NORTH VANGUAT SEA
HIM B75 prowled the seas at a depth of around 300 meters. It had received short instructions via secure SATCOM, during a brief sting at periscope depth, to move north from its typical patrol route and reinforce other imperial SSNs in the North Vanguat Sea. For now, it was to avoid detection and simply follow a new patrol route intended to offer protection for imperial shipping lanes in case of an all-out shooting war with FRCP. However, if orders were received, the boat should be fully prepared to engage FRCP military and commercial vessels.
Around the same time, and unbeknownst to the crew of HIM B75, a formal diplomatic message was sent to the government of the FRCP:
Back in Fedala, FRCP interference with imperial trade in the North Vanguat Sea had struck a chord. That kind of activity as a means of pushing certain countries' ships out of your own waters was one thing, but interfering with imperial trade in international waters was quite another. And if a government like FRCP's could get away with that sort of activity, what other state would try it? The Imperial Bureaucracy, led by an emperor who felt victorious in every war he had fought since his ascension, prepared itself for military operations.
It sent out another secure cable simultaneous to the one delivered to the FRCP.
MATAGALPA, NICARO, PREFECTURE OF FIRMADOR
Derego Frogeder's jet touched down in Matagalpa, the capital city of the Satrapy of Nicaro, early morning the day after his audience with the emperor. As prestigious as being recalled to Fedala for a private conversation with Him and His advisors was, they were draining affairs that left even the boldest man shook. The emperor was clear in his final instructions and demanded results. And, delivering the results He expected was never a straightforward thing, especially in Nicaro.
The country had changed a lot since the capital's namesake treaty, which formally integrated Nicaro into the imperial federation of the Golden Throne. Cities like Matagalpa, Sandino, and even Managua in the far south, had been transformed and were still in that process. They were all being reformed in the imperial image, with a broad central boulevard decorated with triumphal arches, great fountains topped by statues and scenes made of marble and bronze, and monumental buildings that were a mix of baroque and modern styles. Even the residential buildings behind them were beginning to change, as façades were updated — sometimes on the imperial dime — to keep pace with the beautification of the core urban areas. It was all part of the investment the Imperial Bureaucracy made in its subjects, an investment made to symbolize the empire's commitment to justice, prosperity, and peace. Although for the majority of Nicaroans this wealth had yet to trickle down, it was undeniable that the country's civil war had ended, most of the militias had been disarmed, and that peace from armed violence had descended beneath the curtain of imperial oversight.
All the same, in many ways it was the same country, made up of the same people. Despite the 20 million veteran settlers now streaming into the satrapy, Nicaro never suffered the same depopulation that many of the eastern territories did, and so the veterans would remain in the minority for some time. Walking down any given street, you were more likely to hear Nicaroan — a dialect of Zarbian — rather than Díenstadi, the vast majority of food shops still catered to local tastes, and if you asked the average person where they were from they'd still name their city or their prefecture. Aside from the superstructure, the imperial identity had not yet set in here. Not to mention, all of the satrapy's civil administration posts were filled by Nicaroans. In other words, change in this country was still done on Nicaroan terms, even if they had their arm twisted by the imperial eagle.
Despite Derego's forewarnings, the Imperial Bureaucracy had learned of Nicaro's spirit of independence the hard way during its broad anti-corruption campaign in the satrapy. Many, if not most, of the arrested politicians were popular among their constituents, largely because they were known for distributing their illicitly gained wealth back to the people. This drove many of the targeted people underground, especially to the insurgency still raging around Managua. Tens of thousands of their able-bodied supporters and their families went with them, bolstering the guerrilla factions still resisting the garrisoning of the country. And the Macabéan-approved politicians that replaced their predecessors were neither all honest nor well-liked, so improvements to the satrapy's administration had been marginal at best. Of course, the Imperial Bureaucracy's response was to double down. Enough shake-ups, so the theory went, and eventually all the pieces would land in the right place.
Derego knew almost all the important players in Nicaro, from the satrapical to the city levels. It was a benefit of having served as Prefect of Firmador, the northern prefecture of the satrapy. Natural, then, his recent promotion to jogornos. As jogornos, he was the head of the entire Macabéan civil administrative presence here, putatively a diplomatic mission. But, as head diplomat that gave him direct access to the satrap. And he who controlled the satrap, controlled the country.
Satrap Gustavo Sabaté was waiting for him on the tarmac. Derego had requested his presence before departing from Fedala. As the jogornos walked down the staircase he handed his coat to an aid. Gustavo stepped up toward him and the two clasped hands. "Your Excellency," said Gustavo.
"Satrap Sabaté, good to see you," replied Derego.
"Likewise," said Gustavo. "How is Fedala this time of the year?"
Gustavo had not yet had an audience with His Imperial Majesty and so hadn't traveled to the imperial capital, Derego realized. He hadn't advocated for such an audience to the emperor, either. That would have to be rectified the next time the jogornos was recalled. Gustavo had proven to be a loyal, trusted ally in Nicaro so far, not complaining beyond the reasonable toward any of the imperial policies that were reshaping his nation. Of course, satraps were directly appointed by the emperor and could be replaced at any moment, so a degree of acquiescence and subservience was expected.
"The spring winds still blow, but the days are getting longer and hotter. It will be a matter of time before the capital gets scorched beneath the sun." He wiped a few droplets of sweat that had begun to form on his forehead. "Of course, I'll always prefer that to the humidity here. Come, let's get inside where there's air conditioning. I trust you made time for me today."
The satrap nodded and smiled. "Of course, jogornos."
Both of them entered the same sports utility vehicle, with a driver and co-pilot in the front seats. Otherwise, they were alone. Once inside, the tone of their conversation changed. The satrap asked, "How did it go?"
"Like any audience with the emperor goes," replied the jogornos. "You sit there nerve-wracked, answer a series of questions, and then get told what you do. If you're lucky, you get to give your opinion on those instructions. If you have a solid reservation, He might listen. Otherwise, it's best to keep your mouth shut. This time, I opted for the latter. It seems He's pretty deadset on leveraging this kerfuffle over the Ice States to the empire's advantage."
"Hm, how so?" wondered Gustavo.
Derego opened a small ice chest on the back-end of the center console, revealing two small glasses and a bottle of liquor. He handed one glass to his counterpart and filled it, then filled his own. Glass in hand, he answered, "The blockade is isolating the Ice States diplomatically and commercially. While there are some doubts about doing business with a slaver state, the emperor and his advisors seem sure that, as the pressure mounts, TIS will agree to certain terms in exchange for additional support from the Golden Throne. Which terms? They'd like for me to negotiate an at least superficially end to their practice of slavery and some other economic terms. The empire will then come out the hero, will have gained a local ally, and will prove to the world once again that its way of doing business produces results."
"And for Nicaro?" asked the Nicaroan. He took a sip from his own glass, then added, "You know, with this blockade, I'm worried of unwanted attention on us again. Peace has been good to us. At least, in the north."
The jogornos took another drink. "If all goes as intended, Nicaro will benefit greatly. Assuming TIS' representatives are open-minded to cooperation, I will be offering an increase in overland trade between Nicaro and TIS as a means of skirting the blockade. TIS' imports will need to be carried by neutral ships and brought to Nicaroan docks, probably Quitiruzú. And, if they accept our recommendations, then that trade volume is only set to grow. Nicaroans stand to benefit directly, especially in the south."
"Quitiruzú?" blurted the satrap. "Quitiruzú is little more than a fishing town."
"Exactly, Gustavo," replied Derego. "The Kríerlord Kuncil has approved a budget for the expansion of Quitiruzú's wharf facilities. They will be turned into a proper commercial port, with a military port to go alongside it. Those facilities will need labor, which will be hired from among the locals. In a few years, Quitiruzú will be a bustling port city with strategic importance. It is a great investment for the Nicaroans, if you ask me."
Gustavo did not seem entirely suaded. "The town is in the middle of rebel-dominated territory!"
Derego shrugged. He then realized that he had emptied his glass, so he poured himself another dram of whisky and took another sip. He refilled the satrap's glass, as well. "Obviously, the Ejermacht will have to shift some of its assets in Komsektor VI to increase security around Quitiruzú. Also partly why a military port will be built, although that takes secondary priority over the commercial port and probably has as much to do with the expansion of the Kríermada in the area."
"This plan will have to be approved by the Nicaroan legislature," said the satrap, who finished the contents of his glass in one long swig.
The jogornos moved to refill it as soon as Gustavo had put it back on the small table atop the rear end of the center console. "That's why I'm telling you first," he answered. "His Imperial Majesty trusts that you will take care of making sure the proposal passes."
"Of course he does," said the satrap, who took another long swig. When he gulped it down, he added, "I trust that your office will send a finished copy of the proposed bill when you're ready for me to present it?"
Derego nodded. "Correct. All the details will be in there. Permissions to negotiate with local authorities over land requisitioning, compensations, et cetera. Just have your people thoroughly edit the language. It's important that it sounds like it's coming from you as much as from the Imperial Bureaucracy. His Imperial Majesty is excited about your backing and wants that support to be authentic."
"Yes, authentic," was all Gustavo said.
The jogornos arched an eyebrow, but let the comment go. He pointed to their glasses. "Another round?"
"One more," answered the satrap. "We're almost at your residence."
They drank the rest of the drive without further comment on Derego's audience with the emperor. Some things were said about local happenings and a little was spoken about their personal lives, but the conversation was done for the most part. The jogornos' residence was in the same walled compound as the embassy. It was heavily protected but was dressed up to look opulent. An AI-guided machinegun post tracked them as they approached the rear-entrance to the compound, but immediately broke off as soon as it read the vehicle's plates. They were greeted by a human guard at the gate and waved through. Once inside, they proceeded to the residence's main study, where photos and a video of a prearranged conversation were taken for PR purposes. After, they shook hands and smiled at the camera for some additional photographs. They'd be released to the press and published the next day. The contents of their conversation would be kept secret, of course. For the public, a statement regarding discussions on Nicaro's bright future would be released with the photos and the video. A little bit of smoke and a few mirrors went a long way.
Same day...
FEDORÍA, NICARO, PREFECTURE OF NICARO
"Yea, I saw the orders yesterday, Your Excellency," said Admiránt Petre Kassinger. "We're already working on execution."
He put the phone down and sighed. He had hoped to soak up the sun on the beach outside of the city, now with the armistice between the Reich and the empire in full force. This was a reminder that he'd probably never get to enjoy a true day of leisure until he retired. The Golden Throne was always involved in something. This time, the confrontation was with the Federal Republic of Czaslyudian Peoples. Their obstinacy is the pursuit of their seizure and search policy against imperial trade vessels — in international waters, at that! — had irked someone back at the capital, possibly the emperor Himself, and Fedala wanted to up the ante. Kríergrup 'Samarasta's' tour wasn't enough, apparently. Tit-for-tat demanded his new orders.
Kassinger, as commander of Kríergrup 'Nicaro,' was to oversee the enforcement of a new ban on all FRCP shipping in what the Imperial Bureaucracy called its "interior waters." This meant that commercial FRCP ships were to be excluded from all shipping lanes that passed through central Greater Díenstad, from as far north as Arcaenia to as far south as United Gordonopia. Kríergrup 'Nicaro' was responsible for the sector corresponding to the waters between itself, Kassaran, and the Timocratic Republic — essentially, almost to the very eastern limits of the North Vanguat Sea itself. To accomplish this, the admiral had already dispatched orders that same morning for three raid squadrons to deploy out from Fedoría — the locals still sometimes called it Chinadenga —, San Carlos, and Liberia. South of the Sea of Ordena, they would be able to count on a couple of squadrons dispatched by Kríergrup 'Targul Frumos.' Imperial warships were under strict orders to avoid outright sinking any commercial vessels belonging to the FRCP and, instead, physically impede them from sailing further into central Greater Díenstad and force them to turn around.
The admiral steeled himself and then called his wife, telling her to take the kids to the beach without him. He had work to do.
In three days' time, operations to clear the "interior waters" from all commercial ships belonging to the FRCP would commence. He hoped that the FRCP saw reason and backed down.
Days later...
MAGECASTLE, THE ICE STATES
Derego flew out to TIS two days after arriving at Matagalpa. He left with Hiram Jelelope, a Frommian who had just been promoted to the rank of jogornos within the diplomatic corps. Hiram was to be the head of the diplomatic mission to TIS, but Derego was instructed to go with him and lead the initial conversations due to this experience and knowledge of the region. Once a formal embassy was established in TIS, Hiram would take over and Derego could focus on the Nicaro-side of things. Their plane skirted around southern Nicaro, there was always the fear of a rebel MANPAD aiming for them, and then entered TIS airspace from the northeast. They flew directly to Magecastle, where all of TIS' foreign embassies were hosted. Derego and Hiram were told that they'd be meeting with representatives of TIS' emperor of significance. The discussions were to be high level and they were not to promise anything concrete without some sort of early concession in return.
"I suppose you'll take the lead this time?" asked Hiram, as they started their descent.
The other diplomat nodded. "Aye, that's the plan. At least for the first round of talks. I suspect you'll be handling the rest of them on your own."
Hiram looked down toward his lap. "This is my first major posting with this sort of responsibility," he said.
They each had a small glass with a few ounces of dark brown liquor in them. Derego took a sip. He said, "Peaty on the palette, with a nice spice on the finish. Good stuff. Imported from Paquat, New Empire. It's amazing the things we have access to these days. Whiskeys from New Empire, wine and cheeses from Guffingford, Indran hams... The list is almost infinite. Think about that. Almost everything we want is at our fingertips. And that entire network is managed by the imperial administration, including hundreds of people just like us. I guess my point is that you're in good company. Just remember that we are the Golden Throne and that most states would love to be on our good side. Don't be arrogant, just be assured that you are backed by a history of success, and you'll be fine." He patted the other man on the back.
"Thanks," muttered Hiram. He downed the rest of the liquor in the glass just as the flight attendant came over to ask them to clear the table and prepare for landing.
HIM B75 prowled the seas at a depth of around 300 meters. It had received short instructions via secure SATCOM, during a brief sting at periscope depth, to move north from its typical patrol route and reinforce other imperial SSNs in the North Vanguat Sea. For now, it was to avoid detection and simply follow a new patrol route intended to offer protection for imperial shipping lanes in case of an all-out shooting war with FRCP. However, if orders were received, the boat should be fully prepared to engage FRCP military and commercial vessels.
Around the same time, and unbeknownst to the crew of HIM B75, a formal diplomatic message was sent to the government of the FRCP:
From: Diplomatic Corps of the Golden Throne, Palace of Nepotas, Fedala
To: FRCP Department of Foreign Relations
Your hostile actions against imperial commercial shipping in international waters will not be tolerated. Cease all activity of this nature or face immediate hostilities with the Golden Throne.
Signed,
His Imperial Majesty Fedor I
Back in Fedala, FRCP interference with imperial trade in the North Vanguat Sea had struck a chord. That kind of activity as a means of pushing certain countries' ships out of your own waters was one thing, but interfering with imperial trade in international waters was quite another. And if a government like FRCP's could get away with that sort of activity, what other state would try it? The Imperial Bureaucracy, led by an emperor who felt victorious in every war he had fought since his ascension, prepared itself for military operations.
It sent out another secure cable simultaneous to the one delivered to the FRCP.
From: Diplomatic Corps of the Golden Throne, Palace of Nepotas, Fedala
To: Embassy of Eitoan, Fedala
FRCP's campaign against imperial shipping in the North Vanguat Sea has gone too far. The Golden Throne cannot send a message of ambivalence when it regards interference against its own trade in international waters. We will commence military hostilities upon the next interception action committed by FRCP ships. Intention will be to clear the North Vanguat Sea of all FRCP military and commercial ships.
We request an audience between representatives of Eitoan and Jogornos Antonio Filero, the head of the imperial diplomatic mission to Eitoan. Imperial embassy can host; we are open to alternative sites.
Signed,
His Imperial Majesty Fedor I
MATAGALPA, NICARO, PREFECTURE OF FIRMADOR
Derego Frogeder's jet touched down in Matagalpa, the capital city of the Satrapy of Nicaro, early morning the day after his audience with the emperor. As prestigious as being recalled to Fedala for a private conversation with Him and His advisors was, they were draining affairs that left even the boldest man shook. The emperor was clear in his final instructions and demanded results. And, delivering the results He expected was never a straightforward thing, especially in Nicaro.
The country had changed a lot since the capital's namesake treaty, which formally integrated Nicaro into the imperial federation of the Golden Throne. Cities like Matagalpa, Sandino, and even Managua in the far south, had been transformed and were still in that process. They were all being reformed in the imperial image, with a broad central boulevard decorated with triumphal arches, great fountains topped by statues and scenes made of marble and bronze, and monumental buildings that were a mix of baroque and modern styles. Even the residential buildings behind them were beginning to change, as façades were updated — sometimes on the imperial dime — to keep pace with the beautification of the core urban areas. It was all part of the investment the Imperial Bureaucracy made in its subjects, an investment made to symbolize the empire's commitment to justice, prosperity, and peace. Although for the majority of Nicaroans this wealth had yet to trickle down, it was undeniable that the country's civil war had ended, most of the militias had been disarmed, and that peace from armed violence had descended beneath the curtain of imperial oversight.
All the same, in many ways it was the same country, made up of the same people. Despite the 20 million veteran settlers now streaming into the satrapy, Nicaro never suffered the same depopulation that many of the eastern territories did, and so the veterans would remain in the minority for some time. Walking down any given street, you were more likely to hear Nicaroan — a dialect of Zarbian — rather than Díenstadi, the vast majority of food shops still catered to local tastes, and if you asked the average person where they were from they'd still name their city or their prefecture. Aside from the superstructure, the imperial identity had not yet set in here. Not to mention, all of the satrapy's civil administration posts were filled by Nicaroans. In other words, change in this country was still done on Nicaroan terms, even if they had their arm twisted by the imperial eagle.
Despite Derego's forewarnings, the Imperial Bureaucracy had learned of Nicaro's spirit of independence the hard way during its broad anti-corruption campaign in the satrapy. Many, if not most, of the arrested politicians were popular among their constituents, largely because they were known for distributing their illicitly gained wealth back to the people. This drove many of the targeted people underground, especially to the insurgency still raging around Managua. Tens of thousands of their able-bodied supporters and their families went with them, bolstering the guerrilla factions still resisting the garrisoning of the country. And the Macabéan-approved politicians that replaced their predecessors were neither all honest nor well-liked, so improvements to the satrapy's administration had been marginal at best. Of course, the Imperial Bureaucracy's response was to double down. Enough shake-ups, so the theory went, and eventually all the pieces would land in the right place.
Derego knew almost all the important players in Nicaro, from the satrapical to the city levels. It was a benefit of having served as Prefect of Firmador, the northern prefecture of the satrapy. Natural, then, his recent promotion to jogornos. As jogornos, he was the head of the entire Macabéan civil administrative presence here, putatively a diplomatic mission. But, as head diplomat that gave him direct access to the satrap. And he who controlled the satrap, controlled the country.
Satrap Gustavo Sabaté was waiting for him on the tarmac. Derego had requested his presence before departing from Fedala. As the jogornos walked down the staircase he handed his coat to an aid. Gustavo stepped up toward him and the two clasped hands. "Your Excellency," said Gustavo.
"Satrap Sabaté, good to see you," replied Derego.
"Likewise," said Gustavo. "How is Fedala this time of the year?"
Gustavo had not yet had an audience with His Imperial Majesty and so hadn't traveled to the imperial capital, Derego realized. He hadn't advocated for such an audience to the emperor, either. That would have to be rectified the next time the jogornos was recalled. Gustavo had proven to be a loyal, trusted ally in Nicaro so far, not complaining beyond the reasonable toward any of the imperial policies that were reshaping his nation. Of course, satraps were directly appointed by the emperor and could be replaced at any moment, so a degree of acquiescence and subservience was expected.
"The spring winds still blow, but the days are getting longer and hotter. It will be a matter of time before the capital gets scorched beneath the sun." He wiped a few droplets of sweat that had begun to form on his forehead. "Of course, I'll always prefer that to the humidity here. Come, let's get inside where there's air conditioning. I trust you made time for me today."
The satrap nodded and smiled. "Of course, jogornos."
Both of them entered the same sports utility vehicle, with a driver and co-pilot in the front seats. Otherwise, they were alone. Once inside, the tone of their conversation changed. The satrap asked, "How did it go?"
"Like any audience with the emperor goes," replied the jogornos. "You sit there nerve-wracked, answer a series of questions, and then get told what you do. If you're lucky, you get to give your opinion on those instructions. If you have a solid reservation, He might listen. Otherwise, it's best to keep your mouth shut. This time, I opted for the latter. It seems He's pretty deadset on leveraging this kerfuffle over the Ice States to the empire's advantage."
"Hm, how so?" wondered Gustavo.
Derego opened a small ice chest on the back-end of the center console, revealing two small glasses and a bottle of liquor. He handed one glass to his counterpart and filled it, then filled his own. Glass in hand, he answered, "The blockade is isolating the Ice States diplomatically and commercially. While there are some doubts about doing business with a slaver state, the emperor and his advisors seem sure that, as the pressure mounts, TIS will agree to certain terms in exchange for additional support from the Golden Throne. Which terms? They'd like for me to negotiate an at least superficially end to their practice of slavery and some other economic terms. The empire will then come out the hero, will have gained a local ally, and will prove to the world once again that its way of doing business produces results."
"And for Nicaro?" asked the Nicaroan. He took a sip from his own glass, then added, "You know, with this blockade, I'm worried of unwanted attention on us again. Peace has been good to us. At least, in the north."
The jogornos took another drink. "If all goes as intended, Nicaro will benefit greatly. Assuming TIS' representatives are open-minded to cooperation, I will be offering an increase in overland trade between Nicaro and TIS as a means of skirting the blockade. TIS' imports will need to be carried by neutral ships and brought to Nicaroan docks, probably Quitiruzú. And, if they accept our recommendations, then that trade volume is only set to grow. Nicaroans stand to benefit directly, especially in the south."
"Quitiruzú?" blurted the satrap. "Quitiruzú is little more than a fishing town."
"Exactly, Gustavo," replied Derego. "The Kríerlord Kuncil has approved a budget for the expansion of Quitiruzú's wharf facilities. They will be turned into a proper commercial port, with a military port to go alongside it. Those facilities will need labor, which will be hired from among the locals. In a few years, Quitiruzú will be a bustling port city with strategic importance. It is a great investment for the Nicaroans, if you ask me."
Gustavo did not seem entirely suaded. "The town is in the middle of rebel-dominated territory!"
Derego shrugged. He then realized that he had emptied his glass, so he poured himself another dram of whisky and took another sip. He refilled the satrap's glass, as well. "Obviously, the Ejermacht will have to shift some of its assets in Komsektor VI to increase security around Quitiruzú. Also partly why a military port will be built, although that takes secondary priority over the commercial port and probably has as much to do with the expansion of the Kríermada in the area."
"This plan will have to be approved by the Nicaroan legislature," said the satrap, who finished the contents of his glass in one long swig.
The jogornos moved to refill it as soon as Gustavo had put it back on the small table atop the rear end of the center console. "That's why I'm telling you first," he answered. "His Imperial Majesty trusts that you will take care of making sure the proposal passes."
"Of course he does," said the satrap, who took another long swig. When he gulped it down, he added, "I trust that your office will send a finished copy of the proposed bill when you're ready for me to present it?"
Derego nodded. "Correct. All the details will be in there. Permissions to negotiate with local authorities over land requisitioning, compensations, et cetera. Just have your people thoroughly edit the language. It's important that it sounds like it's coming from you as much as from the Imperial Bureaucracy. His Imperial Majesty is excited about your backing and wants that support to be authentic."
"Yes, authentic," was all Gustavo said.
The jogornos arched an eyebrow, but let the comment go. He pointed to their glasses. "Another round?"
"One more," answered the satrap. "We're almost at your residence."
They drank the rest of the drive without further comment on Derego's audience with the emperor. Some things were said about local happenings and a little was spoken about their personal lives, but the conversation was done for the most part. The jogornos' residence was in the same walled compound as the embassy. It was heavily protected but was dressed up to look opulent. An AI-guided machinegun post tracked them as they approached the rear-entrance to the compound, but immediately broke off as soon as it read the vehicle's plates. They were greeted by a human guard at the gate and waved through. Once inside, they proceeded to the residence's main study, where photos and a video of a prearranged conversation were taken for PR purposes. After, they shook hands and smiled at the camera for some additional photographs. They'd be released to the press and published the next day. The contents of their conversation would be kept secret, of course. For the public, a statement regarding discussions on Nicaro's bright future would be released with the photos and the video. A little bit of smoke and a few mirrors went a long way.
Same day...
FEDORÍA, NICARO, PREFECTURE OF NICARO
"Yea, I saw the orders yesterday, Your Excellency," said Admiránt Petre Kassinger. "We're already working on execution."
He put the phone down and sighed. He had hoped to soak up the sun on the beach outside of the city, now with the armistice between the Reich and the empire in full force. This was a reminder that he'd probably never get to enjoy a true day of leisure until he retired. The Golden Throne was always involved in something. This time, the confrontation was with the Federal Republic of Czaslyudian Peoples. Their obstinacy is the pursuit of their seizure and search policy against imperial trade vessels — in international waters, at that! — had irked someone back at the capital, possibly the emperor Himself, and Fedala wanted to up the ante. Kríergrup 'Samarasta's' tour wasn't enough, apparently. Tit-for-tat demanded his new orders.
Kassinger, as commander of Kríergrup 'Nicaro,' was to oversee the enforcement of a new ban on all FRCP shipping in what the Imperial Bureaucracy called its "interior waters." This meant that commercial FRCP ships were to be excluded from all shipping lanes that passed through central Greater Díenstad, from as far north as Arcaenia to as far south as United Gordonopia. Kríergrup 'Nicaro' was responsible for the sector corresponding to the waters between itself, Kassaran, and the Timocratic Republic — essentially, almost to the very eastern limits of the North Vanguat Sea itself. To accomplish this, the admiral had already dispatched orders that same morning for three raid squadrons to deploy out from Fedoría — the locals still sometimes called it Chinadenga —, San Carlos, and Liberia. South of the Sea of Ordena, they would be able to count on a couple of squadrons dispatched by Kríergrup 'Targul Frumos.' Imperial warships were under strict orders to avoid outright sinking any commercial vessels belonging to the FRCP and, instead, physically impede them from sailing further into central Greater Díenstad and force them to turn around.
The admiral steeled himself and then called his wife, telling her to take the kids to the beach without him. He had work to do.
In three days' time, operations to clear the "interior waters" from all commercial ships belonging to the FRCP would commence. He hoped that the FRCP saw reason and backed down.
Days later...
MAGECASTLE, THE ICE STATES
Derego flew out to TIS two days after arriving at Matagalpa. He left with Hiram Jelelope, a Frommian who had just been promoted to the rank of jogornos within the diplomatic corps. Hiram was to be the head of the diplomatic mission to TIS, but Derego was instructed to go with him and lead the initial conversations due to this experience and knowledge of the region. Once a formal embassy was established in TIS, Hiram would take over and Derego could focus on the Nicaro-side of things. Their plane skirted around southern Nicaro, there was always the fear of a rebel MANPAD aiming for them, and then entered TIS airspace from the northeast. They flew directly to Magecastle, where all of TIS' foreign embassies were hosted. Derego and Hiram were told that they'd be meeting with representatives of TIS' emperor of significance. The discussions were to be high level and they were not to promise anything concrete without some sort of early concession in return.
"I suppose you'll take the lead this time?" asked Hiram, as they started their descent.
The other diplomat nodded. "Aye, that's the plan. At least for the first round of talks. I suspect you'll be handling the rest of them on your own."
Hiram looked down toward his lap. "This is my first major posting with this sort of responsibility," he said.
They each had a small glass with a few ounces of dark brown liquor in them. Derego took a sip. He said, "Peaty on the palette, with a nice spice on the finish. Good stuff. Imported from Paquat, New Empire. It's amazing the things we have access to these days. Whiskeys from New Empire, wine and cheeses from Guffingford, Indran hams... The list is almost infinite. Think about that. Almost everything we want is at our fingertips. And that entire network is managed by the imperial administration, including hundreds of people just like us. I guess my point is that you're in good company. Just remember that we are the Golden Throne and that most states would love to be on our good side. Don't be arrogant, just be assured that you are backed by a history of success, and you'll be fine." He patted the other man on the back.
"Thanks," muttered Hiram. He downed the rest of the liquor in the glass just as the flight attendant came over to ask them to clear the table and prepare for landing.
