only general practitioner and first class footballer, or the little twins Orlo & Nacka, whose big brothers Burus and Onun Tasher went away to the Baptism of Fire?

Professor Polestar was with the small reception committee on Platform 3 of Oswark Station when the bullet train got in from the far far away, and the Representative Team who had been off to Mertagne & Tumbra for the Cup of Harmony alighted to a polite round of applause, a rendition of ‘How Green Is The Valley?’ by the Uskoranton Colliery Brass Band, and a presentation of drawings from the children of Ildemorton Primary School. “My my, young Tasher”, she said to Onun Tasher, her talented sixth-former who was with the travelling party as first choice attacking midfielder, “haven’t you grown up!”

“Reckon we all have, Professor Polestar,” said her PE teacher Mr. Clentin, the coach, “It’s been an adventure, for sure, but do you know, I am exhausted. It’s a good job it’s half term!”

Mr. Clentin was right, thought the professor. Her PE teacher did look exhausted. Come to that, so did Kim Samrodd, her Language & Literature teacher, the team’s rightback (recently voted one of the world’s pre-eminent football journalists). He too looked like half term holidays coudn’t come soon enough. Perhaps these jolly jaunts to the far far away were asking a little too much of her staff and student. She consoled herself that still, it was all over for the time being and everyone could get back to the routines of the valley for the next few years.

Vi Sullenden wasn’t sure her husband needed his routine back. He’d been getting too many shifts ‘on the QC’ as they called it at the Brewery, or Quality Control; which meant a lot of supping and a long, long hangover. “Do you know, Vi,” said Aleard to his wife on Platform 3, “I’ve still got a blinking hangover from before all this football started. I think it’s time for a change. The QC is a young man’s game, I’m worn out. Couldn’t kick a ball for love nor money in Tumbra.”

Doc Orem, being a lone opium eater with no-one to greet him at the station, was with his friend Aleard when he voiced his potential retirement from the QC, and the Doc felt much the same about chasing the dragon. He would’ve expected to be thinking obsessively now about his medical stash and itching to get a lift home with one of the Ughmirren lads, but in fact found himself too tired to be thinking about all that and grateful for the invitation from Vi to join the Sullenden family for a quiet welcome-home supper.

And back home with another footballing family, the not-so-quiet Tashers, twins Orlo & Nacka were poring over all the memorabilia their brothers had collected in the far far away from the various adventures they had had in not winning the Baptism of Fire, the World Cup, or the Cup of Harmony. “Funny,” observed Orlo, the brighter of the two youngsters, “in the programmes and team sheets, it makes you two years older in the Cup of Harmony than it does in the Baptism of Fire.”

“That’s stupid” said Nacka, pretending to be clever, “the Baptism was only a couple of months ago. Anyway, look at this Sarzonia shirt!”

“I want it!” said Orlo, grabbing for the shirt his brother Burus had got in a swap with Stars’ midfielder Clayton Wilson.

“NO!!!” yelled Nacka, “I found it!”

Not entirely untypically, a fist fight broke out between the twins for a claim on the ediraf shirt with the superior wicking, in which various other family members had to intervene to separate them. They were sent to bed early by their furious and heavy-handed mother. “I think I’ll turn in too,” said Onun, “I need a good kip in my own bed”.

“Not coming to the Staves, then?” wondered the old man of the house, Pop Tasher. He was planning to cash in on his two footballing sons newfound popularity in the town and perhaps win a whole night of free drinks in their company. It wasn’t like Onun to turn down an invitation to some underrage drinking.

“Me neither,” said Burus, heading up to his room. Pop Tasher was once again disappointed with his sons, also not entirely untypically.

[Audioslavia]

The Cordian Isles had topped the group, gone unbeaten, and given us a right old run-around when we'd met on matchday five. I'd played every minute of that match and I can't remember a thing. When you're a striker (or what passes for one here) in an Audioslavia side in the middle of a 0-0 draw, your memory finds very little to latch on to.

Now, well into the knockout stages, my place in the team has been taken by Julho Viscondessas, and there's very little I can do but watch as the Bulls surge into a two-nothing lead in the first half. Julho doesn't score, but he's involved, bringing a bouncing ball under his spell and playing a pass through for Cappadonna who, after taking a touch, scythes the ball into the bottom corner from ten yards. He's involved in the second goal in a way only a striker would notice, peeling towards the far post and taking a defender with him in the process as Letexier sprints down the wing, and another midfielder is there with the finish this time, Olavi Kivela darting in front of Frederick Johnson and aiming a low header inside the near post.

The atmosphere in the dressing room in half time is fantastic, better than I've seen in my time here. RJ, never really reserved but definitely not as animated as usual in recent weeks, is all pats on backs and shoulder massages, telling every player the thing they need to hear in order to keep them on pace for the second period. It seems less and less like she's going about trying to save her own job, and more and more like she wants this bunch of lads to perform to their potential for their own sakes. The team that won the CAFA Cup had had a spring in their step. The players that failed in qualifying like few other Audioslavian teams had failed before had generally removed that momentum. It was, it appeared, coming back now.

Cue the second half, and cue Sebastian Voll hanging back during a North Stars attack, arriving late into the box and thumping a fierce shot well beyond Creighton to halve the defecit. And there, suddenly, was the team from qualifying once more. A mis-placed pass from Stelea almost lets Anton Osterholt through on goal. Obadele is there shepard the striker away, but Archer Flat wants to clear it into row Z and only succeeds in smashing the ball off of Obadele's hip. The ball takes two deflections and falls for Nicholas Eriksen, entering the penalty area at the far corner, but the winger can only pull a tame shot across the face of the goal. Four minutes later, Eriksen is there again, this time cutting a pass back from the same position. Hannah Andersen's first pass is blocked, but a second finds Karlssen in behind the defence and the winger beats Creighton at the near-post for what appears at first glance to be 2-2. We all hold our heads in our hands, but RJ is shaking her head, clicking her fingers and pointing at the assistant referee on the near side, who has his flag up. Was Karlssen actually offside? I didn't check. One thing Tom has been saying to me recently is, simply, not to bother with these things. Worst case scenario, you drive yourself mad. Best case scenario, you end up arguing with some cretins on twiitur.

RJ comes back into the dugout and pats me on the arm. "You're the outlet, Helios" she says, as if that would mean anything to me. She gives me a gentle shove in Dean Sharp's direction, who points at a small dot on a clipboard, a little way beyond four other dots.
"Striker" he says. "Make a nuisance of yourself. Keep them honest"
"Fuck aye" I say. 9 board up. 19 board up. Julho off. Missed fist-bump. Onto the pitch. Long goal kick comes. I'm there, competing with Milani Göransson in the air. I come off second best, naturally, but I'm back on my feet and chasing down Lucia Verkerk, who has to play her pass early. Stelea hassles the midfielder off the ball, it's out to Mata-Curie, and there I am in the hole between the midfield and the defence. Give me the fuckin..[/i[

..cheers thanks okay now what. Ball at feet, back to goal, Göransson behind, Johnson jogging into place diagonally behind my marker. Full-backs coming back, our own full-backs staying where they are. Brandão and Letexier are starting to get forward, there's a midfielder in front of me who wants the ball, probably Cappadonna. I could lay it off to him or... [i]or... or... I could go to turn Göransson. This shit never works. Defenders are so used to a striker making a big show of playing a square ball, only to do a shit cruyff turn, that it'd be barely a surprise unless... unless, I go for the shit cruyff turn but actually...

Okay that probably looked really clumsy on camera but I'm in. Feint a pass, feint a cruff-turn with my right foot, actually shift my weight onto my right foot and drag the ball in front of me, head down, knock the ball past the defender, just about get my shoulder in front and get sprinting. Johnson is covering, any support i might have had is behind me, Göransson is all over my back, I can't delay and wait for the wingers to come past. Aside from losing possession, the full-backs have a march on them. I get my head down and knock the ball further ahead, towards the right hand corner of the penalty are. Göransson still behind, Johnson actually struggling to make up the ground. I get there first with a touch, I'm in here, I'm in here...

Kristin Bergstrin narrows the angle and just stands up. My shot, from an acute angle, cannons off of her chest and out towards the edge of the six yard box, where the keeper reckons she'll pounce on it and launch a counter-attack. The thing about Audioslavians, though: We're annoyingly quick. Letexier has gotten in front of his marker and he's spent the last few seconds sprinting right towards the goalmouth. Bergstrin goes to pounce, Letexier slides and sweeps the ball in under the keeper for 3-1, giving her a knee in the shoulder in the process. The referee, helpfully, does nothing about it. 3-1 Audioslavia. Get in.

--

"It won't count as an assist" says Dean Sharp over breakfast the next day.
"Petition 'em, beancounting bastards" says Archer Flat through bits of banana.
"Great fuckin' run though, Helios" says RJ, with a nod, trying to ignore Archer savaging his breakfast next to her. I get a pat on the shoulder from a guy walking past. It's Julho, who gives me a wink and a 'good work mate' before taking up a chair at the other end of the table. I can't help but notice he sits down a little gingerly.
"Boy got a knock" says Obadele, watching me. "He'll be fit for Kuraita but, well"
"I might get picked" I say, trying not to spit muesli as I say it.
"Jesus, you two" says RJ. "Give me a fuckin' minute"
"Just saying, boss, I'm right as rain" I say, refraining from adding a wink.
"Good to know" says RJ, opening up a newspaper. RJ was on the front of it. Letexier is on the back, arms outstretched. There could be, so the subheading goes, only three games between us and the Grand Slam.
"The more I see that phrase" says Dean, opposite, looking at the back page. "The more I hate it"
"What" says Yuriyorkis, next to him.
"Grand Slam" says Dean, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter in the slightest. You know what matters?"
"The World Cup?" says one voice.
"The Cup of Harmony" says Dean. "This Cup of Harmony. Sod the World Cup. I want this tournament more than I've wanted anything"
"More than.." says another voice, but Dean interrupts.
"Champions League, World Cup, you name it. This is where it's at, boys"
"Schwearebanana" says Archer, through a mouthful of his third banana.
"Could you not eat like a civilised human being" says Dean. Archer says something xenophobic and awfully homophobic in response.

[Cassadaigua]

Kate Porter was delighted to serve her country in the Northern Territory, and felt a tremendous amount of honor to be able to lead the 34th Regiment in C22. She had all of the training, and there was no question that she could and would succeed with the troops, but there is still the human factor. She did not know any of them, and did not know how they would react to a new person being in charge. How attached were they to Hannah Torres? Others who were high up in the chain in command with the Regiment chose to return to Cassadaigua. They were not forced too, but felt a loyalty to Torres and wanted it that way, and for Porter, that was good news. It would be important for her to get know the women and men, and for them to know her before they resumed the mission. They were relatively safe where they were camping out, which was on the outskirts of the village. People within C22 were certainly wondering what was going on, knowing the forces had been sitting there, idle, for quite some time without entering.

Porter did not want to begin by asking what really happened in Gastineau, but it would be the soldiers who volunteered that information. Now, she knew that there was no sneak attack by pirates, but understood that they were fired upon first. She may have had to give the same order to return fire, but from her conversations with the troop, she got the feeling that Torres did not handle it properly. Her first command to her army would be to tell them that things were going to be different:

“Everyone, we are not going to just be telling people to get on buses if they do not want to become Cassadagan citizens. The buses will still be present, but will now be an option for people if they wish us to provide them transportation to territory that is not being claimed. [i]So, again, no one will be made to get on a bus. Those who do will now be choosing to do so by their own choice. People will still be able to become Cassadagan citizens, no questions asked, but if they do not wish to, then we are hereby allowing them to stay for the short term. Eventually, these people will need to make a decision, but they are to be instructed that they may continue to enjoy their way of life for the time being and do not have to get on a bus. When we leave a village, we will be having more peacekeeping troops per village and they will know who the people are that are choosing to not become citizens. They will be allowed to live their lives, but will be watched extra carefully in case they try to disrupt the quality of life of people choosing to become citizens. In the meantime, we will be attempting to educate those people even further about the benefits of becoming a citizen. Maybe they will just need to a little longer to accept the fact that this land is part of Cassadaigua. We will hope to do this. Are there any questions about this?”[/i]

One solider spoke up. “Is that from the Queen? And is the Queen still the Queen?”

“That is the directive of Rachel LaSalle, who is the liaison between us and the Palace. At the moment, Cassie II is still the Queen. She is in being questioned by the Royal Court, as are some others, (Princesses) Caitlyn, Cassie III, Brianna, and Chelsea. I have no idea how that is going to turn out, but both Cassie III and Brianna support this mission.” Porter replied.

Another soldier followed up with another question, “It almost seems like this new command is from Brianna. Is Brianna talking to Rachel LaSalle?”

“Princess Brianna has no authority over this mission. But that’s not to say that Queen Cassie II may not have been paying attention to Brianna’s social media message and ordered Rachel LaSalle to tell me what she did. Also, some of that was my own doing, too. These people are humans, they deserve a little more respect than we were told to give them. It shouldn’t make your jobs any more difficult, and it may just make it less stressful. We’re not forcing any one to get on a bus any more. We do this, and no one can fairly accuse us of ethnic cleansing from this point on.”

Another solider replied, “For right now, anyway. I mean it still seems as though over the long term, they will still be forced out.”

“Not necessarily, there might be another plan. We shall see. Anyway, we will rest up tonight, and go into the village tomorrow morning at eight.”

Back at the Palace, the Royal Court would hear from each of the aforementioned Princesses before listening to the Queen herself. The first person to be spoken to would be Princess Caitlyn, the older sister of Queen Cassie II would have been the Queen if not for “the incident”. Caitlyn is the reason for all of this going on, although some wonder if the Court may have taken it upon themselves to begin the proceedings. Caitlyn would be asked several questions, but the main gist of it was what her motivation was for bringing this to the Court, because no one expects her to actually serve any time as Queen. And that’s the problem that Caitlyn would have in the eyes of the Court, because it seems to be a self serving action, and not for the benefit of Cassadaigua. Caitlyn would get her chance to make a case that she had the best interests of the nation in mind, but it did not seem as though the Court was buying her argument. None of these were public, but Caitlyn was seen leaving the courtroom with a rather disappointed look on her face.

Up next would be Princess Chelsea, the third daughter of Queen Courtney, who is younger than Cassie II by a year. Some people thought it was a surprise to hear her name mentioned as being subpoenaed, but there is the possibility that if the Court decided to remove Cassie II from power, that they could elect to keep it in this generation and declare Chelsea to be Queen. That would open up an unnecessary can of worms, and it is not as if Chelsea had any interest to be the Queen, anyway. In a bit of a rare move for a Princess, Chelsea turned down the offers to govern certain parts of the matriarchy due to having an interest of being active in the business world. She is currently the President of Concord Heights Beauty School, and enjoys that role. But it would seem to be only fair to give Chelsea a chance to make a case of her own. She would not make one, so this was pretty short.

While the Court was talking to Chelsea, Princess Brianna and Caitlyn would go over the discussions that were had with Caitlyn, and it likely demoralized Brianna a bit. However, once Brianna made it into the Court, her attitude would improve quite a bit. It seems as though the Court’s knowing that Caitlyn would just hand the crown to Brianna made the Court just want to skip that step entirely, and discuss the possibility of making Brianna the next Queen. They would compliment her for her handling of the initial court case, and how she accepted the ruling without any further drama. She would be asked many questions, including how she would handle the conflict in the Northern Territory. That seemed to make her optimistic, since they would not be asking her that question if they weren’t about to make her Queen. At the conclusion of this discussion, she would leave happy and hopeful that her dream might finally be realized.

The final Princess to be spoken to would be Cassie III, who was already declared to be the next Queen by this very Court just a couple months ago. She had done nothing wrong in the meantime, and could not be considered a responsible party for anything that happened in Gastineau, or the general northern territory. Cassie III had tried to be patient, and was doing a good job of that in the public eye, while internally wishing her mother could step down as Queen. Appearing in front of the Court right now was making her nervous, because it could be a not so ironic role reversal between her and Brianna from the way things were a few months ago if the Court removed the crown from Cassie II and gave it back to Caitlyn. Cassie III was smart, and knew that the Court had reservations that if they did give her the crown now, that it would just be more of the same. Would it be time for her to separate herself from her mother? At least, right here, she could do it in a private manner.

“Members of the Court, for the last couple of years, I have had a difficult time watching my mother. As a person, I love her to death. She is my mother, and I am her daughter. The love we share will always be there. But, I feel like as she is getting older, she is getting a little more confused. I don’t want to say all out dementia or anything, but I just don’t think she uses her best judgment the same way now as she may have been doing about five years ago or so. I think it is a good idea for us to expand our borders. Claiming the Cooper River can be vital, but we don’t need to be forcing people out of their homes. We’re bullying people, and that’s not something we want to be known for, ever. My concern is that she will not step down by her decision. It will be either when she passes on, or if, you know, you executed your power. I know that I can lead, and I know that the time can be right now. If you agreed, I will be ready.”

The Court was surprised by Cassie III’s declaration. They would ask her a few more questions, but were happy with the way things went. Cassie III left the courtroom also in a very happy manner.

Within the Palace courtyard, Cassie III and Brianna would cross paths, each smiling.

“This might be the day one of us is waiting for, Bri.” Cassie said with a smile.

“If it is, I didn’t think it would ever come.” Brianna replied, smiling back as reporters snapped pictures as quick as they possibly could. They would hold hands, hoping to show a sign of unity, for the nation, not just to supporters of one side of the other.

Queen Cassie II had different ideas within the Royal Court, however, speaking in her defense as they asked her a slew of questions of many topics, most concerning the methods being used in the Northern Territory, but some relating to other domestic situations, even including pulling the nation out of most international sports.

The Court would conclude their conversation and after an hour or so to discuss, they would declare to the nation that a major decision was about to be made. But first, let’s talk about soccer.

Fillies Blank Stars,
by Chelsea Dufresne, Concord Heights Times

There is so much going on with our country right now that talking about the Cup of Harmony seems very unimportant, but there are many people out there that want to think about different things. It is often said that one of the greatest things about sports is that it provides the ability to become an escape from the real world. International sports can do that while getting the pride level for your country at a high. Cassadaigua is playing in the Cup of Harmony, as we know, and are coming off a 1-0 win over Sarzonia. In Round 4, the Fillies are able to knock off the Stars and advance to the quarterfinals.

The full game summary can be found elsewhere on this website, but I am still in awe of the vision of Cynthia Kerr to unload that 80th minute long ball goal kick to Rachel Boldin, who came in as a sub in the 74th minute. Boldin did so well to remain onsides, catching Sarzonia in transition, and with only one defender to beat after the brilliant long ball, Rachel was in on goal and scored the only goal of the match. This game was chess match, though not of the Elephant variety. Congrats to Cynthia Kerr, who was dominant in goal and also made the play of the game to set up Boldin.

Back at home, there’s talk about the possibility of a new Queen. Maybe that will have us returning to major sports again. Or back to major hosting again. The last major thing we hosted: World Cup 88. With Chromatika.

The next game: versus Chromatika.

I think it’s a good omen.

[Eura]

CUP OF HARMONY 83 – ROUND OF 16
Eura 2-2 Delte (3-2 AET)
Scorers:
Marshall 32, Robson 75, Woakes 112
Lineup:
1. E Palmer
4. J Menard
15. K Sherwood
5. T Green
6. S Erskine
16. O Vincent (sub Robshaw 95)
11. B Malone
20. R Marshall (Woakes 87)
12. A Woodman
14. S Singh (sub Atkinson 72)
9. S Robson

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On the southwestern coast of Terramidia, almost equally split in distance between the southern tip of Olastor and the northwest of Mavinet, a small camp had sprung up seemingly from nowhere. The area was lightly populated and those that did live here stayed clear of this new feature and its mysterious occupiers.
The occupiers called themselves the Phalanx Company, and they would call their new home Camp Courier.
The camp was quite small, a smattering of tents and a handful of hastily cleared grass and dirt helipads, some fuel tanks and a communications array, and a small, prefabricated headquarters slapped together on site. Phalanx normally couldn’t throw up such an operation at such short notice, let alone the expansion that would possibly have to follow; but the Euran state has pockets that run deep, and they were willing to expend some resources to get it done promptly.

In the headquarters Adam Kane was gathered with several of the PMC’s key operators, discussing their first steps of what was a convoluted logistics plan. In summary, once suitable contacts were established with the Cooper River people, Phalanx would be responsible for creating a supply chain of semi-deniable weapons to those who wished to resist the rule of Concord Heights. This was on the basis of a secret directive from the Euran government and supported by a funding arrangement that was so clandestine it could be mistaken for a cartel’s money laundering operations.
The supply chain would start all the way back in northern Eura, where government and military owned storage facilities housed huge amounts of captured Sameban war materiel from the Great Endemian War. The government was in the process of setting up a “workshop” in the port city of Balleck to strip back some of this equipment – removing anything deemed too powerful or sensitive – and scrubbing away any immediately obvious signs of the origins of the equipment. Serial numbers were removed or covered up, for example.

The Eurans had no intention of handing out tanks and fighter jets or anything of that nature – small arms was the name of the game. Rifles, machine guns, sniper rifles, and vitally launchers for use against vehicles and low-flying aircraft. Once ready, these armaments would then be taken to a private airfield and onto transport aircraft leased by Phalanx and flown via several routes to the Euran-controlled Uke Islands, where they would be moved onto large helicopters for transit to Camp Courier, flying across the coastline between Olastor and Muzira’a Ba’aydah to get there. Meanwhile, heavier supplies and materiel needed to sustain the camp itself – and, crucially, refitted Sameban helicopters – would be moved by ship from Balleck, offloading at Uke and then taken in by air, or in the case of the helicopters flown in by themselves.
There was just one problem. Who was this all for?
Kane marched out of the building and towards one of the handful of helicopters available at this stage. Joined by a couple of pilots and two of his best mercs, they hopped on board and took off to find out, followed closely by another bird in tandem.

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‘What time is it?’
Elizabeth – or “the leader” as you have probably come to know her – was wide awake and responded quickly. ’Just gone 06:00 hours.’
‘So at home its-‘
’09:00. We’re on Continental Time, they’re on Endemien.’
‘They should be here by now.’
‘And they will be. Just be patient. Ah, hold on…’
From a distance the sound of chuntering helicopter blades began to hit their ears. One of the group was briefly alarmed to see them emerge over a hilltop, recognising the design.
‘What the- those are SRA! What the hell is going on?!’
‘Calm down Nick. They must be ours. I think.’
‘If they’re not we’re fucked anyway, so why worry?’
‘Exactly.’

It turned out to be just two choppers, which were guided to their target by a freshly popped orange smoke grenade.
The Euran dozen, after a stressful time in the Cooper River region, were going home.
‘You, find us a building, we need to talk!’ barked a huge burly man who stepped off the first chopper while it was still a couple of feet off the ground, pointing in Elizabeth’s direction.
Maybe they would not be going home so quickly after all.
‘Who are you exactly?’ Elizabeth replied sceptically, barely audible above the roar of the swirling blades.
‘I’m Kane – Phalanx Company Limited. Bastion sends its regards.’
She scrunched up her face in disgust. She loathed these kinds of mercenary profiteers. But if they were sent by her bosses, that made them her team’s only route out of here.
‘I was led to believe you were here to extract us, not chit-chat!’
‘Yeah, well, this won’t take long. Come on. Lead the way.’

Their pickup point was north of the Cooper River, outside the region that Cassadaigua’s government had announced it intended to annex and was now occupying. This place had no formal name, but as small numbers of international media managed to reach the region, some were starting to call it “Flea Town”, because of its disgruntled appearance and a pun on how people had been fleeing to get here. Such a jokey name was perhaps inappropriate. Tens of thousands of people had essentially formed a refugee camp along a shallow valley with a smaller tributary of the Cooper running through it. Some had only just arrived; others had been here for weeks, many of them bused to the river’s edge by the Dagan military and simply dumped there. Food was being sourced locally as it always had been by these communities, but they lacked real shelter, there was no CRC or other international presence on the ground, and sanitation conditions were appalling. The dozen had been here a week, during which they had taken enough photographs and videos for the press to give the Dagans another PR beating.
Kane cared about none of this. After explaining the logistics plan to Elizabeth and her other military and intelligence colleagues (the rest of her group were kept in the dark outside), he gave her a request; to find him a resistance to supply. Fortunately, Elizabeth had only recently met exactly the person they needed for the job.

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Alain Poitou hated Cassadaigua.
Ironically, Alain was technically a Dagan himself. He was born to one parent who was a stateless native of Cooper River and another from Sicoutimont, but they lived in New Lakeland in northwestern Cassadaigua when he was conceived and born. They left while he was young and could barely remember. Nevertheless, once upon a time, he had an affinity for the land of his birth, even if he considered himself a man free of national alignment.
Recent events had changed his perspective. Alain moved out to the Cooper River region a decade ago after spending much of his young adulthood travelling Rushmore and had just turned 36. His encounters with Dagan society since, and their impression of those living beyond its boundaries in terra nulius, had made him wary of his “homeland”, especially after spending time in some of Rushmore’s democracies. And now the annexation – no, the invasion – had completely destroyed any remaining sentiment. It had instead been replaced by a sense of injustice and, above all, rage, driven by what he saw as the traditional, anarchic nature of Cooperite life was being demolished by Dagan imperialism.

As a resident of Flea Town, he was perfectly placed to find others who agreed. Alain had actually come here by choice for a few months just before the invasion began only to find it being rapidly overwhelmed by people who made a perilous crossing of the mostly un-bridged river. The stories he heard of deportations, troops turning up at the door and sporadic violence made his stomach churn.
Then came the Gastineau massacre.
It moved Alain from simple anger to wanting to actually do something about it. He had started talking to like-minded people, organising and becoming a de facto elder among this rapidly growing community, building up a network of contacts running back into the occupied region itself. There was no simple dividing line between those who had bent the knee to Dagan rule and those who had resisted – many had simply accepted a passport out of fear, surprise, or simply to avoid suspicion. Some would be willing to push back, or even fight, and those that were already fighting – including long-running pirate and smuggling groups – had fled to the woods to plot their next move.

Unfortunately, to Alain’s frustration, the Cooperites disparate society was working against them. There had been no organised resistance because, well, why would there be without something like a government or national identity? The disadvantage of no-one telling you what to do and how to identify was that, when you needed to organise yourself against an existential threat, there was no-one to coalesce around and no central, emotional attachment to motivate any resistance. All Alain could do, it seemed, was rant day and night to anyone who would listen.
Alain started speaking on his soapbox in Flea Town, down by the stream running through it, and soon realised he was not alone. Crowds gathered, crowds that in recent days had grown bigger and bigger. Banners were starting to be held at what were now essentially rallies, boasting messages such as “JUSTICE FOR GASTINEAU” and “CASSIE THE CRIMINAL”. And so, as his following grew and their intensity of feeling became more apparent, he started thinking; why not me?
He was a long way from having built a massive resistance movement that he was beginning to dream of. But a group had been established, with him as the leader, with a “council” of other Cooperites around him, and a few hundred supporters in Flea Town. They even had a name, La République du Fleuve – The River Republic.

The River Republic had no flag, boundaries or laws. It was still small enough that the Dagans might not even be aware of it. It considered itself a revolutionary front of sort in a very early stage, with only a few set core beliefs:
Cassadaigua needed to leave Cooper River.
The Dagan monarchy was ultimately responsible for what was going on and the real enemy – hence, the River Republic.
The revolution will include all who desire it.
This was no complex manifesto of ideas, but a starting point nevertheless. Just getting this group together at all was an accomplishment considering its extraordinary diversity – among their ranks they had sympathetic Dagan citizens (including male militants opposing the nation’s matriarchal society), French but also English speakers, anarchists and communists, democracy activists, and a substantial bulk of Cooperite farmers and country folk kicked off their land when they refused Dagan rule.

Of course, such a group had to have a fault line somewhere, and it seemed to be over how far they were willing to go. Some members were pacifists or those who felt that peaceful protest was the way forward, or even some kind of lobbying of the government in Concord Heights to change course.
Alain was not one of these people. He was worldly and had seen how unequal balances of power worked out elsewhere, and also believed that the Dagan government would never negotiate with those they deemed uncivilised savages. As the key figure in this small rebel front he had quickly moved to ensure those who wanted to fight controlled the council, relegating them to rank-and-file roles where they could help with duties other than organised resistance. Someone had to look after the other refugees, after all.
The only problem was how to fight back. They were not an army and, bar a handful of ex-Dagan military personnel were among the sympathisers, lacked any real training. Weapons were sparse, both in Flea Town and over the Cooper in the territory increasingly under the control of Dagan forces.

He was given fresh belief when he met Elizabeth. This Euran of dubious origins had been asking around town with some friends of hers for information on Dagan atrocities and bad behaviour, but Alain saw an opportunity. When he had first met her, Alain made no mistake, asserting his importance and demonstrating it through a tour of the town and introductions to the Republic’s council (essentially six or seven elders in a shed with a picnic table), placing a thought in her mind that there were Cooperites willing to take their land back by any means necessary, if only they had the necessary foreign support.
When Elizabeth turned up with a group of paramilitaries or mercenaries of some kind and talked about giving him and his followers weapons and training, he understandably assumed his scheme had paid off. Little did he know of course about the machinations going on far away in Bastion were unaffected by the actions of a random Cooperite. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the River Republic was within touching distance of being able to make its dreams a reality.
After an initial discussion, he brought them to his temporary home, and they got into very serious conversations about the future of his group and how quickly they could receive the support they would need.

[Mertagne]

WARRIORS DISARMED - SAVOJAR SALVO AWAITS
Mertagne clinch spot in Quarter-Final after Extra Time standoff against Milchama

Bretsaar, FRESKOVIA-- A tense game at The Scabbard in the latest Cup of Harmony bout for Mertagne allowed for the home side to slide past the Warriors of Milchama in a ludicrous lot of extra time, which saw two extra goals scored from a potent combination of Heather Gell and Claudio Vantula. Vantula, had put the first goal past the Warriors at the 39th minute mark, initially putting the Green Goblins up over a Milchama squad that brought a deafening crowd to the Scabbard, and was also responsible for sealing Mertagne's passage to the quarter-finals, scoring after brilliant passing play between himself and Lee Margas.

It is truly a testamant to the coaching of Darryl Lamarein that the Milchama side were able to remain competitive against one of the best Mertagne squads in years, headed by a truly old head on the international scene. However the warrior were lithe in their attack, and stocky in their defence, with their 3-3-4 formation criss-crossing with the 3-4-3 that Mertagne began the match in. Every player on the pitch found something to do, and the resultant stalemate refused to be broken until Vantula's first goal, nearly forty minutes into the match. There had been several chances beforehand from both sides, with a Milchamian corner set to put the cat amongst the pigeons when Marc K. Floren deftly picked up the ball with his feet, and began to lock on to the target that the experienced hands of Lliot Celarte were desparately trying to protect. The resultant ping of the ball as it hit the crossbar was heard not just in The Scabbard, but among the millions watching at home here in Mertagne and beyond. Floren, his hands clutching his forehead, saw the scenes of lime-clad Mertagnians cheering and jeering as he walked back into position to do his best to stem the tide that resulted from Celarte's ensuing goal kick.

The issue for the Mertagnian side came in the second half, and as Fëanáro and Ettrick conversed on the sidelines, debating key strategy and when exactly to pull some of the more flagging players off the pitch, the Warriors smelled blood and managed to exploit the weak point that had shown itself in the form of a line of stamina-empty players from Charlotte Masquelier to Alips Maurauri. Leetal Fenet managed to assess the opportunity with a general's eye as they slipped the ball through the two to Mattityahu, who managed to pull away from the back line with aplomb and punt the ball into the bottom left corner to allow Milchama to equalise.

Nerves from both sides looked tense going into the final minutes of the standard ninety, but neither team were truly able to make the final push warranted to close the game, even with four minutes of injury time added on at the end due to a brief incident that saw Jay Flimt collide with Silbane de Faumont, giving Jay the red card and Silbane an injury that will definitely see her on the sidelines of the next match. The whistle blew, and the score remained locked at 1-1.

The start of extra time saw Mertagne make the most of their extra substitution, and a flagging Briac Lewis was pulled out, with a primed and ready Fostin Feu placed in instead, tipping the scales to a more attacking formation and hoping that Mertagne could concentrate play around the Milchamian half.

Their prayers were answered nine minutes in to the first half of extra time, as Heather Gell recieved a great pass from Feu, which was weaved well past the back markers and delivered confidently in her challenge against Miles Inthracam. Inthracam's brief lapse meant that he didn't quite have Gell's movements on lock, choosing to make a soaring dive to the left when she flicked the ball to the right.

Vantula's goal arrived in the third minute of the second half of extra time, which marked the point of a significant slowdown for both teams. Mertagne, more secure in their lead against the Warriors, attempted to focus on a dominating possession, but things looked worrisome for the home side when Gal Waver made a brilliant run up through the field, only to go for a shot that sailed far off target. Once the final whistle of extra time blew, a relieved Mertagne side waved to the home and away crowd as they walked off the pitch, while heartily congratulating the Warriors for a battle well fought.

Mertagne's next challenge sees them head to capital city Dannin for a surprising matchup against Savojarna. The Savojars have come to the match by beating Starbladyia, in a game where our neighbours in purple were tipped to do well, but sadly didn't meet the lofty expectations that are usually placed on a side of such pedigree. Ázëwyn Fëanáro is likely to consider herself lucky that she left the Purple Peril at the right time, yet also likely disappointed that she won't get the opportunity to show a Starblaydi side just how she's managed to bring the best out of Mertagne. However, one way she can do just that is to beat the team that beat Starblaydia, and so all eyes will surely be on Dannin City Stadium this week for what is sure to be an exciting match.

[Darmen]

Darmen Into Quarterfinals Following Second Straight Win On Penalty Kicks

OSTOSAIDE, MERTAGNE - For the second match in a row, Hyman Campo emerged as the hero for the All Greens by saving vital penalty kicks and denying Darmen's opponents victory. In Darmen's victory over Oberour Ar Moro, Campo was able to guess correctly and stop the shots of Pius Petitmesnil and Peterne de Courbueil, both of whom aimed for the lower left corner.

Dorian Kinnaird and Parthalán Wolfe had each scored a goal to give Darmen a 2-1 lead heading into the final minutes of the match, but a Petitmesnil goal in the closing minutes of the second half drew the scores level for the first time in the match and necessitated extra time for a second straight match for both sides. For Darmen, extra time echoed the extra thirty minutes played four days earlier, as neither Poafmersia, Oberour Ar Moro, or Darmen could manage to score, or even get a shot on goal, in extra time.

For the second straight match, Darmen's penalty takers made all four of their kicks from the mark, but just as in the penalty shootout with Poafmersia, much of the credit rests on Campo and his match winning saves. The 35 year old goalkeeper has played in 277 matches for the All Greens, the most of any player in the modern era and he shows no signs of slowing down.

Darmen's opponent in the quarterfinals is Eura. While any meeting with the Rushmori giant is always a big occasion, this one may take on special meaning if Darmen can win. Not only would it secure an appearance in the semifinals of the Cup of Harmony, but it would also mark the first victory for the All Greens over Eura in the modern era, as victory has eluded Darmen in their past eight meetings.

"There's no doubt we want to win," commented Campo following the win over Oberour Ar Moro, "We've never beaten Eura or Nephara in the modern era, so getting the win over Eura in the next match would be a big thing for us in so many ways. Hopefully we can do it in just ninety minutes, we'd rather not have to play extra time again and subject ourselves to further fatigue."

[Tumbra]

Mertagnian Half - Quarter-Final Cutoff

Mertagne 4–1 Savojarna

Eura 3–1 Darmen

Semi-Final

Mertagne vs Eura
@ Flynn Ar3na, New Fligsive, Plitterland (88,750)

The next cutoff window will open about 48 hours from this post.

[Mertagne]

Tumbran Half - Quarter-Final Scores

Cassadaigua 3–2 Chromatika

Audioslavia 3–2 Kuraita

Semi Final Matchup

Cassadaigua vs Audioslavia
@ Trenton Park, Lakewood, Severn (74,500)

[Kuraita]

KURAITASTRAVA
international

The Official International News Agency of The Republic of Kuraita

Two celebrations for one as Cigoras is sworn in

Arcjuga - Kuraita’s first democratically elected government in almost two decades became reality last week as Armandas Cigoras was elected as Prime Minister atop a left-liberal coalition. Today, he will be officially sworn in as the ceremony was pushed back to set up for a big public celebration, preceding Kuraita’s match in the Cup of Harmony against Audioslavia. Expectations are that we will see a big celebration around the nation, with people gathering to watch the official begin of their democratic governance period as well as the clash of the national team with the Bulls. We’ve been out to feel the pulse of the capital ahead of this historic day.

A long and sometimes curvy coalition negotiation finished last week, as Armandas Cigoras’ PN party opted to form a three-party coalition despite not needing the support of the Liberal and Democratic Party after he struck an agreement with the social democratic leader Ruks Konols. The agreement with Konols came as a surprise after the former union leader initially seemed apprehensive towards Cigoras, but with commitments to labour rights, he managed to secure Konols’ support. In return, the SDKP had dropped some of their stronger requirements regarding welfare state expansion; Cigoras agreed to shortening working hours and reverting key military-era provisions that lowered progressive taxes. The involvement of the Democratic Liberals was not planned as such, but came about to secure the support of President Daugavins as well as to prove the broad positioning of the government - or, as meaner tongues said, to put a chain on Konols.

Joy was big especially among the young people who supported PN in the first place. Kurtis Najmans, an Arcjugan young professional, spoke with our reporter in Arcjuga’s central district ahead of the ceremony. Walking through the streets with four friends, all clad in the Kuraitan colours, the group was shaping up for a big celebration. “We’re all here for the future. We’ve all voted PN, all of us, Cigoras is the man who got us here, we wanna see what he can do. I feel like we have a future again, we haven’t had that for so long, it was like lead under the army, and it’s all coming home now. I’m happy he did go with the broad base, I think it’s important to come together, and to party like we will. If we beat Audioslavia too, it will be the biggest party ever out here!”, he said. Rina Semunaite, an Auksturts student who came to Arcjuga specifically for the celebration, agreed. “I’ve voted for the Feminists, just because I want to see their voice pushed, but I’ve hoped Armandas governs with the Soce [the SDKP, ed.] - we need that energy, a government for the people, the left is the best at that, and people trust Armandas, we’re going to be looking into a new age!”, she said to our reporter.

The excitement is big especially amongst young people, but older workers and union members also held a rally outside the old union headquarters in the Arcjuga centre. The building is highly significant, as it was one of the last bastions of resistance to the Mandrins coup as well as abused as a prison and holding facility during the earlier Mandrins years, only returned to its original function during the “icebreaker” times when the fledgling regime stabilised itself by concessions. It is now a museum - and a popular protesting location, or today, celebrating location. An older worker and union activist, Rolfs Tretsjaks proudly and with some tears in his eyes shared his feelings with us. “It’s… It’s incredible. I remember the coup, I remember what it used to be like, and I have not seen our youth this enthusiastic in so long. We’re back, we’re free, it’s like they lifted a lid off the country”, the Arcjugan construction worker said. A factory worker from Valtspils who travelled down for the rally was more sceptical. “I am happy to have the democracy, I think it’s so important, but I’m not sure if I support Ruks decision to join up with Cigoras. I just don’t want us to sell, they need to keep fighting for us workers, it’s important we don’t just give Cigoras the keys to the country because he chased out Mandrins”, he said, thinking, before also adding: “But he did it, and I’ll forever be glad about that, I have to say that too”.

Down by the river in Kuraita’s nightlife district, people seemed more interested in the football. A large group of young men from Senakuraita, bringing plenty of flags and scarves with them and singing the national anthem and many fan chants. Fans of different Kuraitan teams briefly “clashed” in good-natured chants and singing contests, but without any violence at least until now. There, too, the ceremony that would make Cigoras Prime Minister of Kuraita was going to be shown on the big screens, but it was clearly the warm-up to the real event of the game against Audioslavia. “Cigoras, Cigoras, we’re here for Adomaitis”, a group responded laughingly to questions about the PM. Instead, they wanted to talk about Audioslavia, and the chances of their team - or just sing. Regardless of the result, the party is on in Arcjuga, and with the city already having announced a party night where there are no restrictions on opening hours, and public transport extended through the night, we expect a massive party indeed.

[Audioslavia]

I can’t get the fuc… the bloody zip of my tracksuit is stuck. Bloody hell I must look stupid right now. Why won’t the damn thing…

I make a small ‘yelp’ sound and everything goes dark for a couple of seconds. Someone’s yanked my tracksuit top from the back of my collar and yanked it over my head like an Ice Hockey player winning a fight. When the bottom of it finally comes over my head I see it’s Tom McFarland doing the tugging. I go to fix my hair, which I assume has been made into a mess, but I feel Dean Sharp’s hand on my shoulder.
“Son, if your first thought is ‘how does my hair look’ I swear to god…”
“Sorry boss”
“Don’t fuckin’ apologise neither” says Dean. “He’s here boss”
“Fuck happened to his hair” says RJ, before bounding out to the edge of her technical area and yelling abuse at Archer Flat for the fifth time in five minutes. Archer, in the distance, just shrugs. Further into the distance, a football is heading towards row Z. Even further into the distance a scoreboard reads Audioslavia 1-2 Kuraita. 80.

It had started so well. An early goal from Lazaro Patron had put…

“Who the flipping c*** are you talking to” bellows RJ, taking a short break from telling the fourth official to hurry the hell up with the substitute boards. “We’re a goal down with ten minutes to go in a major quarter final and you’re doing backstory? Get on that effing pitch and get me a fucking goal”
The board goes up. On: 9. Off: 5.
“Hold up” I say
“We’re going 4-4-2. What can I say, I’m feeling adventurous”
“Bloody hell” I say, and wait for Archer to traipse from the field. He looks annoyed at being substituted, let alone being taken off for a striker.
“You playing’ in defence then, young lad?” says Archer, raising the bit of his forehead where the average human would have eyebrows.
“Mate RJ’s mixing curse levels again”
“Shit, she must be furious”

There’s an awkward fist bump. I run onto the pitch. First point of order: Mis-control a high ball and let Kuraita in on the counter. Check. They get the ball up the left, Domantas Vaskevičius gets in goal-side of Obadele and diverts a cross goal wards that brings a save from Creighton to give Kuraita a corner. Instinctively I jog back for it, but Reuben Corkhill, who’s gone into the defence alongside Obadele, halts me with a quick ‘gebackupthepitch’ and a couple of choice expletives. I jog back up. Julho and I exchange upwards nods. Kuraita have been sniffing a third goal for the last ten minutes and two of the centre-halves, Stirs and Ozolinš, have gone up. If we can get a counter-attack together…

Corkhill gets to the corner first. It’s a weak header but it finds its way to Stelea who, knowing he’s got two strikers on the field with him for possibly the first time in the national team, hooks a garryowen of a pass into the night sky. Julho gets underneath it just inside the centre-circle and, considering the speed the ball is descending and the fact that he’s more concerned with his hair than I am, does well to direct a looping header across the field in my direction. It’s over the head of Varnis and into my path as I turn towards goal, still inside the centre circle. All this ball needs is a good touch as it comes down, so naturally I shin it towards the left side-line instead, towards RJ’s technical area. I try not to catch her eye as I curse and adjust my direction, get my head down and sprint towards the ball, with Kuraita right-back Audris Legrants furiously tracking back to intercept, right at the half-way line. I get there first to keep the ball in play, but the only thing to do is side-foot it in the general direction of Kuraita’s corner flag and try to maintain momentum as much as I can to go after it, which involves wheeling through our own technical area, outside of both RJ and Dean and almost losing my footing on a stray water-bottle. I manage to keep my feet as the ground turns from grass to astroturf to cement and back to grass as my arc takes me back towards the pitch. I know I’ve still got half a yard on Legrants, but the Kuraitan is able to run in a straight line and so, when we’ll get to this loose ball, we’ll be doing it simultaneously. I look up and see the goalkeeper is on the edge of his six yard box and has his back to me, running back into his goal. He’s clearly thought better of coming out to meet this loose pass. In the centre, Julho is sprinting into the area waving his arms in the air like he’s trying to hail every single one of a swarm of taxis. I get a shoulder in front of Legrants and try my hardest to arrow the ball towards Julho with my left foot. There’s no time for artfulness here. There are defenders covering Julho but there’s nothing else to do but hope they don’t get this pass.

Naturally, with this being my left foot, and a little off balance from the attentions of the full-back, I slice across the ball and send it spinning away from Julho’s run. There’s pace on it, though. And the goalkeeper’s barely set himself. He sees the ball late. He doesn’t quite have time to track back that extra few yards and dive. He maybe doesn’t see that it’s curling goal wards until it’s too late. His despairing dive gets him nowhere close to it as the ball spins wildly towards the crossbar on the far side of the goal, clicks the bottom of it with a satisfying ker-think and bounces off the foot of the rear of the far post.

My momentum carries me over the advertising hoardings, I lose my footing on the concrete behind it and slip, causing a nasty graze on my left hand and left wrist that I won’t notice for a few minutes. I’m too busy making out that I totally meant that in front of a few thousand Audioslavian fans tumbling over themselves to shout declarations of love at me.

“You jammy fuckin get” I hear from behind me as Unai Cappadonna jumps the advertising boards and lands on my shoulders.
“Meant it” I protest, as two more players jump on us.
“Did you fuck”

Five minutes later, it turns out my hand really hurts, but I figure if I told the management about it then, well, this would be my last cap. The tide has well and truly turned. Kuraita are failing to keep possession long enough to pin us back and the full-backs, Mata-Curie and Duran, are relishing being able to get up the flanks where are wingers are causing havoc. Iñigo Brandao, on for Patron a few minutes before my arrival into the game, is getting past his man more and more, and the first time he finds a low cross is the first time I get the ball inside the Kuraita area. My control is heavy but it’s into space. With my back to goal it’d be too much to ask of myself to turn, dance past the attentions of two defenders and score, but I see Cappadonna emerging into space on the edge of the D. A lay-off finds the midfielder, who feints a shot as I peel away from my man and head to the far post. Cappadonna instead plays the ball into space behind Stirs where Julho is arriving. Julho has just the keeper to beat but isn’t even looking at the goal. A square pass finds the space at the far post that I’m running into. It’s on my left foot again but even *I* can’t slice this one badly enough to miss. I hit the roof of the empty net with the shot and the Audioslavian fans behind the goal hit the roof of the stadium.

—

By the time we get showered, leave the stadium and get back to the hotel, the front and back pages of tomorrows newspapers are available online. Naturally I find myself flicking through the covers. The Cathair Herald has an image of me leaping the advertising boards, the Ceilerden Courier has a diagram of the so-called Impossible Goal, while others go for images taken behind the goal of the Kuraita keeper diving in vain towards a ball already just under the crossbar.

And the talk is already of Cassadaigua. And of History. One hundred years ago almost to the day, the Audioslavia national team reached the semi-final of World Cup 66 where they would lose to Rushmore powerhouse Polar Islandstates, with Eura defeating Mertagne in the other semi-final. A noteable similarity to today, with Eura vs Mertagne being the other semi-final of this tournament and Audioslavia going up against another tall, blonde Rushmori powerhouse. Cassadaigua are, like Audioslavia, a team that won their ‘only’ two World Cups back-to-back a dozen eras ago. Our last three meetings have been a World Cup second round knockout win for an average Audioslavia team against a good Cassadaigua team in cycle 88, the exact opposite of that at the same stage in World Cup 82 and, interestingly enough, a Cup of Harmony semi-final victory by the Bulls over the Dagans in cycle 80, the last time Audioslavia entered this tournament.

That time, the talk in the Audioslavian papers was about the Grand Slam, while the Dagan papers highlighted the unfortunate situation that lead to Audioslavia’s winning goal, with a striker going to ground easily in the Dagan box in a situation wherein, had the linesman been paying attention, shouldn’t have even happened. A classic moment of Audioslavian luck and shithousery, the likes of which we’ll need again if we’re to fight past the tall, powerful Cassadaigua team one more time.

[Cassadaigua]

While the 34th Regiment began moving forward with Kate Porter’s orders within C22, along the eastern end of the Northern Territory, it was the 29th Regiment, that was in the northwest of the annexed region. The responsibilities of this troop were different, as they did not have the interactions with civilians. Their job was to secure the new border, and once they reached the target location and fended off the pirates that legitimately tried to get in their way, they were essentially border security. They were aware of the news with the 34th Regiment, but maintained their focus on their task. General Jennifer Enright was in the woman in charge.

“General, our radars have been picking up a lot of unusual activity to the west of us,” Corporal Amy Heinrich began, “we have noticed several helicopters coming in, and then leaving. They seem to originate from the west.”

General Enright nodded, “Keep an eye on that. I will make sure that everyone is on guard extra closely in case something happens. It could be a number of things. A lot of those buses have gone west into that area, so it could have to do with that. It may just be that other countries are supplying them with humanitarian aid, or it could be a lot more serious. We’ll need to be ready for the latter, for sure. We can’t act on that for now, though. Like I said, it could be humanitarian aid.”

Heinrich nodded, “I hear ya. They do seem to be going back and forth so they are being supplied with something. Hopefully it’s food, and not guns.”

Back in Cassadaigua, today was about to become a historic day. The Royal Court had made their decision about what to do with Queen Cassie II. Never before had the Court forced a standing ruler to step down. There was a sense that this announcement was going to made, as time ticked away. Queen Cassie II had done a lot of great things for this nation, and it wasn’t a bad idea at all to annex the land to the north of us. Along the way, mistakes were made, with the most obvious one being what happened in Gastineau. Could it be possible for the Court to say that she should remain at this point? Such a vote of confidence would set a message that the nation was indeed okay with the massacre that occurred in Gastineau, as well as the deportations of innocent civilians. The Queen herself seemed confident that she was going to keep her crown, but perhaps that was just another example of her getting a little more delusional as she gets older.

Prince Craig, a son of Prince Clint (who’s the brother of Queen Cassie II), would be the one making the announcement. In a Royal Family where so much is interconnected, he was seen as one of the most neutral possible royals to make the statement.

“Good afternoon, Cassadaigua. The Court has made it’s decision concerning the future of the Queen, Her Highness Cassie the Second. Recent events in the Cooper River region brought about a concern that the Queen may not be using her best judgment. For the past little while, we have seen the absolutely devastating events in the town we now know as Gastineau. The images were shocking, and the Court will be trying the General of that operation, Hannah Torres, as the next major matter in which we tackle. While the Queen may not have known what went on there, she did authorize the deportation of innocent civilians by means of a bus, likely dropping people off to fend for themselves while the drivers, on orders, turned back around and gathered up another busload. The Court is not sure why this type of interaction with civilians was even necessary.

With that in mind, we listened to several Princesses to try and determine if we could go about things in a much better manner while not giving up on the mission at hand, or putting the lives of our women and men serving in the army in jeopardy. On this day, the Court has made the unprecedented decision by the powers allowed to us by Cassadagan law, to remove the crown from Cassie II.[i] (He pauses for a while to let that sink in for the listeners).[/i] By law, Cassie II is to surrender the crown within seven days and cannot make any decisions that would become law without the approval of this court, during those seven days.

The most challenging decision now, is what do we do next. We have come to the conclusion that for the next six years, we will divide Cassadaigua into two ruling regions. The current Cassadaigua as we know is one region, with the Cooper River Region, now informally to be called North Cassadaigua, though still considered to be Cassadaigua, will be a second region. The next rightful Queen of Cassadaigua is Cassie the Third. On this day, Cassie III is hereby declared to be the Queen of Cassadaigua, that is the current, traditional Cassadaigua. Furthermore, North Cassadaigua will have it’s own Queen for the next six years. We hereby declare Princess Brianna to be the Queen of North Cassadaigua. Cassie III will have no authority over Brianna’s land, and Brianna will have no authority over Cassie III’s land for the next six years.

Once the six years have concluded, the Court will revisit whether or not it is in the best interest of the country to maintain this new arrangement, or to give Cassie III authority over the North Cassadaigua portion. So there is no confusion, it will continue to be one country, just ruled in two regions. The reason for this decision to not allow Cassie II to have any more indirect authority over the Cooper River region. Both Cassie III and Brianna have handled themselves with dignity, and we have no reason to think that won’t continue going forward.

That is all.”

And with that, major history in Cassadaigua. What would happen now with the northern mission now with Brianna in charge of it? Brianna answered that question briefly saying, “It’s a big task to take on. I will be speaking with the advisors right away, but we will not be doing anything that puts our troops in danger.” Brianna also said, when asked about working with Cassie III, “We will obviously do the best for the nation. We’ve never not been able to communicate.” Cassie III was also asked about working with Brianna, and replied, “I do feel for my mother. It’s a new era, however, about to unfold. Brianna and I have disagreed but we have never not been able to get along. We can move forward, for the next six years now, and beyond with whatever is decided then.”

Cassie II did not say much but did comment that she will respect and honor the decision of the Court.


On to the semifinals,
by Chelsea Dufresne, Concord Heights Times

With the news of a new Queen, anything else being covered seems very secondary. But, we can think about other things once in a while, too, and the play of our soccer team in the Cup of Harmony is an opportunity to do exactly that. The Fillies had a very tough quarterfinal opponent, battling our former World Cup co-host, Chromatika, in front of a sold out crowd at Cuono Port Stadium in Napier. The neutral fans would have to pick a side, but both our nation and the Chromatiks brought plenty of people to Tumbra and they would make plenty of noise.

After conceding the game’s opening goal to Vasiliy Marten Kuznetsov in the 13th minute, the Fillies didn’t take long to respond, with Morgan Rosenblatt delivering a beautiful cross to Jenna Frontiera, that the forward handled expertly and fired to the left of the starting keeper for Cazadores Cathair in Audioslavia, Juxon Fillar, to make it 1-1 in the 19th. That’s where the score would stay for the rest of the first half as both teams had their moments, but for the most part, strong midfield play by both ends kept chances down, not giving a lot of excitement to those who think soccer is all about goal scoring.

Things would open up in the second half as both Brittany Byers and Lisa Amos (an interim manager) picked up on ways to generate more opportunities. Shot chances picked up, but either the defense or the goalkeepers were up to the task for the first fifteen or so minutes of half number two. Eventually, we would get our next goal, as a great passing play originating with Morgan Rosenblatt and Krystal Sherwin, was eventually capitalized on by Bayley Stanton, and the Concord Heights City star scored in the 63rd to make it 2-1. But just like Chromatika didn’t lead long in the first half, we would not lead long here. A great piece of footwork by Haley Hauser led to a tremendous snipe that beat Cynthia Kerr to her right, making it 2-2 in the 71st. All square again. The Fillies would substitute their two young substitute forwards, Chloe Anderson and Rachel Bolden, for Bayley Stanton and Kelsey Worth in the 77th, and going to a 4-3-3. With them, and Frontiera and Rosenblatt still making plays, the eventual hero of this match, Tara Kriedel, would not have been the first choice to get the game winner, but she was in the right place at the right time for a rebound of a Jenna Frontiera shot that Fillar could not control, and scored the decider in the 84th. Cassadaigua would hold the Anomalies off from there, and get the victory.

Up next for Cassadaigua, will be Audioslavia. Heading into World Cup qualifying, we were one spot behind the Bulls in the rankings, and each in the top ten. Just like us, they did not want to be here, but since they are here, they are also determined to go home with a title. This is obviously a legit World Cup matchup right here, and very well could have been a World Cup semifinal. This year. Fate didn’t have it that way, and both are well aware of what the other is capable of, no matter what the tournament they are playing in, is called. It will be a great one!

[Eura]

CUP OF HARMONY 83 – QUARTER-FINALS
Eura 3–1 Darmen
Scorers:
Bowman 3, Malone 30, Atkinson 53
Lineup:
1. E Palmer
4. J Menard
15. K Sherwood
5. T Green
24. J Gates
8. V Robshaw (sub Vincent 78)
11. B Malone (sub James 60)
7. M Woakes
18. D Bowman
10. C Atkinson
9. S Robson (sub Sharp 65)

---

‘…in addition to its latest call for calm in Pasarga, a Euran government spokesperson claimed today that the shock forced abdication of Cassie II of Cassadaigua, and the pending court martial of a senior military officer, was a “tacit admission of guilt” on the part of the Dagan state to ethnic cleansing in the disputed Cooper River region. In brief remarks to the press in the absence of the Foreign Secretary who is abroad until tomorrow, Minister for Rushmore Tyra Addleton spoke to our programme just before we came on the air. Here is what she had to say…’
‘Yes, of course we are going to be speaking to the Dagans as soon as possible about what this means for their country, for their relations with us and others and so on. I believe the Foreign Secretary is very keen to hold discussions Cassie III and Brianna in person at some point soon. But really the core issue here is the Cooper River region. Judging by the rhetoric coming out of Concord Heights, you would think Gastineau was an unhappy little mistake and everyone between the Cooper River and Cassadaigua’s border is having a wonderful time.’
‘Does that mean no change in Eura’s position, minister?’
‘Until there is a change in Dagan policy, no. Like I said, we are not reassured by the tone of the new leadership in their public comments so far. There is a fundamental issue of the Cooper River invasion being an illegitimate act of settler colonialism enforced by a monarchy-regime without any kind of democratic mandate.’
‘But you’re open to discussions surely?’
‘Always. But those discussions are not going to have a productive outcome without a Dagan withdrawal from the Cooper River region. Until that moment comes, we will continue working up our options, and I can tell you now that we are very close to finishing a draft of our first package of sanctions to penalise their actions. I hope they will change course.’

---

‘This is an opportunity, I’m telling you!’ Alain was exacerbated by the caution – no, cowardice – of some of the River Republic’s motley crew it called a “leadership council”.
‘We are not ready Alain. What if something goes wrong? We’ve only been training our followers for militant actions for a matter of days. We should be waiting before throwing ourselves into a fight.’
‘I’m not talking about starting a full-blown insurgency before we are ready, I just want us to send a message – that the armed struggle is nigh and the criminal regime of Cassadaigua will feel the pain if they choose to ignore us!’ Alain seemed to have most of the room on side, but he could tell there were doubters among him from the nervous glances they were giving one another.
‘What do our Euran friends think’ asked one with their arms crossed, unimpressed, ‘or are they too busy telling farm boys how to shoot to grace our presence?’
‘They agree with me’ Alain claimed, ‘and they can get us what we need for this operation alongside what is already being sent. Stop referring to them by their nationality anyway. What did I tell you? They have told us not to discuss it.’ The council member rolled their eyes in response, but didn’t object verbally, suggesting they were no longer going to argue the point.

‘Just trust me’ continued Alain, ‘this is the best course of action now that the Dagans have moved to remove Cassie the Warmonger. Putting her daughter on the throne, with the usurper Brianna pawned off here to rule us like a little fiefdom? We must act decisively and early in order to make it clear that simply swapping one butchering monarch for another will not make us rest. No. We will do the opposite! We will carry out a symbolic strike to make a statement, showing the occupiers their authority will be resisted by the people here, and that Cooperites should rule their region, not a puppet of Concord Heights! It will sow panic and discord in their ranks, and they will wonder what we might do next. And if the weapons keep coming, and we can get hundreds, thousands trained up…then the cause will be given fresh heat. Let us do this for those on the other side of the river if nothing else – they can’t afford to wait like we can in our refuge, the Dagans occupy them now and people are dying now. Let’s show them we are no pirates! The Dagans are going to be fighting liberators!’

---

Camp Courier was now operating at a decent flow, though it would be a little while yet before it would be fully operational. Each day, a dozen refitted Sameban helicopters with no identifying markings were flying lengthy flights to Flea Town and other settlements on the edge of the Cooper River region. They would drop off a continuous supply of small arms weapons such as handguns, semi-automatic rifles, sub-machine guns, basic sniper rifles, small numbers of heavier machine guns and light explosives, and even a few light anti-tank launchers (the Eurans had hinted they would deliver anti-air and heavier anti-tank kit once the supply chain was more established, but none had arrived just yet). Each helicopter would leave behind a Phalanx mercenary to train the so-called River Republic’s “recruits”; flights that came afterwards would then rotate out the trainers and replace them with a new batch. Phalanx were dealing largely with volunteers with zero military experience, untrained civilians taking up arms. Vive la revolution, indeed.
This kept up the pace of progress, but it would be some time before these people would be able to fight as a cohesive insurgency, if they managed it at all.

There were also setbacks, some expected and some more surprising; a few accidents in training (one of them fatal for a local), donated equipment going missing, and locals ruining kit when moving it across the river without due care.
Most of all, it was clear that the River Republic was still just a loose group lead by Alain Poitou which was still working out its structure and recruiting people in enough numbers to make them a large scale resistance.
However, on a small scale, it took only days to start forming some bonds.
Kane had flown out there himself and was now being introduced to a team of six young River Republic volunteers. All were aged somewhere between their mid-to-late teens and late twenties. Two had been farmers, one a baker, another a scavenger, the fifth had been a roaming wanderer and the final volunteer, a furious looking man of just 22, was himself a Dagan citizen who had happened across the group while doing charity work in Flea Town. According to Alain, these guys were the best in training that same day.
And tomorrow they would be doing something special.

---

The Sameban HU-3 “Puppy” was a venerable aircraft among Samebans and Eurans alike. Based on an old license-free design and copied by many nations in some form, the Sameban variant was a common feature of the penultimate war between the two countries over half a century ago. By the time of the last and greatest conflagration, it had taken on a reduced role, but thousands remained in service with the Sameban Republican Army in a variety of roles. A significant number had survived the conflict and were now doing their bidding for a private Euran company on the other side of the region, as if their original place of manufacture and service were but a strange dream. That’s how Phalanx Company helicopter pilot Charlie thought of it, which was weird.
‘Charlie buddy, you’ve got to stop talking about these things like they’re alive. Your chopper doesn’t dream mate.’ Charlie’s co-pilot, Stagger, was making that very point to him as they were flying one.
‘Sssh, don’t listen to him Pup, he’s nothing but a fool.’ Charlie tapped the dashboard in the cockpit affectionately, and in doing so noticed their altitude had drifted a little too high. He dipped the nose and they dropped back into the canyon in front of them.

Only a few days into the Company’s operations in the region, Kane had noticed on a flight in to Flea Town that his pilots were prioritising speed over stealth, passing over all kinds of terrain at a fair clip with little concern for being spotted on radar. Kane couldn’t be sure, but he suspected the Dagans would have spotted a few of their flights by now. To address the problem, he ordered all of his pilots to fly slower, but stealthier, hugging the ground at low altitude, below the height at which radar would be able to detect them.
This was no problem for Charlie who loved ducking and dodging through valleys and skipping across wide open fields just a few feet off the ground. It gave him his fix of excitement and kept him on his toes. Stagger was less keen.
‘Fuck mate, watch the treeline!’
Charlie abruptly pulled up to avoid a forest, levelling out barely about the tips of the trees.
‘Five miles to target’ Stagger added, ‘you might want to slow down.’
‘And make ourselves an easy spot for prying Dagan eyes? No way man. We’re doing this my way.’

Stagger thought about objecting but realised it to be futile and kept his mouth shut, instead trying to keep focused on his instruments as Charlie loudly sang (out of tune) an old song he had playing on the radio. Suddenly, a puff of orange smoke appeared on a barren hilltop directly in front of them. ‘There! That’s the clearing. The rebs must be down there. Bring us in carefully!’
Charlie went for a mix of safety and style. He slowed down responsibly and kept the bird level on descent, but added a flourish by dropping suddenly in the last few seconds and bringing them to a hover a foot above the hilltop.
‘Arsehole!’
‘Ah, you love me really.’
A group of six “Cooperites” appeared at the side of the helicopter. Stagger left his seat and slid the door open, and started handing them duffel bags full of equipment…and one long, slightly heavier steel container.

---

Private Kelly Monroe couldn’t believe what she had just seen.
‘I can’t have been the only one that saw that!’
Unfortunately, no-one else in her troop believed her. She could swear she had seen a small helicopter zip down the bottom of the valley they were entering, somehow not crashing into a tree every few seconds at a gasp-inducing low altitude, but no-one else had been paying attention. They were too busy focusing on the map. ‘And so should you be!’ Sergeant Warner told her, warning Private Monroe that she wasn’t doing her job properly. ‘We need to make sure we’re going to the right village, not hallucinating these people magicking up helicopters from nowhere. They don’t even have supermarkets, what makes you think they’ve mastered flight?’
‘But-‘
‘Private, get over here, that’s an order!’
Monroe reluctantly followed her orders and joined the others in trying to work out the rest of their route.

The squad were members of the army of Cassadaigua, participating in the planned annexation of the Cooper River region. They had seen very little action out here – one local farmer took some pot-shots with a shotgun, then surrendered the moment he was challenged by their machine gun-equipped offroad vehicles. But that was it so far.
However, from what they had heard, that wasn’t the case everywhere. Gastineau included, this area – the strip of the region running parallel to the river and the north and western, mostly French-speaking parts far away from the original border with Cassadaigua – was supposedly proving much harder to occupy. Settlements were more tucked away, the locals more hostile to Dagan rule, and they were much more likely to be armed. They were regularly yelled at passing through villages and locals threw rocks at their vehicles. Their commanders had also told the Dagan troops to be on the lookout for pirates and gangs, but it seemed like even the civilian population was worryingly hostile.

Sergeant Warner was unfussed by all of this. Their squad was a light recon unit after all, ten women and men mounted on two armour-free, open top offroad cars, who were tasked with rapidly moving between different settlements in this remote area and monitoring them for any suspicious activity. They were not here to hang around and make friends. Investigate, interrogate, exfiltrate; that was the motto Warner put in her troops heads every day. And, after all, the people of this region were not exactly civilised, Warner argued. If anyone takes a pop at us, we’ll deal with them very easily. Nothing to worry about!
Private Monroe wasn’t so sure. They had been ok so far, but it would only take one bit of bad luck to put them all in danger. Like all of them Monroe was a professional soldier and had no concern about using force if needed, but she had been told not to expect it to be necessary before coming here, and some of the friendlier reactions of locals nearer to the border with Cassadaigua had fuelled that mistaken belief - that even the most far-flung parts of the Cooper River would welcome Dagan troops with open arms. This had all been on her mind nearly constantly for several days, but she tried not to think about it as they continued along the road to their next destination. She was sat in the back of the lead vehicle, behind the Sergeant and another squad member sat in front.

‘Village coming up. What’s this one, Corporal Perry?’
‘Uhhh, D40. I think. Might be D42.’
‘Come on, really? Are we going to have to turn around again-‘
Private Monroe suddenly felt a warm splash of liquid on her face. She didn’t react at first, instead curiously holding her right hand up to touch her cheek. She pulled her hand away and saw it was smeared with red. She blinked a few times to check it wasn’t just blurred vision or tiredness. She wasn’t imagining it.
Then she looked up and realised that Sergeant Warner was slumped over the driver’s wheel with a big exit wound on the back of her neck.
Private Monroe’s instincts and training finally kicked in. She dismounted off the side of the vehicle in a clumsy roll – usually dismounting was not the right thing to do, but these vehicles were not well protected enough to make standing still a good option – and found herself dropping into a ditch at the side of the track.
Only now did it become clear that her squad had been ambushed. Perry was down too now, though clearly alive from the loud yelling of expletives as she crawled into the ditch alongside Monroe. The other two in the back seat with Monroe had dismounted and were now firing into a line of bushes off to the right, and within a few seconds the entire squad were doing exactly the same.

Eventually, the gunfire stopped.
‘What the heck was that?’ Monroe gasped. Perry said nothing. ‘Suzie?’ She was trying to grab the Corporal’s attention, but her shock at what had happened had not passed, and Monroe quickly realised she was very pale…and had a bullet wound in her shoulder. ‘Ok Suzie, just-‘
There they were. A lone individual, holding an old rifle of some kind, stepping out into the dirt track right in front of them. Without hesitation, Monroe raised her gun and shot them twice in the chest. They fell immediately and without a sound. ‘Hey, guys! I scratched one down the road!’
‘Nice job!’ The rest of the squad was in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. She had no idea who had yelled back. Just as it seemed the danger had passed, a shrieking, whistling projectile flew barely two feet above her head and impacted the second vehicle, blowing it apart and throwing shrapnel everywhere. Monroe was thankfully unhit yet again, but Perry had taken some shrapnel, and now she wasn’t moving either. The gunfire returned.

An hour of terror followed; the troops stuck in an awful, exposed position just outside the village. The villagers seemed to have fled bar a handful who were standing and watching from their houses as if it were a live show.
By the time help arrived in the form of a backup patrol and a medical evacuation, Warner and Perry were confirmed KIA. Three wounded. Two locals dead, both armed, but with no clear motive or identification. It was an effective ambush, but chaotic, with the one Monroe shot having exposed themselves foolishly in a way one of the trained Dagans never would have. Others in the squad reckoned as many as four others had been firing at them and had gotten away, “getting lucky” one soldier remarked. None of them could account for what had blown up the second vehicle. A tutting Captain leading the unit that had come to help them said it was “probably just black market gear they took’, because after all, ‘they’re all thieves around here.’
Private Monroe did not believe that for a second. This was more than gangsters and crooks. And if anyone was lucky to be alive, it was Monroe and her squad, not the vanished local fighters whom she couldn’t even see.

---

www.rushleak.com
New video posted 1 minute ago:
ANNOUNCEMENT – RIVER REPUBLIC STANDS TALL!

‘Greetings, Rushmore and the wider world!’ said the man in front of the camera, wearing a balaclava. Several others stood behind him with an assortment of weapons, mostly vintage rifles and agricultural weapons like shotguns and 22. Rifles. But in the mix were a couple of old Sameban standard issue rifles, and what was possibly a Euran manufactured, export licensed (not Euran standard issue) machine gun. The picture was grainy.
And deniable thought the Ticker, as he watched the video unfold on his laptop.
‘You may be asking yourself; who are you? What is this? I…I am everyone. Everyone in the lands without a name, but which the news channels in your country probably call Cooper River, or some variation on that term. As an individual you may never learn my name. So, just know, that I and my comrades here represent the will of the repressed native peoples of these lands. People who have been crushed by the jackboot of Cassadaigua, the criminal Queendoom, in an unprovoked act of colonial barbarism!’ The others holstered their weapons and stood at attention beside the man in the balaclava.
‘Let it be known from this day forward, that the River Republic – our organisation – has commenced a revolutionary struggle against the brutal conquest of what the international community calls the Cooper River region, and the ongoing illegal presence of Dagan looters and butchers. We remember Gastineau, and all the other little skirmishes you don’t hear about, and the mass deportations. We remember! We will never forget. Nor will we forgive. We call on all free people in our lands, and anyone from beyond who wishes to support the cause of freedom, to join us!’

‘And to prove our commitment to the cause, I bring news of our first successful military operation. This evening, just before dusk, our heroic warriors assaulted an occupier patrol outside the village of Saint-Henri, keeping them out of a free settlement that rejects Dagan rule! Half a dozen occupiers were struck down, and at least two of them will not be getting up again. We also destroyed an occupiers vehicle, its blood-soaked tyres unable to sully our precious soil any longer. Sadly, two of our brave soldiers were lost in this assault, but this is the kind of sacrifice we are willing to make for our cause. They died for a cause! Remember that, and remember us, because our campaign will not end until the forces of Cassadaigua return to their pre-invasion borders. Cassie the Third, Brianna – make no mistake. We do not want you and your pawns here. If you care for your boys, you will bring them home to their families, before we send them home in coffins! Death to the invaders! Long live the River Republic!’ The video ended abruptly on that note.
The Ticker closed his laptop. One of his closest confidants was sat behind him, watching along too.
‘He’s an interesting fellow. Alain, did you say his name was?’
‘Alain Poitou.’
‘Hmm. You really think he can free his homeland?’
‘No’ the Ticker responded with shocking indifference, ‘but I don’t need him to.’

[Mertagne]

This RP references some Mertagnian history, which I don't expect newer readers (or older readers, to be honest) to be familiar with. What you need to know is:
Eura and Mertagne are intrinsically connected through the Euran Oceania Territories - the homeland of many generations of Mertagnians that built the new nation of Mertagne in the aftermath of the Corvidae War. During that war, resistance forces sailed across Lake Bekk in the "Week of the Small Ships" to an 'abandoned' city state known as Leorudo, which became Mertagne's first capital, Neorudo. Eura purchased the lands controlled by Corvidae during the war and built the Euran Oceania Territories, a proud protectorate of Eura that stands tall in Anaia (cutting it fine after a referendum) today.

Tyrell Gulliver sauntered out onto the empty pitch of the Flynn Ar3na as the dusk settled in and the summer air began to cool. The lights of the stadium were reduced to a minimum, and the emergent glow of old lighting was all with which he had to navigate as he made his way to the shadowy figure in the middle.

"We're early, then." he said to a black-clad and hatted Kristie Ettrick. She reminded him of some sort of costumed witch.

"Relatively speaking, everyone who's going to be here tonight is. I just happened to be in the area and fancied a walk. It's not hard to blag entry past security when you've got an FMF pass." Kristie Ettrick said as she dangled the lanyard in front of Gulliver. "I guess they conveniently forgot about yours?"

"I look old enough to either be harmless, know what I'm doing, or decidedly not know what I'm doing." Tyrrel replied, tapping his head. "I can't say I've been here too often, though. Is it always this... quiet?"

The stadium, almost reacting to Gulliver's speech, let out an eerie drone as the summer winds blew through the top section.

"Only if you're not listening." said Ettrick. "Look around you, anyway, we're not the only ones here." She scanned an arm across the top section of the stadium, which was usually uninhabited at match-time, but now contained several figures moving between the faceless, now formless in the shadows metal statues that adorned the stadium's top section, and were responsible for the echoes that this stadium always presented, even when nobody was there to hear them.

Across the field, a small stage was undergoing construction, the only real spotlighted area of the pitch. All of the electronic advertising boards sat blank, the seats remained unlit, and the two former Mertagnian managers sat on a bench at the side-lines.

"I hope plenty of people come along. I think it's a bit much to ask Eurans to get up in the middle of the night, to be honest." said Kristie as the first few people passed through the tunnel and made their way onto the pitch looking around in amazement, clutching a circular object under their shoulders.

"You'd be surprised. They've got a habit of turning up when it's darkest, right?" Gulliver laughed. "At least, that's what Grandad used to say. I'm a quarter Euran, you know, by heritage, although when you add the EOT into the mix, it's a lot more muddy. What about you? Any family that stayed across the pond, or are you a full Mertagnian convert?"

Ettrick smiled. "I'm a bit of a complicated story that nobody really talks about. I'm actually a half - well, two separate quarters, really, Leorudan. The government would have the outside world believe that the Corvidae resistance just walked into the city down south, but believe it or not, people were living there. People all over the country were, and still are."

"I suppose it helps in a way that you can be called a Mertagnian if you fill in a few forms, belt out a couple of lines of the anthem, and stick a thumb up at a lime flag. A lot easier to bring everyone into a group if there's not too much defining it in the first place, right?" Gulliver replied.

"Well, we had freedom. That defined us, right? And eventually it managed to take root across the pond, too. Our history is a bit like how they grow good oranges, I guess." Kristie smiled.

Tyrrel looked quizzically. "How do they grow good oranges?"

"So, you take a good looking young orange branch, and you graft that onto an older lemon tree that isn't doing so great at bearing fruit. With the combined youthful vigour of the orange branch, and the established root network of the lemon tree, you bear better oranges. Naturally, you can graft any type of citrus together, so a natural consequence of this is that you could get limes. Which fits rather nicely into my heavy-handed metaphor."

"So I get that Mertagne is the limes. Is the Syndicate the old lemon tree or the young orange branch? Because Eura's an older country than the Syndicate was, but they were also the ones that came in and liberated the old country."

"It's a work in progress. It doesn't matter. They're better together, right? That's something worth thinking about."

Gulliver furrowed a brow. "I suppose. You can see the same things happening now all over the world - the Northlands, that rapidly unfolding situation in North Cassadaigua..."

"Yes and no. You lot were fleeing tyranny when you came to Leorudo. There was space for you, and an agreement drawn up. Arguably, we all integrated, seeing that we'd be better than the sum of our parts." Ettrick interlocked her fingers. "The United Clans, that's different. Tumbra aren't fleeing anything. They just want somewhere to build luxury suburban houses. That clashes with the ethos of the Clanspeople. In Cooper River, the Dagans aren't fleeing anything. They just think the land is theirs, and aren't giving anyone a choice. Ethnically, you can argue the lands are Sicoutian. To compare to Mertagne, at least you guys were heading 'back' to Wesaxe."

"Why's it 'you guys', when A: I come from Euran heritage, and B: You also come from Fligsivi heritage?" Gulliver asked.

"Because I'm not speaking for the Fligsivi right now. I'm speaking for the Leorudans. I have a right to, I have that voice."

"Okay, but what's going on now in Rushmore and Esportiva is the same concept, it's just that perhaps the Leorudans took the opportunity better than both sets of Northlanders are."

"Tyrrel, people died." Ettrick said with a perturbed look on her face.

Gulliver stood up and gestured all around him. "And ours didn't?"

By now the field of the Flynn Ar3na was beginning to fill with people, most dressed in black, each clutching a small torch in one hand and these circular objects clutched under the shoulder with the other. People from all walks of life mingled as they entered the field, speaking in hushed tones - young, old, rich, poor, Euran, Mertagnian, and beyond - as the crescent moon dragged itself across a cloudless sky.

As the old analogue clock that hung above the stadium's electronic scoreboard, looking ever out of place as it was rescued from "John" train station in Fligsive, crept ever closer to midnight, thousands eventually poured into the stadium, and the stage constructed, a small group began to gather on it, with few dressed in military garb adorned with medals.

Approximately five minutes before midnight, someone began to speak, the speakers placed on stage crackling into life, and the stadium's internal communication system picking up the speech in dampened tones over the wind, which had begun to pick up.

"Thank you, folks, for joining us here this evening. The Week of the Small Ships is, of course, a month or so away, so thank you for joining us here so early, and also so late at night. I've heard we've got a good Euran contingent this evening who will be here once again to watch the football later in the week - it's thanks to you that we've elected to do this tonight, so we appreciate that so many of you have taken us up on the offer."

Some muted cheers arose from a sub-contingent of the Eurans on the field, and polite applause came from the rest.

"As you know, nearly a century ago, Mertagnians and Eurans united against the banner of fascism and tyranny that ravaged what is now the Euran Oceania Territories. Through a hard fought campaign, the Syndicate was liberated, although sadly at great cost. The ensuing Fligsive Disaster saw unprecedented loss of life, and in the Week of the Small Ships, which commemorates a week in which Mertagnian migrants made a fraught journey across Lake Bekk, aided by resistance efforts to confuse enemy intelligence and Euran air defence, we commemorate the lives lost in the conflict. Fligsive citizens and allied combatants who are forever commemorated in the names above us here and beyond - we do not forget them."

The stadium droned as the wind whistled past the faceless statues, who carried the names of those never able to see their nation and people prosper once again, as it has under both a Euran and Mertagnian banner.

"We come now to midnight, so if you could all hold your lanterns ready."

The people on the field jostled as they pulled the collapsible, biodegradable sky lanterns from under their shoulders, holding them aloft with a hand attached to a pull tag that would light them without the need for a lighter.

As the minute arm of the clock clicked into place signifying the middle of the night, the lanterns were released, lighting up the stadium with a warm orange glow and rising, up past the stands, up past the statues, and into the night sky of New Fligsive. Under the crescent moon, the crowd stood silently, mirrored in number by the pinpricks of light that had been released from the Flynn Ar3na and the stars above.

Tyrrel Gulliver lightly nudged Kristie Ettrick as the two of them stood together. "I'm sorry if I was inflammatory. At the end of the day, we're all just trying to survive in this crazy multiverse, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Live and let live, right?", she said as she grabbed the old man's hand.

[Mertagne]

Tumbran Half - Semi-Final Scores

Cassadaigua 1–4 Audioslavia

[Tumbra]

Mertagnian Half — Semi-Final Cutoff

Mertagne 2-3 Eura

Third-Placed Playoff

Cassadaigua vs Mertagne
@ Cop Limy Stadium, Neorudo, Touchpoint (96,300)
(scorinated by Tumbra)

The Final of the 83rd Cup of Harmony

Audioslavia vs Eura
@ Serrapince Park, Serrapince, Bechor (74,500)
(scorinated by Mertagne)

[Audioslavia]

A Day in the Multiverse

(sung to the tune of A Day in the Life by The Beatles)

I read the news today, oh boy
About a Rushmore queen who lost her crown
And though the news was rather sad
The moment's opportune
We play the Dagans soon

She lost her power in the north
She hadn’t noticed those Samebans there
The rest of Rushmore stood and stared
At this uncertain dawn
Nobody is really certain where the borders will be drawn

I saw a film today, oh boy
A Euran army claims it’s won the war
These ‘Dagan Looters’ don’t exist
But I get the gist
They’re propaganda-ists

<orchestral crescendo>

Got up, got off the bench
Dragged a tracksuit over my head
Missed a fist bump and ran on the pitch
And looking up, I saw the corner come

Watched a Dagan head it out
It dropped to me, gave it a clout
I watched the ball hit the back of the net
I ran to the corner and all the fans went:

AaaaaaaaaAaaaAaaAaaaaaaaaAaaaAaaaAaaaAaaaaAaaaaaaa
AaaaaaaaAaaaaaaAaaaaaaaaAaaaaAaaaaaaaaAaaaaAaaaaaa
Aaaaaaaaaaaa Aaaaaaaaa

I read the news today, oh boy
Four Auren goals in Lakewood, Tumbra
And though the goals were rather ugly
They had to count them all
Now they know how many goals it takes to make the Dagans fall

And now bring on Eura

<another massive orchestral crescendo>
<and probably ending on a large chord in the key of L>

[Cassadaigua]

How will this work, exactly?
By Kelsey LeClair, Concord Heights Times, Current Events

The Royal Court made their decision in regards to Queen Cassie II, and to her credit, our now former queen has accepted the ruling and declared that she will officially step down in four days, well within the period permitted to her by the Court. During that time, she said her focus will be on helping her daughter transition into the role. Sounds reasonable. But the decision to effectively split up Cassadaigua, while still being just one Cassadaigua is a little odd. We can hope that it doesn’t perform as badly as the Fillies did against Audioslavia in the Cup of Harmony 83 semifinal, and it probably won’t. The key here will be communication between Cassie III and Brianna, and they claim that they have always been able to talk to one another. And that’s true. At public events when succession was not the top of the day, the two Princesses have always seemed as though they got along, and I think that was a main reason there was not any major mudslinging between the two of them. They traded some barbs between one another that would be the equivalent of a Brattleboro FC defender teasing a Concord Heights City forward. There would be a rivalry, but at the same time, you could see the two players hanging out a bar and talking about a variety of topics. Same thing goes with the two Princesses. So, they will be able to communicate.

On the surface, the Court made a great decision to not allow Cassie III to have any authority on the Cooper River mission. This way, Cassie II will have no more influence on it, and some of Cassie II’s actions have been questionable, at best. The deportations of innocent civilians have been the major sticking point in terms of general policy. Gastineau is on a different scale, and arguably something outside of Cassie II’s control, but Cassie II cannot claim that the deportations were not her policy. Now, Cassie III can take the lead of the nation, the traditional nation, and focus on that. She will have no authority on the Cooper River mission, but certainly her and Brianna will have conversations about it. They have too. But now, that’s Brianna’s mission, and she’s already taking steps to try and make things better, which I will go over in a moment.

Once the Cooper River is officially annexed, and it’s six years from now, that’s when the drama may come back to a head. Will Brianna just concede authority? I think it’s a little unfair to her, if she does well, to make her do so. More than likely, it will become the land she governs, as the Court initially said Cassie III would have to provide. Others have wondered if “North Cassadaigua” will eventually become an independent nation. That’s not a story for now, and a lot of that will depend on what happens within the six years. But, you can see the concern. What would a “North Cassadaigua” be like, and if it were independent, would it even take on a new name? I don’t think it is going to come to that, but if there is a breakdown in communication between Cassie III and Brianna, then it just might.

As for Brianna, she made a major announcement on her first day of controlling the Cooper River mission, and I will provide the transcript of her statement. Unfortunately, it comes on the heels of a tragic day on that front as the lives of two soldiers, Leah Donnelly and Victoria Grogan, were lost. Two others were said to have sustained non life-threatening injuries. An unknown man, in a recorded statement after the attack, claimed responsibility and referenced the group as “The River Republic”. The statement provided a glimpse of the dangers that our troops are in, and possibly what may be left to come. It is unknown who this man was working for, and if Eura had anything to do with it. There were a couple people with guns visible during the recorded statement, and they looked to be modern weaponry, not something that was attained cheaply. Is there someone assisting this group? Right now, no fingers are being pointed by those in official positions, but people at home can suspect that it could be Eura that is assisting them. By the way, wouldn’t a Cup of Harmony final have been interesting against them? Anyway, Brianna’s statement must be covered, so here it is!

“Good morning, Cassadaigua, and the rest of the World. For me, today should have been an exciting day as I now take on the leadership in the Cooper River mission and in the general territory, but it is instead a tragic day. We lost two lives. Leah Donnelly, a 23-year old from White Mountain, and Victoria Grogan, a 24-year old from Northbury, were killed when an opposition group, referencing themselves as “The River Republic”, attacked the 29th Regiment. Let us have a moment of silence for them. (Brianna pauses for about 60 seconds). Our troops countered this unexpected attack in a valiant and heroic manner. I am told that it was similar to terrorist attack, with moderate organization to it. To the leaders of this organization, I ask you to not engage in any similar attacks. Let us allow peace to prevail in the region.

On this day, and this is an announcement I was going to make regardless of the attack we sustained, I am declaring that we will no longer be deporting citizens out of the Northern Territory. Additionally, I acknowledge that these people have sustained a tremendous inconvenience, and because of that, the Cassadagan government, will provide reparations to those that were deported, and transport them back to their villages. We will try and work out an arrangement, in communication with our bus drivers, to where we can pick people back up. We will also be making monetary payments to those who chose to stay for the hardships that they faced as well. Over the next little bit, our focus will be on righting the terrible wrongs that we put on people.

Troops will be sent to the new northern border to make sure it is secure, and that no one looks to harm any of the civilians that choose to return to their homes. I hope that this can be the start of a great day for all of us. Let us stand united and be proud to be Cassadagans! We will all be Cassadagans and we will make this land great!”

[Audioslavia]

Once my team-mates have gotten off me I get to my feet and give the sky a bit of a rawr and a waggle of my biceps. I cross back to my own half of the pitch and look up at the scoreboard. Cassadaigua 1-3 Audioslavia. 80.

I’d been frustrated by being left out of the starting line-up. Two goals in our last game, on form, the boss had gone with Julho once more and we again started by shutting up shop entirely. 4-6-0. Operation: Repel.

Julho, like me, prefers playing up front, and like me it can be difficult to not naturally drift into that direction, finding the shoulders of the defenders and trying to give your team an outlet. Instead, the idea with our 4-6-0 is to bring the defenders to you, give them a bit of a confidence that they’re not always in danger of that ball over the top of the defence, allowing your wingers to make the breakthrough. He’d kept drifting forwards, and he kept getting it in his ear from Dean and RJ about his lack of discipline.

After half an hour, he finally got it into his head that he needed to get stuck in in the midfield. It paid dividends immediately. Kelsey Werth had picked up the ball and played a loose, casual pass forward to Frontiera. Stelea, sensing the danger, had nipped in to take a touch and, without even looking, played a frankly ridiculous diagonal ball with the outside of his right foot that curled between two defenders and rolled towards the right hand side of the pitch in Cassadaigua’s half - an area Letexier had started sprinting into from the moment Werth’s pass looked to be rolling short of its target. Letexier’s first touch was heavy, taking the ball to the corner of the area and almost inviting Kerr to come and get it, but the Cassadaigua keeper hesitated and, eventually, paid for it. The square ball found Brandao at the far post, Brandao cut inside and laid it off to Julho Viscondessas, and the Zozi forward finished it for 1-0.

We began to believe. But recent games have seen us go up against the likes of Kuraita and the Cordian Isles and, with all due respect, neither are Cassadaigua. The Fillies imposed their will on us twice later on in that first half, scoring through Jenna Frontiera’s gorgeous turn-and-finish on the edge of the six yard box. Frontiera came close to making it two-nothing shortly before half-time, collecting a pass from Stanton behind Obadele Volonte, but the striker found the flailing ankle of Constance Creighton with her finish and had to watch as the ball spun agonisingly wide of the post.

The game was looking like it was going to head into half-time level at one goal apiece, but Unai Cappadonna had something to say about that, bursting into the corner of the box and seemingly intentionally (read: intentionally) putting a leg between those of Madison Rutland as he entered the area. To the referee, it looked like the defender had taken out his standing leg as he went into the box. An old trick, of course, but one the referee fell for, and Archer Flat’s penalty (Jesus, the guy takes scary penalties. He’s like a really ugly cannon) took the winds well out of Cassadaigua’s sails heading into half-time.

By midway through the second half, Cassadaigua were knocking on the door. Julho had been taken off on sixty minutes, but with a centre-half coming on in the form of Oran Anders as RJ changed us to a 5-5-0. Yes, it’s apparently possible to go *more* defensive than 4-6-0. By the 75th minute we’re massively on the ropes. Dagan number three Summer Speers is starting to get forward down the left to put us under the cosh even more. And so on I come, in place of Unai Cappadonna, who’s run himself into the ground. My task: Stay up front. Give us an outlet.

By the time I get onto the field, Brandao has taken the pressure off by getting upfield and forcing a corner, on for which I come, get under a failed clearance and smash the ball home for 3-1.

Cassadaigua don’t look quite the force they were as we get back underway. I set about pressing as the recycle the ball back through the defence and it causes Caitlyn Kaleta to play a pass well beyond Sherwin and out of play for a throw-in. You look at the papers and you see how tough these last few weeks and months must have been to be a Cassadagan, and here they are, almost at the end of one of the longest Cups of Harmony in history, 3-1 down, looking for a last reserve of energy or resilience. It might not be there.

Fortunately for us, reserves of resilience and energy are pretty much the only thing we always have. We get the ball forward again, have a go at keeping possession, and suddenly I find myself receiving the ball on the edge of the area, back to goal, players all around me. The ball I find might not have been the best one, but it’s good enough. Reuben Corkhill slides in to meet my diagonal pass and scoops it into the near corner beyond Kerr. And that’s that.

—

They say he walks with a cane now, his knees having gotten fed up of his keeping active well into his seventies. Either way, he doesn’t have it with him right now, and he doesn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the half-and-half scarf he’s been given, but he holds the end of it all the same, making sure he gets the blue and yellow end. He’s posed for dozens of silly photos like this throughout his life and certainly never learned to enjoy any of them. These days it seems he’s even totally over the idea of wearing a suit. He’s got a loose fitting checkered shirt on and a pair of slacks and that’s absolutely fine with him. Guy’s seventy-something and a legend, what are you going to do? Tell him off? I mean it's Lee Sharp.

Holding the other, redder end of the half-and-half scarf is his son. Same height, hair a little thicker and darker, a little unkempt these days, what with a 24/7 schedule over the last month it’s been all hands on deck. He wears a claret and green tracksuit top and doesn’t seem to mind that this puts him at odds with either his dad or his son, who is standing between the two of them.

Taller, more tanned and in better shape than either father or grandfather had ever been, Alex Sharp has a well-trained instagram-ready smile on for the camera, which snaps away. He’s between the blue and the claret halves of the scarf, sure, but there’s no doubt which side he wants to win tomorrow evening. Sure, he plays his football in Audioslavia, born there, even, but he’s in the squad for Eura and very much expecting to get onto the pitch for the final, if not from the start.

When it comes to international football, neither of these men ever, or have ever, got the accolades they deserved. Lee Sharp played in the final of World Cup 60 for Eura and managed Audioslavia in the World Cup 69 final. Both games lost agonisingly to The Holy Empire. In between these two gallant defeats, Audioslavia and Eura won World Cups 63, 64 and 66, though only one of the people present in the room - Skorji Oslograd is sat on a sofa in the corner being unusually quiet, watching the photo session with a coffee and a raised eyebrow - had anything to do with that.

Dean Sharp, Lee’s son, won a slew of bronze medals in World Cups and Copa Rushmoris alike playing for Eura, before finding success at club level under Lee at 1830 Cathair, who he went on to coach before his job under RJ Styrn at the Audioslavian national team. Alex, Dean’s son, turned out for the likes of Royal Rumiatzi and Guerrilla Cathair on loan before becoming a regular in the 1830 first team where he's formed an alarmingly strong strike partnership with Felixe Vetiver and Thea Squarciafichi.

Aside from various other family members, there’s one person the three Sharps have in common, and she comes walking into the room to the sound of the clap of expensive cameras and a slightly louder hurdle-durdle-durdle of the other figures in the hall.

“Hiya RJ” says the eagle-eyed Alex as RJ Styrn approaches, causing Dean to nod in her direction and Lee to squint at the slightly blurred image walking towards him. RJ doesn’t seem to know who to go to first.

Back in cycle 69, Styrn had been the Audioslavian national team’s prize possession up front. A natural finisher with an athleticism that, while not quite on par with the boys, was enough to make her a handful for any opposing team. First of Cazadores Cathair, then 1830 Cathair, followed by Red Star Severny in Polaria, she was the focal point of Lee Sharp’s attack in that failed bid to win the World Cup 69 final, and she never quite reached the same peak after that, retiring from international football with 'just' seventy caps to her name. It should have been so much more. It's to Lee that she goes first, giving the old man the closest she could get to a bearhug, which wasn’t that close.

Alex Sharp, whom she’d managed at Guerrilla Cathair for a year, gets another hug and a ruffle of the hair, which Alex quickly puts right. Dean Sharp, her assistant manager at the Audioslavia national team, gets a squeeze on the shoulder and an elbow in the ribs. At the photographer's behest, she stands next to Dean.

“Also Mr. Oslograd, if you’re ready, we’re ready for the full shot” says the photographer. From the sofa, Skorji puts his coffee down and stands up, buttoning his suit jacket as he does so.
“He gets ‘Mr Oslograd’ and I get ‘RJ’, that’s how it is, is it?” says RJ, with a raised eyebrow towards the camera. She shakes Skorji’s hand as he walks by her and takes up a position to Lee Sharp’s right.

"Everyone say 'institutional sexism' says Dean as the photographer readies the shot. The five of them beam smiles as beamingly as they can, which for Alex is very beamingly and for the others… less so.

“Captains are here too” says a man behind the photographer. A door at the back of the hall opens. In walk two players who wear the captain’s armband for club and country. Jack Menard, the tall, slim Euran defender and Archer Flat, the burly, balding red-headed Audioslavian centre-half with no eyebrows and an ugly scar down one side of his face. Jack is the captain of 1830 Cathair. Archer of Shamrock Cathair. They were already arguing. By which I of course mean Archer was talking and Jack was trying to figure out Archer’s point in the midst of his ridiculous accent.

“Ken you’re getting pasted the morrow like it’s tea-time at glass bridge like” says Archer. Jack smiles.
“We’ll see” says Jack, understanding some of those words.
“Aye but” replies Archer.

Across the floor, in front of the camera, RJ keeps her smile fixed but keeps an eye on proceedings nervously. Without breaking her smile, she says a toothy ‘oh shit’ which Dean hears. Dean grins and turns to his son.
“Your mate’s here” he says.
Archer looks up, sees Alex Sharp, and says three unrepeatable words before ending with a ‘doing here?’
“Nice to see you too, Archer” says Alex. To Archer’s credit, his response also starts with ‘nice to see you’, it’s just the ending that leaves something to be desired with regards to content, which is simultaneously homophobic and xenophobic. Archer Flat and Alex Sharp are, as the names suggest, natural enemies. Their rivalry goes back to sub-age football in Audioslavia, with already-famous striker Alex Sharp going toe-to-toe with the scruffy young Archer Flat. While Alex had a teenage loan spell at high-flying Astograthians Royal Rumiatzi, Archer found himself at Brenecian clod-hoppers Randwick Town. When they came back, they’d brought with them a little of ethos of each of the clubs they were loaned to, with the result that they were even more set in their habits than they had been previously. These days, both are first choice for their respective teams, 1830 Cathair - for whom three Euran internationals play - and Shamrock Cathair, which provides three players in the Audioslavia squad. These days, due to the difference in ageing between the two nations, Alex is young and fit at 22, while Archer is pushing thirty.

You might say they exemplify the differences between the two nations they represent. One younger, stronger, better looking, the other small and ugly yet probably the one you’d pick in a fight.

“Last set of photos” says the photographer. “We’ve got one of the younger Euran lads” he says, referencing Alex. “How about young Audioslavian?”
He gestures to me. I stand up and head towards the huddle.
“See that, Alex” says Archer. “That’s a striker”
“I thought Audioslavia didn’t need strikers” retorts Alex
“You were born in Audioslavia, weren’t you?” says Archer. A rhetorical question. “It’s you we didn’t need”
“Now now boys” says RJ, “let’s try and take one family photo without you two squabbling. C’mere Hello” she says to me.

The next morning, every newspaper in Audioslavia, and likely most in Eura, will have the same picture on or near its back page. Left to right: Jack Menard, Skorji Oslograd, Lee Sharp, Alex Sharp, Dean Sharp, RJ Styrn, Archer Flat, Helios Roy. Hopefully it won’t be under the tag-line ‘one of these things is not like the others’

[Tumbra]

3PPO: Cutoff

Cassadaigua 4–2 Mertagne

[Eura]

CUP OF HARMONY 83 – SEMI-FINALS
Mertagne 2-3 Eura
Scorers:
Robson 32, Singh 55, Malone 61
Lineup:
1. E Palmer
4. J Menard
15. K Sherwood
5. T Green
24. J Gates
16. O Vincent (sub Robshaw 35)
11. B Malone
7. M Woakes (sub Erskine 65)
12. A Woodman
14. S Singh (sub Sharp 81)
9. S Robson

---

‘Come!’
Elizabeth and the rest of the “Cooper River dozen” entered a dimly lit room. It was in this prefabricated hut, somewhere in Terramidia, that they would receive their debriefing.
‘So’, Elizabeth started, ‘you’re Overlord?’
‘Yes’ responded the old man, the Ticker as he was known by others, ‘do take your seats, please.’ The group were exhausted after their lengthy mission, and duly sat down on the cheap camping stools provided. ‘The conditions are a little basic here I’m afraid. You’ll be on a first class flight home soon enough anyway, just think about that!’
‘What’s the deal then?’ Elizabeth had cut straight to the point – the Ticker liked that.
‘The “deal” is that you have all done an immense service to your country-‘
‘And the people of the Cooper River region!’ piped up one of the group optimistically.
‘-them too, yes. As I was saying, you have done us a service. Now it is time for you to make commitments to ensure that service isn’t sullied.’

Elizabeth and her colleagues with military backgrounds knew what this meant, and nodded without a question. But the others looked perplexed.
‘What do you mean by commitments? Are we going back out there?’
‘No, nothing like that. I just need you to sign these.’ He pointed to a thin stack of papers on the table separating them. ‘For reasons of national security, you will all sign these, and go on your merry way, supported by the taxpayer for your good deeds of course.’
Members of the group reached over and picked up their forms, one by one. Elizabeth and her soldier buddies read through at a canter and then signed without saying a word.
How reliable thought the Ticker as they directed a knowing look his way.
‘I don’t get it. What is this?’
The civilians were another matter.
‘We can’t sign this!’ protested one, ‘I’ve done so much research! How am I supposed to get published?’
‘Good question! The answer is that you don’t.’ The Ticker rose from his chair and steadied himself with his walking stick, creeping over to the disillusioned professor and analyst who had raised objections.

‘Let’s not bother ourselves with the holy martyr routine. You knew this was a government enterprise in a contentious area. You went in secret. We took your phones off you. You avoided Cassadaigua’s forces and border control and were handed guns for your self-defence. Did you fail to notice all of this, or have you forgotten?’
The analyst went silent, but the professor was having none of it. ‘This is bullshit. We’re not spies. We were doing good work, valuable work. Why the hell do you want to keep it quiet? Why should we keep quiet?’
’45 years.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘That’s the time you’ll do, with a sympathetic judge, if you knowingly publicise information about a covert operation of the Euran security services. If you walk out of here without signing this, we’ll assume that is what you are going to do – and you will suffer the consequences.’ The Ticker took an ornate looking fountain pen from his pocket and handed it to the professor. ‘Signing this gives us assurance that you won’t do anything silly. Which you’re not going to, are you?’
The Ticker’s prey let out a subdued sigh under his breath, took the pen and signed the papers. ‘Good. Enjoy your flight – and don’t be too down. If anyone found out you had been working for us, all your academic buddies would disown you anyway.’

---

‘Additionally, I acknowledge that these people have sustained a tremendous inconvenience…’
‘Inconvenience?! Who the fuck do these people think they are?’ Foreign Secretary Chadwick, to roars of laughter from her advisors, threw her sandwich at the television. The sauce filling splashed over the screen, turning Brianna of Cassdaigua’s face into a murky red blob. ‘Fucking hell, inconvenience, yeah, that’s one way to describe shipping people out of their homeland at gunpoint because some old fart wanted more “subjects”.’
‘Why do people think they can even get away with this boss?’
‘Entitlement. These royalists have it in their blood, running to every part of them. If they want something they assume it is their God-given right to take it. Quite literally in some cases.’
As Chadwick and her staff listened to the rest of the live broadcast from Cassadaigua and chatted among themselves, a figure emerged in the doorway, making themselves visible only to Chadwick who was nearest the door. She noted their presence immediately.

‘Excuse me all, I’m going to have to pop out. I’ll be back in a bit.’ The figure backed away from the door, and Chadwick followed. A game of subtle cat and mouse followed until they found a meeting room, shut the door behind them and began to speak in whispered tones.
‘Any word from the bastard?’
‘Yes. The assets have received their papers and signed them. All of them.’
‘Good. We don’t want any shit from them later if plans change.’ The figure passed Chadwick a tablet computer with a slideshow of images pre-loaded. ‘This is the latest we’ve got from EURAERO. Confirmation that the Dagans are upping their deployments.’
‘Did you watch what we just watched? They-‘
‘-suggested they’re going to try and lock up the new frontier, yes. That much is obvious from the signal’s intelligence Phalanx have been feeding us. Shall I convene a meeting with the Prime Minister?’
‘Yes, please do.’

The figure turned to leave, only to be pulled back by Chadwick grabbing their arm. ‘Actually, no. Let’s keep him clear of this one. On the political front I’m going to get my press team to issue a statement condemning the latest Dagan moves as manipulative and inadequate. I’ll talk that through with him. But Phalanx are in my court, not his. These locals…what are they called again?’
‘The River Republic, ma’am.’
‘I can only assume they’re going to escalate their campaign from here on out, and they will take advantage of the Dagans trying to lure back in those they kicked out to smuggle their own combatants back in. Let’s make sure they get whatever advice and help they need to do that. Keep training people and if necessary tell Phalanx they can fly their missions over the river, just don’t expect us to help them if anything goes wrong. And…’ She paused to think for a moment, then made her decision. She was going to take a risk. ‘…give Phalanx the go ahead to start training them with MANPADs and some guided missiles. Old Sameban shit should be adequate.’
‘Are you sure we can trust these people with weapons like that?’
‘What’s the worst that can happen if we do? They are already receiving all sorts of firepower. You forget I studied this kind of warfare in another time. Eventually the Dagans will send in the helicopters and the tanks when they get frustrated, and when they do, the Cooperites need to be ready to shoot back.’

---

Holdenberg Cricket Club’s Steel Field is usually sold out for domestic red ball cricket. Holdenberg, home of Euran cricketing heroes like Tristan Lewis and Tom Grant, was beaten out only by football for a place in the sporting hearts of its people. Today though, the stadium was barely half full to watch their team establish a hefty lead over Harther on a flat track.
It was the day of the Cup of Harmony final and Eura were aiming to finally win the World Cup’s sister tournament after two previous failures against Darmen and Mriin. Worryingly, their opponent was more illustrious than either of those teams; the mighty Audioslavia stood in Eura’s way, having got the better of Eura in recent fixtures after previously struggling against the gold and blue.
Even so, billions of Eurans were at home glued to their TV screens rather than worrying about anything else. A glimpse of silverware was worth the emotional ups and downs and setting aside of any other earthly concerns. The Sharp family drama, RJ Styrn and Skorji Oslograd’s redemption arcs and Eura’s emotional semi-final victory over Mertagne made it all the more attractive an event.

Taken together, the allure of the Cup of Harmony final guaranteed Steel Field would be half empty today. And that made Steel Field a great place for a low-key meeting, between two people who didn’t want to be seen together.
‘Caitlin.’
‘Paige.’
Caitlin Rowe and Paige Burns were, respectively, the Euran government’s Minister for Anaian Affairs and the head of Eura’s secretive Office of State Intelligence. And while the current Euran regime was busy with an almost-proxy war and a potential coup attempt against an allied government in Rushmore, and the rumblings of an autocratic take over in Esportiva’s Brenecia, the Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary were sending off different key figures in the Euran machine to push other agendas. One key figure was responsible for getting the ball rolling on expanding the Common Rushmori Community. Another was working behind the scenes to fast track a game-changing defence overhaul. These two, together, had an altogether different task.

Since the Euran Oceania Territories had voted to join Anaia, it had been in limbo. Delayed elections and petty arguments in the civic sphere had left the Territories ambling towards an uncertain future. It needed a role and, just as importantly, Eura itself needed the Territories to have a role.
‘I have something for you.’ Burns said this and then sat there unmoved, leaving Caitlin a little confused.
‘Where? Is it in your bag?’
‘Check your email. The personal one.’
Caitlin checked her phone. ‘There’s nothing here.’
‘The other personal one. Where you exchange love letters with your boy toy.’ Paige couldn’t help but smirk as Caitlin went red.
‘…that is personal correspondence of a member of the government, and its totally inappropriate for you to-‘
‘Yeah, yeah, you’re not the only one whose secrets I know. Just read it and tell me what you think.’
Reluctantly, Caitlin stowed her complaint and read through Paige’s “something”, while the spy chief politely applauded as one of Holdenberg’s openers cracked a cover drive for four.

‘This is…its actually a bit brilliant.’
‘Oh yes, I know it is. Credit where its due, my people know how to think outside of the box. Obviously, the detail will need some working out, but in principle its fool-proof.’
‘Its funny, this is the kind of thing I should be coming up with. I’m the politician. With, you know, policies and all that. You’re supposed to be catching bad guys! Or good guys without a Euran flag patch. Whatever, you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, but there are elements of it that only my organisation could possibly dream of. Don’t beat yourself up for not getting there without me.’ The proposal was quite sensational. Caitlin was stunned.
The plan was called Operation Broker. Once the Territories completed their upcoming inaugural elections, the Euran government would work with them to announce a new initiative – “The Conduit” was its working title – that would physically and personally bring together the leaders of Anaia…with the leaders of Atlantian Oceania.

‘A great schism salved with Euran glue’ Caitlin said with a beaming smile on her face. ‘I love it. We’d build a headquarters-‘
‘In Magnaeus, an Atlantian-leaning city.’
‘-yes! Run by the Expat’s new government?’
‘Day-to-day yes but foreign policy is a reserved matter for Bastion. We’ll be calling the shots.’
‘Great. And it can facilitate trade agreements, diplomacy, neutral ground for difficult conversations, cultural handover…’
‘Precisely. Putting the Territories at the centre of a trans-regional hub of any partnerships you could conceivably think of. And it would give us an in too.’
‘Fantastic! This is…well, Paige, this is just excellent. And…’ Caitlin trailed off as she reached the final paragraph of the proposal. Her eyebrow rose. ‘…what’s this? About “monitoring opportunities?” I don’t follow.’

‘A bone to throw for me and my colleagues, I think we’ve earned it and I know the Foreign Secretary will be keen with some of the rough and tumble that this country has been involved in.’
‘You’re talking about using a peace project being used to…well…’
‘Pry on other countries business and exploit the information we gain ruthlessly?’
‘…yes.’
‘A small price to pay for international friendship and peace, is it not? No-one will even know.’
Paige abruptly rose to her feet. ‘I’ve got another place to be. Say hi to Ryan for me. And be careful, I’m pretty sure your husband will know it’s the personal trainer sooner or later.’
‘What-‘
‘Ta-ta for now!’
Leaving Caitlin behind in shock, Paige went away with a spring in her step. The Ticker might have been getting old but his spiritual successor was just getting started.

[Mertagne]

Cup of Harmony 83 Final

Audioslavia 1–0 Eura

Congratulations to both finalists for making it as far as they did! On behalf of Tumbra and myself, I'd like to thank you all for taking part in this, the 83rd Cup of Harmony - we've had a blast hosting the tournament.

[Audioslavia]

I haven't been a pro for long, sure, but this is the hardest game I've ever played. Every single one of the 22 men (and women) on the pitch is up for it. Eura haven't won a major tournament since the Copa Rushmori a handful of cycles ago, and are playing like a team who are sick of the sight of bronze and silver. For us, this is the biggest international game of all of our lives. I'm chuffed to be playing. I'm chuffed to have started the game, but there's been no chances. Every time we get forward, blue shirts are everywhere. Jack Menard is playing how he usually does for 1830 Cathair. IE annoyingly. He's always talking to Green and Sherwood and making sure there are no gaps whatsoever between them, no angles to exploit. The one time i felt I got a shoulder past him running onto a through ball he leaned on me, grabbed a handful of my shirt but just for a split second, and ended up barrelling through me as he retrieved the ball. Ref just told me to get up. Jack doesn't have a reputation for being tough if only because of the league he plays in, but there's nobody stronger.

The game's in the balance, but it's Eura who have had the better chances. Back in the first half, Stewart Robson got in behind from a cross and lunged at a header that flashed wide of Creighton's near post. In the second half, Bobby Malone's run through the centre of our defence was found my a dinked ball over the top from Robshaw, and as Malone controlled it and got it onto his right foot you had that sinking sensation that this was going to be it, but his shot cannoned off of Creighton's feet as he rushed out and Flat tonked the rebound out of the stadium for a corner.

And now here comes Christine Atkinson chasing after an over-hit ball, bringing it under control and playing it back to Lucy Almwood, the left-back, who pings it in first time. Her cross, too, is overhit, and Stewart Robson has to turn to chase it. He meets the ball at the same time as he meets Archer Flat, who's gunning for the same ball. Robson's intention is to get it under control, Flat's intentions are known only to himself. The defender barrels into Robson and they both go to ground awkardly, as if in slow-motion. It's a free-kick right on the edge of the area, says the referee. Archer gets up and waggles his index finger at the ref, as do a number of other Audioslavians as we execute our 'he can't send us *all* off' routine, but Robson isn't getting up. He cringes at his ankle, shakes his head and then clicks his fingers in the general direction of Eura's physio like an entitled customer asking for a waiter. It's the sort of injury where you know it's not bad, but you know you won't be kicking a ball again today without putting yourself at actual risk. If this were a World Cup final he'd run on it until the adrenaline numbed it and he'd deal with the consequences to his career later, but going off now he'll be fine come next week.

Alex Sharp gets warmed up.

By the time he gets on the pitch he makes a bee-line for where Archer's standing, as if it were him marking Archer for an Audioslavian dead ball. Words are exchanged, a shove in the chest from Archer, a Sharp elbow resting gently, but definitely, on Archer's shoulder. The free-kick comes in short towards the edge of the area. Robshaw aims to shoot but, at the last moment, plays it diagonally in behind. Atkinson is there, a square ball finds Alex Sharp, goal-side of Archer Flat, for his first touch of the game.

The finish is creative. On his right foot, everyone expects him to strike across the ball to the keeper's right, but with a last-minute shimmy of the hips he instead seems to strike with his studs on top of the ball, the other direction, leaving Creighton flailing away from the ball's trajectory,. The ball rolls slowly but firmly towards the foot of the inside post and rolls along the goal-line in front of the goal. Sharp has already sensed that he needs to follow up, but centre-half Obadele Volonte's reactions were quicker, and the Directus defender slides in to sweep the ball off the line and out for a throw-in.

And that may have been Eura's chance.

Before I know it the ball's been worked up to the Euran end, and I'm constantly called upon to help build an attack, dropping back to play the ball out wide, play little one-twos in midfield, bomb up to the shoulder of the defenders and then cut back again as attacks break down and the ball gets recycled back through our defence. We're playing calmly, but that's not to our strengths, and the way this match has gone something special, or at least weird, has to happen for us to get in for a goal.

Unai Cappadonna goes to break past Robshaw, but this isn't Robshaw's first rodeo. The midfielder digs the ball out of Cappadonna's feet and sprints after the loose ball. Volonte, god love him, is there first again and he pings the ball up high to nobody in particular, but right on the edge of the Euran area. Kevin Sherwood is there to head the ball away. It lands to Stelea, who collects it on his chest and, slightly off-balance, hits a volleyed pass that doesn't work at all. The ball rebounds off a Euran ankle and stands up in the air for a second.

And god knows what Ana Mason is thinking.

She meets the ball at a jog, heading towards her own goal, but the ball isn't falling as quickly as she'd expected and, in one of those moments where you think '...yeah this'll probably be fine, she leaps into the air to side-foot a volleyed backpass towards her own keeper.

Jack Menard knows what's up before I do, but for the second time in the game, and perhaps my life, I've got half a yard on him. The ball drops over both of our heads, on or around the penalty spot, and I'm already picturing myself latching onto it and scoring when I see Elliot Palmer bursting off his line to clear. It's a backpass, so Elliot knows that he can't really use his hands, so Elliot does the next best thing. Just boot it as hard as you can.

He's going to boot it as hard as he can. I continue my run. I can't get to the ball first, but I wonder if I can blo

---

Looking back at the footage, I don't remember getting up. I don't remember everyone crowding round me. I don't remember the rest of the game despite playing another ten minutes. I don't remember giving Julho I smile and a perfect high-five as he came onto the pitch in my place. I don't remember sitting on the bench for a few minutes before being guided into the dressing room by the physio. I don't remember coming back out in a tracksuit after the final whistle. I don't remember RJ's tears or Obadele bringing TV cameras over to the travelling fans or Elliot Palmer asking if I was okay or Archer Flat pouring ice all over me. I don't remember taking the trophy from Antoine and jiggling it tamely before handing it off to Julho.

I remember waking up the next morning with a very, very painful face. I remember seeing the replay for the first time. Palmer's smashed the ball on the half-volley and it almost takes me with it. It hits me flush in the face, thankfully slightly to the right and avoiding my nose. The meaty kerthwack of leather on face sends the ball up high into the air. Palmer gets his footing and back-pedals, but there's something... spin? a gust of wind? that's sending the ball towards goal gradually, yet exponentially faster as it drops. Despairingly, he dives backwards in a desperate attempt to make the save, but he's off balance. The ball lands on his face halfway through his backwards dive and bounces harmlessly over the line.

I mean, they all count. The good ones, the fluky ones, and even the outrageous slapstick ones. They all count.

You can see the shiner forming towards the end of the recorded broadcast. The next morning it's a huge, ugly black and blue mess all around my right eye. A check-up reveals just severe bruising, no risk to my right eye or anything, I just have to deal with being decreasingly Archer Flat level ugly for a week.

As RJ told me the morning after, after first showing concern and then amusement at my condition, winning goals in finals very rarely go the way of hollywood. Given the chance to do it all again, but this time remember the event? Even if it meant we maybe didn't win? No idea. As a former player, Roddy Fraser would later tell me: There's no point trying to relive the past. You take what you're given and make the best out of it.

And in any case. Maybe now the Audioslavian media would finally, finally shut up about the Grand Slam.