Days of Intrigue: Stories from Esvanovia [Closed]

by **The Esvanovian Caretaker** » Wed Jan 04, 2023 5:48 am

"If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster."

— Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The OP wishes to thank all of the hardworking nations in the region for all their work in helping to establish this region and construct the framework for what the region of Esvanovia will become. Special thanks is also extended to the nation of Neu Engollon for their continued assistance and support in this endeavor.

IMPORTANTLINKS
Esvanovia Regional Home|Regional Discord Server|Regional Map Home|Regional Sign-Up Thread
Comments, concerns or questions about Esvanovia can be directed via telegram to The Esvanovian Caretaker.

Welcome to the Days of Intrigue thread, the regional short story hub for Esvanovia here at NationStates! Here, members of our region can post their one-off roleplays and short-form posts in a compendium, to be catalogued and preserved for readers to view whenever they wish. The rules are simple: if you have a story that isn’t quite long enough for a full roleplay, consider posting here in Intrigue to let reader get a taste of what you’re laying down instead! Please do not use this thread to post full roleplays (they really deserve their own thread for that), and please respect community guidelines with respect to writing requirements on content. If you have any questions about the thread, please contact The Esvanovian Caretaker or New Azura via telegram for more info.

Please be sure to give each story you post a title in order to make it easier to catalogue for the OP! Thank you!

by **Anagonia** » Wed Jan 04, 2023 7:46 am

Wednesday, September 8th 105 AUR
0900 Hours Anagonian Standard Time
Confederate National House, Liberty City, LY

Auristi Canisilus gently hummed to herself outside the main entrance to the National House, watering a few of the hanging plants that lined the top of the tetrastyle. She had chosen them herself when Mileethus first took office. A few Chenille plants lined the side she was presently on and, upon second look, she'd have to prune later on in the week. They were a common sight back in her native tribes, where the climate was warmest and the rains were heavy when the seasons changed. That was at least the folklore of the Komodren, of the times when they lived in their ancient homes before their species - or what was left of them - had been rescued by United Republic forces centuries prior. She had chosen them specifically because of their importance to her native culture, to symbolize that even here at the heart of the Nation, the needs and memory of her heritage were not forgotten. If nothing else, they made a spectacular display piece for visiting dignitaries.

Carefully she maneuvered the watering can to pour what she felt was the required amount inside the Chenille's pot. This task was typically reserved for the National House butlers, but after they had seen how easy it was for her to tend to the high-hanging plants due to her natural height, they had stifled most of their complaints. There were still grumblings here and there and admittedly they were in the right - after all, they were paid to do this! However Auristi had promised herself that regardless of where Mileethus' life took them, she would always tend to the things most needed for her husband and mate. This, to her, was one of those things needing tending to. After a short conversation with the Head Butler a few weeks back, most of those that had grumbled had quieted down. It was her zen time, her "me" time, and they'd be well and good to allow that to her for the sake of her sanity and constant worrying for her husband.

She moved to the front after tending to the last one along the right side underneath the tetrastyle. Here was dominated a few Boston Fern's, intertwined with the line of Chenille's. This was a repeating pattern to the other side as well, something she hadn't particularly planned on, but for the most part didn't argue. There was no special significance to the Boston Fern's being here other than Mileethus' stating one time that he, "rather liked the look of them". That was enough reason for her to request them being here. She continued her quiet, hummed song as she watered those as well. A soft rustling sound caught her attention as she finished the last pot on the front, her body stilling for a moment as only the gentle rustling of her tail on the concrete caught her ears. She heard the noise again, turning her head to the right to view the figure just behind the Rosa Knock Out bush.

"Sorry, Ma'am," the Military Policeman said once he saw he had been spotted. He quietly slipped behind the bush, and became obstructed from view by a Little Giant just behind the line of two Rosa Knock Out's.

Auristi sighed, pondering a moment before continuing her morning ritual. It hadn't been the MP's presence that had bothered her, rather the fact that he was donned in full battle uniform with weapons and Melkos knew what else at his disposal. Ever since that Chief Admiral Evans had taken over the Military, she had seen more of these Military Policeman than ever before. They watched her constantly, following her, always at a safe distance. It was four days ago when she finally had enough that she confronted one, telling him in not-too-stern of a tongue that following a lady was very impolite and that they're best off staying hidden. Ever since encounters like the one she had just seen took place, always with an apology, and always retreating back from view. It must of been a game for them, she concluded. Considering how fearful the young MP had been who she had originally confronted, maybe this was some sort of dare. Her mind wandered with possibilities as to why and how as she concluded her watering, observing the healthy dose of sunlight on her plants as she gazed around the front of the National Lawn.

Everything was in order. She felt good about the way it looked. The Butlers and Lawnskeepers would tend to the rest, but she had done her part. As if on cue, she felt a gentle tug on her shirt, turning to see one of the Maid's. They exchanged a bow of the head as Auristi handed over the watering can, quickly then left in silence as the Maid retreated inside without so much as a noise from the impressive two-door entryway. Instead of pondering on the mystery of it, her mind and eyes were firmly placed on the driveway that gently curved just a little ways off the front lawn. As if on cue, she saw the motorcade pull up from the street and briefly hidden by a few trees and the famous Weeping Willow that had been planted decades back. She clasped her hands to her chest, an excited hop to her gait as she stood there underneath the ceiling of the tetrastyle before gently taking the steps down onto the concrete path to greet her husband.

He emerged from the main car, followed by two MP's who - upon seeing her - looked away. Auristi ignored the possible slight of ignorance or, perhaps, fear and persisted her gait to her husband. The two met halfway, gently placing the tips of their snouts to the others in a show of intimacy and greeting before clasping each others hands.

"How was the meeting, my mate and husband?"

"It went fine," Mileethus replied to his wife, giving what in their kinds eyes was a clear smile. "The Emperor of Imperius took my assurances well. I believe this Confederal Union shall persist our current crisis."

"On that I do know," Auristi sated firmly, glancing briefly at the MP's with a quick scowl. "Come then, follow me inside. You must be famished."

"At once, my love."

Mister and Misses President held hands firmly as they both turned, locking arms in unison to walk together up to and just under the tetrastyle. Mileethus stopped briefly, his wife perplexed at first until she noticed him looking at the hanging plants. His smile seemed to broaden as he looked at each one, admiring them, admiring the work of his mate and love. Auristi couldn't help but feel a growing sense of relief that her hard work was recognized, and a blossoming sense of love for her husband who seemed to take the time to appreciate it. He gently placed his free hand to hers, giving a pat as he gazed into her eyes.

"You have done fantastic with the plants, my dear," he stated. "I enjoy it each time I enter this building."

They shared the touching of their snouts again, this time for an extended period, before they each resumed their walk inside. The two MP's that had followed the President were swift to open the doors for him, granting them entry before they closed the doors and stood guard outside. The day was beautiful, the sun shined, and a few birds flew between the hanging plants above them. One if the Military Policeman took brief note of a robin flying by his field of view before returning his attention to his post.

by **Anagonia** » Wed Jan 04, 2023 7:47 am

Dragons Berth Mountain Range Imperial State Park
Second Slope, a few miles from the Drekamythian Dragon Den #5915
Confederate Army Ranger Outpost #2595
Bravo Company, Foxtrot Squad, routine watch
Sometime in 45 AUR

Tiberius Farus dismounted the M2101 IFV from topside after grabbing a few more ration packs for his squad, the four-foot tall lizardman plumping to the ground with a gentle thud as he scurried back over to the active campfire. Surrounding it were five other members of his squad, with a sixth in the IFV watching the nightvision scopes. It was his first deployment since entering voluntary service, a liberty granted only to the non-human tribes of Anagonia. He had wanted to see more than the little few scant hundred-acre reservation that his tribe lived on and, following a ride from a Military Policeman, signed up at the nearest towns Army Recruitment Center. Four years had passed since then and, despite the intensity of his training, his eyes still looked on the world with eager wonder and awe.

"Thanks Chip!" called out their squad lead, "Go ahead and disperse the supplies. Grab yourself one too and join us."

Tiberius gave an eager nod, panting a bit through exertion as he scurried to hand out a ration pack to his squadmates. He had originally intended to follow the letter of his commanding officers orders and only grab enough for his squad, but being the smart little Kroman he was, he had thought ahead and grabbed himself one as well. After the last had been dispersed, he sat on a provided log on the other end of the campfire and sorted his equipment. Grabbing the necessary tools from his carry-pounce, he opened his ration and, like everyone else, began preparations to eat.

The others around him were all human, of different varieties. He had found out early on that, unlike Kromen, humans appeared in various sizes and colors that would put the most elaborate Kromen ritual display to shame. He also found out the hard way that trying to separate definitions between these differences was not acceptable and extremely frowned upon. Unlike his people, who had separated Kromen into separate castes dependent on their size, stature, scale color and posture, humans practiced no such thing in Anagonia if rarely at all. So he had adapted, noting that some "cultures" of human emphasized these differences in jokes but never in a capacity to cause division. Once he had figured out the practicality of it, it hadn't been hard to adapt to.

"Hey Chip, what's it like where you come from?"

His thoughts disrupted, the small lizardman tilted his head up so one eye glanced at the squadmate who had asked the question. It was their heavy weapons expert, Corporal Hudson. A Native Anagonian with a rough streak in his early life, all sorts of tattoos still visible where his combat uniform couldn't hide skin. The question itself was innocent enough, considering Tiberius had only been attached to this squad for little under a month now. Their objective had been to watch over the Drekamyhthian Dragon dens in the area, in cooperation with the Imperial Park Rangers. It was an excellent task for newly graduated recruits to the Armed Forces, gaining experience in the field while also acclimating themselves to their new military lifestyle. As Tiberius recalled, Hudson had only graduated from his mandatory - a term Humans used to describe their service time - only two months ago.

"It not fun like this," Tiberius replied, his voice hoarse and broken while using the Anagonian tongue. "Much hurt, boredom, no fun. Nothing to do. No machine to tinker. I like tinker with machine."

Hudson gave a simple appraising nod, returning to his meal. Tiberius had been assigned to Foxtrot Squad at the request of Sergeant Alonso Patterson, their present squad leader. The previous technician had moved on to bigger and better things after finishing their six months in the mountains and, left with few choices, Alonso had opted to try a different route for once. Kromen were famous for their ability as expert technicians and mechanics, Tiberius no different. Their obsessive nature with ensuring things worked correctly and finding out how things ticked made them perfect for ensuring the smooth operation of mechanical assets. What few Kromen were in the military currently all partook in some level of mechanical repair. Last week Tiberius had gained the appreciation of his squad when the M2101 had broken down. Without being ordered, Tiberius had opened the engine compartment and found the issue - a bad carburetor valve. A spare had been included and using that, he had spared his squad from an excruciating experience in sweltering heat.

"Why did it hurt?" came another question.

Tiberius didn't look up this time, offering a shrug instead. He knew the voice. The squad demolition expert, Private Zaney. He had initially been one of the few who hazed Tiberius a lot for his appearance and stature. After last week, however, he had shown nothing but respect to the small lizardman. After chomping down a particularly large piece of meat and rice, Tiberius remained silent for a moment longer, eyes looking up to fixate on the fire.

"It not fun, lots of hurt," the Kroman clarified. "You different, your scale different, you put lower than all else. Sometimes beat. I was beat. Taught to serve. No like. Saw Policeman, begged to escape. Came here for new life. No more question on hurt, okay?"

His eyes met those of Zaney's and, for a brief moment, Tiberius thought he saw sympathy. The human gave a nod, returning to his meal as Tiberius did the same. For a long thirty minutes no one said anything. The fire crackled, the sounds of nature flowed around them as crickets reached a crescendo. Then, all at once, everything became quiet. It was as if a switch had been turned as Tiberius watched his squad, all of whom had far better instincts trained into them than he, immediately set their plates down and grab their weapons to go prone. Tiberius followed suit, grabbing his M4A1 Carbine from the back of his shoulder and readying his weapon. The sound of the turret atop the IFV whine gently as the automated pumps worked to ensure the swivel worked correctly was all that was heard for a few seconds.

"Report," ordered the squad leader in a hushed tone, but he spoke only into his mic receiver. A few more seconds went by of the turret checking again and again every point of its three-hundred and sixty degree radius.

"Nothing Sarge," the reply finally came back from within the turret. The gunner, a Corporal who had opted to stay with his machine for several rotations now, kept slowly moving the turret as its optics scanned the night. "I ain't seeing nothin. No movement. Maybe it was a Dreka?"

"Probably," replied Sergeant Patterson. The thought seemed to relax him a little, if only just. Dragons didn't just hunt humans for no reason and this specific cave had been monitored for decades now, granting the Anagonians a slight immunity to their ire - or so common belief held. It would be a first if a dragon attacked a human unprovoked. Until that time, there existed an unspoken trust between the two races.

A slight noise of wind fell over the campsite and, for a moment, the soldiers there grabbed cover as they held their heads. It was too quick to track for the turret who had only a few brief instances of a lock, but the night and campfire light played havoc on the visuals no doubt. After a moment, the gunner reported.

"I didn't get a good spot but I'm pretty damn sure that was a dragon," he reported. "Probably a vising pair, went to the den and behind the mountain near the front entrance. Just a few flakes of dusk, no emissions I can tell."

"At ease," the Sarge ordered the squad and, quickly, all those around the campfire returned to their prior activities of finishing their meal. They had been smart enough to at least set their plates down without spilling much, and other than a stray ant or two, nothing had been lost. "Keep a watch but don't provoke them," Sergeant Patterson ordered to his gunner.

"Roger Sarge, playing nice."

"Hey Tim, jot down the arrival," the Sergeant said to the squads operator. The small, thin man gave a nod as he got out a PDA of sorts and began to catalogue the encounter as was protocol. The Sergeant looked at the rest of the squad, giving an appraising nod. "Finish your meals, then myself and Tiberius will take first watch. Rest of you when your done form your cots in the IFV. No bunk sharing....Susan. Tim."

As his head turned to the two known culprits of fraternization, the squad emitted a soft laugh in unison. Time waned in the night, with another event of the crickets going silent but overall no indication that nothing mechanical or man-made had flown by. By the time the crickets once again felt safe to resume their song, Tiberius and his commanding officer watched over the burning embers of a previously waning fire. The two utilized their night-vision goggles to scan the horizon, occasionally taking notes if they saw any movement from the vicinity of the dragons nest on a notepad. Time of incident and date of happening were included, all information critical to understand the Drekamythian Dragons better so cohabitation between humanity and dragons - insofar as within Anagonia - could continue unabated.

"You have any plans after your tour here?" Sergeant Patterson asked, quiet and hushed in tone. His eyes remained on his surroundings, but he was clearly interested in passing time with conversation.

Tiberius shrugged, "Make home and family, maybe," was what he managed. He wasn't directly used to conversing much, just tinkering. Tinkering and fixing things. "Maybe fix things for living, maybe stay and fix more things. Bigger things. Flying things. Get degree, experience, learning. Yeah, maybe that. You?"

Alonso thought for a moment, then, "Retire."

The rest of their watch was similar in scope. Small snippets of conversation, short talk, little explanation with very blunt ramifications. It was an interesting exchange that had repeated for the past week, one which Tiberius didn't seem to mind. Eventually, however, the shift changed and after sorting his backpack and weapon, Tiberius drifted off for a few hours of sleep in the larger than comfortable cot inside the IFV. He felt more comfortable here, like he really belonged and was valued. Not like home. Not like where the hurt was. Silently as the last branches of consciousness submitted to sleep, he promised himself he'd build himself a better future without that hurt.

by **New Azura** » Wed Jan 04, 2023 3:44 pm

Monday, August 10^th, 2020

Giardini al Chiaro di Luna, Raevenna, Evenguard of Azura

Oleg Korzakhov was walking towards him suddenly out of the dim lighting in the garden of the Giardini al Chiaro di Luna coffee shoppe, the old man weaving his way around patrons enjoying the brisk evening air outdoors in the late Raevenna evening. This was not an expected meeting, but one he had anticipated having at some point nonetheless; Aristide Di Norcia was prone to bouts of exerting himself on preparing for all eventualities. His time as a... "gardener" abroad had taught him to leave no stone unturned, lest some poisonous little vermin sneak up and tag you in your posterior. For Aristide, the man whom his former employers had taken to calling "Mezzanotte" (Midnight), it was unbecoming to be caught as unprepared as he was regardless of any expected rendezvous. He should have been at least halfway expecting some sort of chance encounter with the man before he made off for Kylarnatia.

He had come to the outdoor café on personal time, expecting to find some solitary peace and quiet in the fresh evening air before returning to post for the evening. His chances to get out and enjoy the outdoor life was so exceedingly rare these days, and it wore on him if he must tell the truth. Of course, telling the truth was a dangerous concept around someone like Aristide, who worked in deception like other men worked in used automotive sales. Being on guard at all times was the only way to truly protect oneself when they endeavored to play at the game of statecraft, and he was no ordinary practitioner of the craft to be sure. On the contrary, he made it a point to be the one that stacked the deck to his liking whenever and wherever he could, which made the impending visit from Korzakhov so very frustrating. As poignant as it was for his predecessor to wish him well, he simply could do without the pleasantry of it all.

As predicted, Korzakhov came to a stop by his table, staring for a second at Aristide with wide, prying eyes; the kind of eyes that sought to burrow into a man's soul and reveal all hidden truths. Aristide knew better than to play that particular cat-and-mouse game with someone the likes of Korzakhov, who had cut his teeth in the Evenguard's diplomatic corps for more than forty years now. He had risen up through the ranks as a handyman of sorts, putting out diplomatic fires wherever they sprang up, and he had earned a reputation for being good at his job. It was almost as well known as his reputation for being an indulgent cock of the walk that embraced every sinful proclivity one could think to make up before his breakfast was served to him. Yes indeed, Korzakhov was a man who enjoyed living on the edge of life, which for a man of his advanced age was more dangerous than it would have been for most. Still...

He's good at what he does, so watch yourself...

"Funny I should find you here, Mister Di Norcia," Korzakhov cooed, his eyes betraying nothing. Aristide smiled up at him.

“My dear Mister Korzakhov,” Aristide opened, but not before sipping from his espresso, the warm liquid coursing through him. “What a delightful surprise; would you care to join me?”

“Delighted to, you flowery fucker,” Oleg said bluntly as he eased his old, aching bones into the seat across from Mezzanotte at the table. “Drinking espresso at this late hour, are we?”

“Why counsel, there is no time like the present to enjoy all of life’s simple pleasures, wouldn’t you agree?” Aristide took another sip from his cup, leaning in towards Oleg; “I particularly enjoy the Arrosto Scuro.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m more of a tits ‘n’ ass man myself,” Korzakhov said caustically, looking around for one of the garden’s ubiquitous waitresses. “This isn’t my usual choice for a night cap.”

“So it would seem,” Di Norcia quipped, leaning back in his chair, tracing his finger around the rim of his cup. “One must beg the question then, ‘Why does the Counsel to the Governess Emeritus come out here at this time of night, seeking an audience with his replacement. Did you need bus fare, Oleg?”

Korzakhov was less than impressed, replying sardonically: “Watch it, smartass; I’m not too old to give you an ass whipping.”

Aristide was unphased. “But my dear friend, would you remember having given it afterwards?”

The two men stared at one another for a moment, then gave each other a reassuring grin. Oleg put his hand on his chin, his eyes beaming: “You know, there was a time that I could have had you killed. You should be thanking your lucky stars I hitched my wagon to the Governess Emeritus and not your boss.”

Di Norcia took another long, slow sip from his espresso before answering casually. “Would it disappoint you to know that you’re not the first person that has threatened me with death, Counsel? On the contrary, my time as an expert gardener has placed me in some bizarrely threatening situations before.”

“Gardener, pfft,” Oleg scoffed. “Is that what you’re calling it? Don’t try to play me the fool, boy, I only act like a cantankerous coot because it suits me. I know what you were, what you still are.”

“What I am is a man enjoying a fine Azuri roast in this lovely garden terrace,” Di Norcia remarked as he finished the last of his beverage before pushing the cup and its saucer away from him on the stone table. “Dining al fresco really does liven up the spirit, Mister Korzakhov, you should try it more.”

“Son, my preferred pastime is snorting blow off the ass crack of a new woman every other Thursday, I doubt dining outdoors would do much to move me,” Oleg mused. “Just remember to do your job, and do your job well for your new boss, lest we come back from Kylarnatia and reclaim power.”

“Ahh yes,” Aristide snidely remarked, realizing now what it was that had brought Oleg Korzakhov out of the woodwork to visit him at such an hour. “So the old counsel of Calixte Vardanyan wants to tell the new counsel of Giulia Trevisani how to do his job, how quaint. I appreciate your candor, sir!”

“Don’t fool around on me, boy,” Oleg scolded him, pointing a bony finger in his direction. “I still have connections with friends in high places that would make your life a living hell. I could have you peeling potatoes in the commissary of the gift shop at the capitol before you know it!”

“My dear sir, I am but a plain and simple gardener looking to make his way in the Evenguard,” Di Norcia coyly replied, leaning forward in his chair. “But I will certainly take your words to heart; you can never have too many potential clients, after all. Sometimes you wind up pruning the most delicate of flowers.”

“The only flower I intend to prune is that of an twenty-one year old novice at the whorehouse later tonight,” Korzakhov interjected. “Just remember what I told you here tonight; the Governess Emeritus has a keen eye on her replacement and will not hesitate to step in if she feels the Evenguard is in danger.”

“Of course, of course!” Aristide nodded up and down, clapping his hands in front of him. “Well played indeed, Counsel, I would expect nothing less of a devoted, adopted child of the Evenguard. Allow me to comfort you with these words, then: as someone guarding their birthright, I shall protect the Evenguard to the last.”

“Just because you are a natural born child of the Azuri means little compared to the awesome responsibility one takes upon themselves to defend an adopted homeland,” Korzakhov chastised him, trying to regain the initiative in their tête-à-tête. “I care just as much as you do, boy.”

“Of that, I have little doubt,” Aristide nodded. “You are Oleg Korzakhov, the patron to Calixte, one of the great statesmen of our era. I would be remiss in not taking you by the hand and embracing my predecessor to entreat with him on the fine work he performed in the station I seek to ascend to.”[

Di Norcia extended his arm across the table in faux-humility, waiting for a moment to see if Oleg would take him by the hand or not. Despite appearances, Korzakhov was a proud man, prone to bouts of vanity almost at certain times, and it appeared for the moment like this would be another one of those instances. Then the moment passed however, and Korzakhov calmly stood up from his seat at the table, straining gently against the age on his world-weary body to rise up against the clattering of creaky bones. He looked down at Aristide with a look of indignation and disgust, but one laced at least with some modicum of respect. Korzakhov was no fool at the end of the day; he knew full well what the name Mezzanotte meant in the intelligence community, what he brought to the table. There was, in at the last, a slight show of respect for a man of his particular talents at least.

"Serve the Governess, and serve her well," Oleg said as he moved to step away. As he walked, he called back to Aristide, laughing: "We'll be watching, Midnight; don't screw up too badly and make us all look foolish now, will you?"

Aristide smiled politely, waiting until Korzakhov was just out of earshot before answering him. "Not on your life, Counsel."

by **The Qoryx** » Sat Jan 07, 2023 3:39 am

Sündenhaus Nachtklub / "Sin House Nightclub", Reichstadt Mühlhude
Music playing during this story: CHARGE - Astral Throb

Sören exited the tram and looked up at the imposing buildings all around him. Having only been in the city one week, he was still impressed by the size of everything and the constant buzz. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before - an Estate-sized hypercity that was constantly doing something at all hours of the day. It truly lived up to the “city that never sleeps” nickname. Mühlhude was the polar opposite of his home town; modern supertall buildings everywhere, impeccably dressed people everywhere, public transport of every kind imaginable, food and drinks of every kind imaginable, and more city police than he’d ever seen in his life.

He snapped out of his thoughts and quickly glanced on his visual augmentation to the clock; his meeting was only in 10 minutes. Since he was specifically told not to be early, he was nervous that he would end up being late - something an Arvolken civilian could barely stand, let alone a man who only last week was an officer in the Eisengarde. He was just thankful chance encounters with a neighbour and a nice lady at the U-bahn station helped him get here on time, as his assigned housing was pretty far from this part of the city.

He sifted through his visual augmentation for his meeting notes, and looked around for the address he had been given. He knew he was at the right transit stop, but which building was number 125? His eyes strained as he tried to filter out the excessive lights, before he finally saw it; 125 Böhmgasse. He oriented himself and realised that it was actually the building right across from the transit stop, how convenient! As he entered the building a man held the door for him, and Sören thanked him with a customary salute. He walked over to the elevators and got inside one but stood there absentmindedly, planning out what his route would be every day in his head and making notes on his visual augment device. A man and woman got into the elevator a few minutes after him and the man pushed the top floor button, which whisked them all upwards towards the top of the massive building. As he was going to the same floor, Sören didn’t bother to intrude in the couple’s very public display of affection towards each other during the elevator ride. When the doors opened, he was violently pulled out of his thoughts and into the real world again.

Music. Loud music, and not just any music; it was club music. He looked at the elevator button for a moment as the couple exited, and realised there was a little advertisement next to it: Sündenhaus Nachtklub. What?? Was he in the right place? It said top floor, but surely he’s not having a meeting in a nightclub?

Stepping out of the elevator, he looked around and was caught utterly shocked at how many people were in the club. The main club area was clearly laid out in a square, with a second floor overlooking the dance area in the centre. Everyone was dancing, drinking, or taking drugs while dark synthwave music played and lights everywhere flashed and moved around the club. It was absolutely electric! Sören had always enjoyed synthwave, so this was exactly the sort of place he would be frequenting on his time off, whenever that might be.

Heading up to the second floor, he found Rorane sat in the far corner of the club, evidently completely unphased by the drunken dancing and shenanigans going on around and below her. She just stared down into her cup, lost in her thoughts. As Sören approached, the music shifted to a faster, more upbeat song which caused Rorane to look up, and their eyes met. She smiled widely, got up from the wall-long sofa bench she sat on, and saluted him before shouting over the music.

„Sören! I bet you weren’t expecting your first meeting to be held in a nightclub, were you! Isn’t this place the fucking shit?! There’s nothing as good as this anywhere in Esvanovia.”

Sören returned her salute and laughed at her very Mühlhuden greeting. „It’s definitely the first nightclub I’ve been in where I wasn’t here to get drunk, that’s for sure,” he replied.

Looking around the club, he then realised that the entire roof was transparent.

„This club is so incredible! I shall have to return another day to experience it as it should be - drunk and high on something fun.”

The two laughed and sat down on the sofa bench.

„Now as I’m sure you were told already, I’m Rorane, but I insist everyone call me Ro. Happy to have you on the team, Sören.” Rorane was looking out at the crowd, but talking to him.

Sören wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but wasn’t really willing to ask as he was too nervous that he was sitting across from an actual END agent - a team leader no less!

„Thank you, ehm, Ro. I’m glad to be a part of your team. Ehm, question for you. Speaking of the team, am I meeting the rest of them today at all? Or would that be another day,” Sören asked. Just as he finished, he saw the lady from the U-bahn station emerge from the crowd and walk past the two of them. He was absolutely transfixed by her as she walked by them.

„Oh don’t worry, you already have,” Rorane replied.

Sören turned back at her to see a grin painted across her face. He was surprised and impressed at the same time. „Alright, I definitely didn’t see that coming. Was it all-” he started to ask.

„All of the people you had ‘chance’ encounters with today, yes.” Rorane replied, her eyes scanning Sören’s face to read his reaction. He was just utterly amazed, and it definitely showed.

„Including the door boy - he was our lookout that you’d made it to the club. In a massive city like this, the first thing you’ll have to start thinking is that everyone is watching you. Not the civvies of course, they’re too busy living in the greatest city in Esva to even notice you, but if we’re doing our jobs right and our clients are doing their jobs right, you’ll be watched at all times and not even know about it.”

Sören leaned in, curious about something Rorane said. „What do you mean by ‘clients’? Who are our clients, one of the Guilds?”

Rorane smiled, leaned in towards him and spoke in a softer voice really only loud enough to be heard by Sören over the music. „That’s the term we use for an Arvolken who’s really ausland scum, because in a way we work for them; only it’s our job to make their jobs harder.”

Sören nodded and thought about what she said. His only knowledge of the END and what it did was from the lens of it being viewewd as a terrifying organisation, jokingly called the “Treue Polizei”, or loyalty police. Everyone only really sees it as this secret police-style agency that makes people disappear for seemingly being disloyal to the Imperial Unity, but that clearly isn’t the full picture Rorane is painting here. He continued listening intently.

„Sniffing out which one of us Arvolken they are is only part of the job, because technology is always hackable and identification can be forged with the right skills. Understanding who they are, how they operate, and most importantly what they’re after, is the other part of our job. But how do we sniff them out you ask? Simple. We find out what they like, what places they frequent as they go about their daily life, who they talk to, and what they say when they talk to those people, and we rip them out root and stem - that’s what our job is really about. We do whatever must be done to weed out these dirty ausländer, not the loyal and true Arvolken. Do you understand that now, Sören?” Rorane said, looking directly and seriously into his eyes without flinching or blinking.

Sören felt a sudden shift in his view of the job, and the hesitation he had about his selection for this career path faded. „Now I do, yes. I admit I only viewed the END from the civvie perspective, but I understand now that the END are not after Arvolken, rather Arvolken who are really dirty ausländer. It makes complete sense now. Is that why we’re in this club today instead of at the office, wherever that is?” he asked.

Rorane smirked, as she could see he was starting to put it all together. „That’s right, we’re here to introduce you to one of our clients. And we don’t really have an office per sé, but you’ll have more information tomorrow. Now tell me, of all the people in this room, did you notice anyone that stood out?”

Sören scanned the room again, looking very carefully at each person’s face and outfit, what they carried, and where and how they were standing or dancing. He turned back to Rorane with a defeated look, which caused her to smile and pat his shoulder.

„It’s alright, it comes with time. Look across the room at the table right by the opposite corner to us on this floor. See that good-looking woman in her 30s? What can you tell me about her?”

Sören stroked his well-groomed but bushy moustache and studied her. „She just looks like an Arvolken to me, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Is she a dirty auslander?” he asked, turning to Rorane.

Ignoring him, she leaned in and asked another question instead. „What can you tell me about the group sitting at the end of this sofa bench?”

Sören panicked, as the man was sitting only two or three tables away. Carefully he peered over at a well-dressed man in his 30s chatting up the woman and man he had seen on the elevator. They seemed to all be enjoying themselves, drinking and laughing with each other at various points throughout the conversation. One thing piqued his interest though, the couple didn’t seem to have the same unbridled intimacy as before, as they sat on either side of the man instead of next to each other. Sören leaned in, and Rorane did as well.

„The two on the outside were on the elevator I came up on, and they were practically inseparable for the whole ride. Now, they seem to be sitting opposite one another, as if they are all friends. Are they clients of ours?”

Rorane smiled and chuckled to herself, impressed.

„In the centre there is my good friend Ortwin Marquardt, a gardner at GDFZ’s Guildhall Mühlhude in the bay not far from here, who I’ve known for most of my 7 years with END. He’s also goes by ‘midnight’ or ‘mezzanotte’ in his mother tongue; that’s his code name for when he does work as the head of Azuran foreign intelligence in The RE.”

Sören was visibly shocked and confused by this revelation. „Hold on, your good friend is Azuran auslander scum?” he asked.

Rorane chuckled. „Well, no, we have never formally met, but our paths have crossed on a few occasions, and I have seen his handiwork in cleaning up loose ends more than once. I’m sure he is in the same position with me, in that he’s seen my work and crossed paths with me before, we’ve just never formally met as our true selves.”

Sören nodded. „Okay, so why don’t we arrest him right now? There’s obviously enough of us here,” he asked.

Rorane smiled and chuckled softly. „We don’t want to scare our prey now do we? No, I have a much better solution to that problem tonight, one that doesn’t make any unnecessary ripples. We want his boss to think he was just unfortunate and got discovered by chance, not that we’ve been onto him from the moment he landed here 7 years ago. I’ve heard from our colleagues at RND that he might get passed over for a big promotion because of how well he is doing here, and that just isn’t good for our business. He’s a very efficient and effective agent, and I’d almost be impressed at his skills and accomplishments if he wasn’t such a dirty fucking auslander in my beloved country. So instead, I’m going to send him a message that he’s burned and needs to leave on his own, because in the world of spycraft there’s a gentleman’s code for these sorts of things...” she trailed off for a moment before picking up the spoon and stirring the drink, which Sören could now see was a coffee or espresso of some kind.

„How will you do that, and how can I help?” Sören inquired.

Rorane looked at him and smiled, before handing him a small portable data storage device from her dress pocket.

„You won’t be helping with that tonight pal, instead I want you to take that data stick and read it at home tonight while you’re offline. Tomorrow you’ll be on a DZ train to Adefurt where you’ll meet one of your partners, Hadewidis. She’ll brief you on what you’re doing next.”

Sören took the data strip and examined it; he was excited to see what was on it. As he stood up to leave, he had one last burning question on his mind.

„What about the other two sitting with our client?” he asked.

Rorane smirked and stood up to whisper into Sören’s ear.

„The woman works for Stern in Adefurt, and was in the city for a meeting with the GDFZ today. She’ll be heading home on the DZ train you’ll be taking to Adefurt tomorrow. So far as we can tell, she’s an Arvolken traitor selling industry secrets in exchange for career advancement. The man, however, is relatively unknown to us. We know he works at the GDFZ, and we have it on good authority is actually auslander scum, but we don’t know where from yet. He’s not Azuran, so it might be an ally of Azura who is supporting the Azuran intelligence efforts here. We’ll need to figure that out to protect the GDFZ, but we have people working on him. Your focus is the woman.”

Sören nods in understanding. Just as she finishes, Rorane and Sören watch as the man and woman they were just discussing get up, salute the man who remained at the table, and leave the club. Rorane takes the opportunity to stir the cup again, before picking it up and holding it in her left hand.

„Alright, it’s time for you to go so you can get to studying that data stick. Everything you need is on there. It was a pleasure meeting you formally, we’ll chat more tomorrow.”

She salutes, and Sören returns the salute before leaving the club.

Now that Sören had left, Rorane does a walk around the club to kill time before heading over to the table ‘midnight’ is sitting at, and stares him in the eye before setting down the cup.

„We hope you enjoy your midnight espresso before your flight home tomorrow,” she says while giving him that universal 'we know' look, before turning and leaving the club.

by **Havenwalde** » Mon Jan 09, 2023 2:43 am

A typical urban block in Lempertshausen, Havenwalde.

Lempertshausen. A city in Havenwalde which was called home to over 40 million inhabitants in which the vast majority of them are factory workers or miners who work in the neighboring raw mineral mines. There were the more fortunate who simply held office jobs either as civil servants or in some other sort of administration job. The city had been initially a mining town in the late 1950s but with the rise of the Fatherland Front and it's development of popularity among the population followed by an alliance with the National Socialist Party of Ordena which was done to prevent in-fighting and civil unrest. The 1960s saw the development of Lempertshausen into a fully functioning city with a growing population in which much of the former mining town was removed and replaced with paved city streets, 'Plattenbau' styled apartment blocks where the vast majority of the population would reside. Large industrial parks and areas were also developed and constructed within the city as well and would be where many would find jobs, others would seek employment as a miner and work long hours in the mines outside of the city.

The founder and leader at the time during the early years of the Ständestaat had a clear vision for the people in that they would work towards the Führer and keep true to their beliefs in God. Work was their salvation and was a righteous effort that every man, woman and child would carry out. Havenwalde would be completely changed in the following decades under the Reichskommissariat and the Ständestaat into a nation that was driven to work and produce for the Greater Ordenite Reich. Sacrifice was a word used day by day from officials, party members and Church clergy. Production of the resources required from the nation were a duty of all citizens across Havenwalde whether it was from the factories or in the mines, or even in the toxic waste dumping sites. It all required sacrifice whether it be living conditions, lack of quality or quantity of food and the freedoms and rights typically afforded to all in other more liberal nations. Of course despite the hardships of life all would be welcomed to the various Churches where the population could pray and worship God. Freedom of religion was one freedom the elites in Berlina allowed so long as it was only one single religion under the Church of Havenwalde.

Massive efforts on behalf of the Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda in Havenwalde to sway public opinion positively on the regime have been on-going for decades. It also carefully monitored public opinion as well and these observations would be information passed on to the Reich Main Security Office which handled all matters of national security foreign and domestic. Arrests of suspected trouble makers occur day by day either carried out by the Order Police or taken by the Gestapo. A solid and expansive informant network across much of the major cities ensure that a constant flow of information from the population its self about possible suspected trouble makers is dissected and investigated by the proper authorities. All citizens of Havenwalde are also required to become party members of either the NSPO or the Fatherland Front and becoming an advid member of the Church of Havenwalde is also encouraged widely.

Nickolas let out a long sigh as he punched out of his shift at the factory he worked in and had just completed another tiring 8 hour shift. The same shift he had been doing for the past several years since he had finished his compulsory service in the Wehrmacht. The factory was a processing plant for extracted raw minerals coming straight from the mines outside of the city. His job specifically was to sort the minerals and he did so well enough that the factory operators did not give him much trouble unlike others who may be struggling keeping up with the efficiency asked of them. After walking out of the factory premises he made his way on foot to the local train station from which was his main method of transportation to and from his job at the factory. Once he arrived at the train station he waited at the usual platform that he always waited at for his train ride home. In the background he could hear the same music that usually played throughout the train station which was usually a mixture of patriotic songs of the regime.

Looking to his left he noticed a group of Ordenite Youth and their instructor who led them onto the same platform as him. They wore the usual clothing that the Ordenite Youth organization were known for and much of them looked to be teenagers and largely male. Soon more people began to arrive at the platform a mixture of factory workers and local civilians women and children. The Ordenite Youth preoccupied themselves singing patriotic hymns aloud and did so even as they all boarded the train. Nickolas looked on at them as the well groomed and dressed Ordenite Youth continued singing.

"Sing to the sailors on the vast oceans,
Sing to the soldiers on the battlefield,
Sing to the airmen in the vast heavens,
Sing to the workers building the future,
We are the Children,
Leaders of the future,
And we the children swear to thee,
Loyal devotion,
Fearless devotion,
And to fight with dignity,
Sing to the faithful,
Members of the Party,
Sing to the Führer,
Sing to our nation,
Mighty Havenwalde,
Land of Peace and Victory!"

by **New Azura** » Wed Jan 11, 2023 8:20 pm

Fenice Rossa Secure Bunker, Nova Cascella, Evenguard of Azura

There was a deathly silence hanging in the air of the bunker she was now sitting in. The coldness of the concrete walls, unadorned as they were permeated everything. Giovanna Frinzi knew that the Fenice Rossa loved their spartan utilitarianism, but locking her in this tiny little room with a jackal like the woman that sat across from her, that was beyond the pale. It was taking every ounce of her resolve not to reach across the simple metal table – the only furniture in the room other than the stainless steel chairs which were stationed at it – not to reach across and bash the skull in of the woman responsible for so much of her misery and anguish over the past week. Were she not concerned with making it out of the bunker alive again, she may have taken the chance regardless of the consequences. Even then, it was only just enough to keep her from snapping the neck of the stick figure sitting across from her in the nondescript, bare room.

Six days prior, her sister Giorgia – an agent with the same intelligence organization that she belonged to, the Strega Nera – had been ruthlessly hunted down and executed by a member of the circle named Aristide Di Norcia, codename Midnight while she was working the scene down in San Michele. Her anger towards Di Norcia was very much qualified as bloodlust at this point; she planned to make the man bleed when she got her hands on him. It would not be a slow death by any stretch of the imagination. But Di Norcia was the muscle, the jackboot on the ground that killed her sister. It was Corinna Suzuki, a famed Strega Nera operative and Giorgia Frinzi’s former partner that gave her up according to the after-action report Giovanna had managed to ‘creatively’ acquire. The higher-ups would have expected her to find out soon enough about the circumstances of Giorgia’s demise, but putting them together so soon felt like quite a turn…

Someone inside the chain of command has a sick sense of humor…

It was a cruel joke, really. She was in the process of making funeral arrangements for her sister back home in Cira when she had received the summons to report to the safehouse in Nova Cascella for an important assignment. At first, she had reported dutifully, hoping that whoever had taken out her sister had gone rogue, and would be put on deathwatch. When she was led down the utilitarian corridor of the underground facility into the small holding room – a common briefing area for black operations such as assassinations, she had momentarily gotten her hopes up. Those hopes came crashing down when she realized that Corinna Suzuki was already sitting in the room ahead of her, staring at her with daggers. Whatever crimes the Evenguard suspected of Giorgia, it was apparent that Corinna ‘Cutie’ Suzuki felt none too thrilled about Giovanna’s presence in the room. She had very nearly spat in disgust vilely onto the floor.

Giovanna scoffed audibly but said nothing for the moment, sizing up Suzuki’s reaction. Corinna was a transplant to the Evenguard, which made her lower than scum in a storm drain in Giovanna’s eyes. Originally born in Hanasaku in Wishtonia, she had escaped the communist dictatorship to neighboring Xiahua when she was three years old. Eventually her family would pick up and move to Azura, where the young transplant would take a liking to her adopted homeland, learning the language (and several more) in the process of becoming an official government servant. Cutie, as she was known on the job, was remarkably short and thin for someone in the Strega Nera – one of the smallest operatives they had, in fact. Despite her poorly built constitution, she was a natural born assassin with quick wits and fast reflexes. If one made the mistake of turning their back on Suzuki, they were as good as dead. A lesson her sister had failed to heed...

Giovanna started up in earnest; “What, are we letting in all the chaff from the streets now or something? Who let this piece of shit into the building; are our standards fallen so low that we have taken to recruiting bottom feeders like this tica to fill our numbers now?”

“You would be wise to show me some respect, castagnuola,” Corinna shot back, her eyes glaring with seething hatred for her rival. “I would hate for another member of the illustrious Frinzi family to meet their end at the hands of the Strega Nera like ‘dear sister’ did.”

“And you would be wise to shut your mouth and keep my sister’s name out of it,” Giovanna barked with considerable angst and violence dripping from her words. “I will kill you just as quickly as I will kill the rat bastard that killed her in San Michele, you understand me?”

Corinna was less than impressed with the warning, instead flippantly shaking her head to the side, allowing her hair to dart back over her ear. “Pathetic worm, all you and your kind do are stooge. I would wager everything in my pockets you have found your way on the list too.”

“Maybe I should refrain from killing you,” Frinzi replied, placing her hands in front of her on the metal table. “Maybe instead I should just beat the shit out of you until you learn your place in the pecking order. Then again, putting you on your knees might be academic for you, right?”

“Bitch!” Corinna spat venomously, her anger unchecked in the small holding room where the two had been caged up like vicious animals. “If you think you have what it takes to bring me down, why not try it now and see how far you get? I welcome the opportunity to check-“

“Both of you, enough,” a voice called out from a loud speaker mounted near the middle of the southern wall of the nondescript room. “Another ill word from either of you and I will personally install both of your names on my ‘kill on sight’ order sheet. Understand, ladies?”

The two women were forced to internalize their rage, recognizing who the voice belonged to on the speaker, further recognizing that he was not only capable of fulfilling his threat but ever so inclined to do so for the sport of it all. Giovanna’s eyes focused on Corinna, the waifish agent that had been instrumental in taking part in the operation to bring down her sister, never letting her burning hatred skip a beat. For her part, Corinna focused on anything but her in the room, choosing to ignore the subject of her own intense hatred. The two were locked in a sort of primeval game, a blood sport without the blood (at this stage, at least) that was going to eventually erupt in some form of physical altercation. The question at this stage was who was going to break first, the cheetah or the leopardess. If Giovanna had her way, Suzuki would be strung up neatly from the nearest flag pole, right next to the ultimate name on her list, Mezzanotte.

Their brief interlude was concluded when the door to the small holding room opened inward briskly. A tall man wearing a crisp light grey suit and black tie walked into the room, holding a portfolio bearing the insignia of the Fenice Rossa, the ‘sister’ organization to the Strega Nera. He was in his mid-forties, handsome in a rugged sort of way with rough-worn features, neatly trimmed auburn hair and deep, pooling eyes. His stress lines betrayed the workload placed upon him, aging him beyond his years perhaps. With a sigh, he tossed the portfolio onto the metal table top with a chuck, barely reacting to the loud metal clank it made in the airy stillness of the room. Using his foot, he lifted his leg backwards and kicked the door closed, then grabbed for the nearest chair sitting perpendicular to either Corinna or Giovanna. His eyes focused on the portfolio narrowly as he opened it up, peeling through several of the top layers of papers.

The man looked up finally at Corinna, then over to Giovanna, smirking. “I suppose introductions are no longer necessary given the… familiarity with which you two seem to act towards one another. I of course am Mattia Ceasarin of the Fenice Rossa, which you surely already knew.”

The test of wills over who would be the first to raise their voice did not last long; in her anger, Giovanna blurted out, “I have little time for this, Ceasarin. The Fenice Rossa is not exactly on my friendly side these days, and I would rather eat dung than sit here with this piece of shit.”

“The feeling is mutual, whore,” Corinna fired back, her words barbed and brutal. She then turned to Mattia, her glare focused squarely on him now. “I cannot in good faith say I am fond of the Fenice Rossa either. You had best have a damn good reason for dragging me to this room.”

“Both of you can kindly shut the fuck up, now,” Ceasarin replied to Corinna, turning his attention back again towards Giovanna as he continued, “and remember your place, ladies. Just because you have clout in our line of work does not extend infinite grace. Watch yourselves.”

Corinna thought about trading that shot back with one of her own, but the intensity with which Ceasarin spoke seemed to ward off any retaliatory attack. Instead, she softened up her approach considerably: “Fine, you have us here. Obviously something is afoot; what is going on?”

Before Mattia could speak, Corinna interjected herself, stating: “Is it not obvious to you? We are obviously here to conduct some sort of joint Strega Nega / Fenice Rossa operation. Ceasarin here is calling the shots, and is probably to be our handler in the field for whatever comes next.”

Ceasarin looked more annoyed than he did frustrated, but he ultimately gave Corinna a slight nod of acknowledgement. “Her instincts are correct – partially, at least. For this operation, the Strega Nera have given you two over to my charge, so this is quietly penned as a Fenice Rossa op.”

Both women sitting in the room shot puzzled looks at one another despite the burning animosity between them. Giovanna arched an eyebrow towards Mattia; “Why would the Fenice Rossa need Strega Nera assassins to work a case? Why not just recruit in house; this is highly irregular.”

Once more, it was Corinna who interjected herself into the conversation yet again, beating Mattia to the punch. “It could only mean one thing, really; someone higher up in the chain of command thinks the Fenice Rossa structure is compromised, thus necessitating our involvement here.”

“That is a really annoying habit that you have picked up,” Ceasarin deadpanned towards Corinna, before once more nodding towards her. “But again, well played. We think we have a double agent turning our operatives in the field, so we need ‘outside help’ for this assignment.”

The words stung at a deep, abiding wound within Corinna, who had yet to fully process the idea that her own sister had been terminated by the Fenice Rossa. “How sure are you that you have a mole inside the organization? We have already lost too many good people to fuck ups lately.”

“We have ample evidence to suggest that our mark is in fact who we think they are,” Mattia said with a firm tone towards Giovanna; he knew what she was putting down. “They have been under surveillance now for more than three months, and we have solid intel painting up our target.”

“So, we have a good lead on the target then,” Corinna added to the conversation. “Alright, then. Who am I going after and where are they at? The sooner I can get to this piece of shit traitor, the sooner I can be done with this meeting and go my separate way. Sitting with her is painful.”

“Oh, no, I respectfully disagree, you are not going after anyone,” Giovanna retorted, looking dead straight at Suzuki’s eyes. “If anyone in this room is going after the traitor, it will be me, not some hot pants wannabe. Just give the word and I will put a bullet through them.”

“Neither of you will be working this case solo under any circumstances,” Ceasarin replied to the air in front of him, not bothering to look at either Corinna or Giovanna. “The target is far too dangerous to take down alone, and so you will both be working together. It is non-negotiable.”

The utter contempt that rose up inside Giovanna at the mere mention of having to work with Corinna Suzuki nearly made her gag, the acidic taste in her mouth strong enough to almost make her vomit on the spot. This sticky waif, this pedantic, sniveling asshole was the last person in the world she intended to ever work with killing a traitor in their ranks. The nerve of the Fenice Rossa to believe her capable of stomaching her bile long enough to work with human excrement was off the chart. At the same pitiful time, it seemed as though the decision was to be forced upon her from somewhere higher up on the food chain, and no matter her personal feelings on the matter, she was a dutiful soldier of the Evenguard and meant to do her job, no matter how unprofessional her partner may have been. She would just have to resist the urge to put a bullet into her back or a knife into her throat when she turned the other way from her…

“I promise you, despite my strong and deep reservations about the choice of partner for this assignment that I will serve with great honor and distinction,” Corinna spouted off like the little girl scout she was. Her insinuation that Giovanna would bring dishonor to the mission irked her.

“As do I,” Frinzi remarked, suffering the remark to pass for the sake of keeping the visage of holding her composure. “If our superiors believe this is the best course of action, then we will make do with what resources we are provided with and get the job done, no more complaints.”

“You would do well to remember that sort of professionalism on your assignment – your target demands it of you,” Mattia remarked caustically, turning to the final page in the dossier. “Any lapse in judgment on this one and your mark will rip you a new one faster than you can blink.”

With little fanfare, he slowly pushed the dossier on the metal table top towards Corinna, pointing down at the final, red-hued page, what they in the business called ‘the Kill List’. Suzuki looked down at it, her eyes widening as she read the single, solitary name listed. “No, this cannot be…”

“The target has been identified and confirmed,” Ceasarin said with callous indifference to her shock. “We have our orders from Raevenna, the target is to be eliminated with extreme prejudice, no questions asked.” He then moved the dossier across the table towards Giovanna.

Oh, my God in Heaven, no way…

For a moment, it was all Giovanna could do but swallow, trying to force air down her windpipe, the shock of the one name on the Kill List nearly freezing her in place. She looked up and stole a look at Suzuki, who looked as though she had lost all color in her face, going pale as the snow. This could not be accurate, no way, there was some mistake here, right? Surely, this was unprecedented in the history of the program, an assassination order like this. And as her mind came to terms not only with who was on the list, but what it meant for her and the bitch sitting across from her and what they had to do, Giovanna felt her blood run cold. Not only were they going to take down a legend, but one of the most dangerous and calculating assassins that had ever been employed in the history of the Strega Nera or the Fenice Rossa. A man so cold, calculating and ruthless, many people thought he was more machine than man, a demon without a fear.

"Everything you need to know about your assignment is in the dossier," Mattia said as he rose up from the table, leaving the pair of them in their stunned silence to process everything on their own accord. "Good luck to you both; with your combined skills, we know you will succeed."

Giovanna could scarcely move, nor look away from the dossier's Kill List entry. In that one line, her life had become so more complex than she could have ever imagined. She reread the line over and over again, as if to convince her brain that it was real. "This is not possible..."

【ＴＡＲＧＥＴ：　ＣＡＩＬＥＡＮ，　ＪＯＨＮ】

by **Aquilinia** » Thu Jan 12, 2023 4:49 pm

Consul’s Office
Free City of Aquilinia
Aquilinia
09:35 AST

Zoé Metelli wiped the newspaper of her desk. It had only been a month since six Senators of her own party, the Parti Liber Aquili, had defected to form the nationalist Aquilinia Superior, and already they had proven to be plenty of trouble. In yesterday’s session, the AS’ leader, Senator Anna Augusta, had once again demanded that foreign organisations and individuals be barred from purchasing stock in Aquilinian companies. Zoé knew why, of course. Ever since SynTek, a subsidiary of one of the three megacorporations that practically owned the Aquilinian economy, had successfully created a kilogram of pure iron from nothing but rock, the news of what this could mean for the economy had been on everyone’s mind. Although the technology was still in its infancy, and the price to create even that single kilogram had been astronomical, it could mean that Aquilinia could one day be independent from mineral imports from places such as Marquesan and the RE. And, of course, the AS had immediately jumped onto that, completely disregarding that the largest minority shareholder in SynTek was, in fact, the RE’s financial guild.

But the young Consul knew that this was not really about economics. The AS had begun as a splinter faction of the NPP, advocating for Aquilinian self-sufficiency – not a realistic prospect, considering the Aquilinian islands’ lack in natural resources – but it had quickly grown into a gathering place for anyone in the nation that opposed foreign influence on any aspect of life. Only two weeks ago, they had filed a bill calling on the government to restrict Aquilinian citizenship to those born within the country with at least one parent also born there. And even though their motion had been voted down by 204 of the 210 Senators, it had caused significant ripples throughout society.

No, this had to stop, before it got out of hand. Anti-foreign sentiment in the country was beginning to become noticeable, and there was a real danger of it escalating into violence. There had even been incidents where it nearly had. So, the Consul had decided to address the issue in the Senate.

The Senate
Free City of Aquilinia
Aquilinia
13:00 AST

Zoé looked around the chamber, bright blue eyes shining behind her round glasses, her trademark dark teal hair bound in a ponytail.

“Patres conscripti, I speak to you today to address an important issue.” Her voice was heavy with the seriousness of the situation. “Last Saturday, as you all know, members of the crew of a cargo ship from Marquesan taking on cargo in the port of Sylvo was approached by a group of young men wearing black suits and carrying small firearms. Luckily, a patrol of the port Urbani arrived in time to prevent the situation from escalating.”

She paused for a moment, before continuing. “And this has not been the only incident. In all five provinces, as well as the Free City, foreigners have been harassed, some even assaulted, simply for going about their business, as is their right to do. This is a Free State, both in name and literally. Anyone, be they citizen or foreigner, is welcome to come to our islands and make a better life for themselves. It is this openness that has brought us great prosperity, and it is this openness that has allowed our nation to become what it is today. Without investment from the RE, the great minds at SynTek would not have been able to achieve their momentous breakthrough. Without arms from Marquesan, our military would not be as strong as it is. And may I remind you that it is only through trade with other nations that we all have food on our tables every day?”
She shook her head. “There are those in our Senate, and in our society, that believe we do not need others. That we would even be better off without them. Everyone in Aquilinia, of course, is free to hold their own opinion, and express it, peacefully. However, this is not just a difference of opinion. It is a fundamentally flawed view of the world. If international trade to our shores ceased for just a single day, everyone would suffer the consequences. Our nation must remain open, so we can remain free.”

The chamber fell silent for a moment after the Consul finished her speech, before it burst into applause from all sides – all sides except the seats of the AS, of course. As soon as Zoé stepped away from the podium to return to her seat, their leader made her way forward.

Dressed all in black, with her pitch-black hair cut into a short bob, Anna Augusta looked like a movie villain as she took to the podium.
“Patres conscripti, those were wonderful words we just heard from our esteemed Consul, were they not? But do not be fooled, for that is all they are. Words. Every day, more foreigners flock to our islands, to do what? They do not come to trade, as she likes to claim, or to further our freedoms. No, they come here to take away what is rightfully ours. They take the freedom our government so naively offers, and what do they do with it? They corrupt us! They come here and bring their strange customs and their religions with them, and try to force them upon our righteous and upstanding citizens, all while taking jobs meant for hard-working Aquilinians! Consul, it is you whose worldview is flawed! Our great nation can stand on its own, and it should stand on its own! If you want to remain free, as you put it, we need to free ourselves from them! Aquilinia belongs to the Aquilinians, and to none other!”

Augusta’s speech was short, and while the Senators had remained quiet as she spoke, the moment she was done, the chamber once again erupted into noise – but far less appreciative this time, and it only quietened down as the next speaker, representing the more conservative Unio Civili, or Union of Citizens, rose. The UC, while not nearly as bad as the AS, also advocated for stricter migration controls, and their leader, Lucius Marius, was one of the few Senators willing to sit down with the AS to discuss policy. This was going to be yet another long day in the Senate, and once again, tensions would rise before the end of the day.

by **Neo-Western East Korea** » Fri Jan 13, 2023 6:03 am

“Jun’s Sul-jip”, Under-Omiskan
Neo-Korea
Myaku 729 (11:30 P.M)

As she downed another glass of swill, Jang once again looked over the dilapidated bar for her “contact” as the bastards in black had put it.

Lazily moving her eyes over the peeling-off wallpaper (the bullet-ridden walls under it as well), the damaged ceiling (if this place wasn’t already hellish on its own, the industrial waste coming in would have done it), the chipped and gouged table (NO idea what caused that one, frankly), and then the bartender himself, who looked like the platonic ideal of a bastard from the war-days who had fallen on hard times.

As she reclined back slightly in the cheap chair, she noticed a man come through the door.

While she wasn’t used to this spy shit, she could immediately tell they weren’t from Under-Omiskan, or even the city itself.

It was in the way he moved (he didn’t move their feet to check for obstructions common in the more human-livable aspects of the city), the way he failed to disguise his desire to get somewhere (people with a purpose usually got mugged), and a metric fuckload of other issues she could notice because of her long history in this shithole.

Calling him over to her table with a slight wave, he sat down across from her, the briefcase he had brought with him kept safely attached to his arm.

As he stared at her, he finally spoke up with one of those “code-words”.

“How is the Premier doing?”

She knew this was the code-statement because there hadn’t been a premier for 80 years (having been replaced by the Paramount Leader) and as such she responded.

“As well as he’ll ever be”.

The man nodded, detached the briefcase from his arm, and gave it to her, after which she paid her tab and got back to her apartment.

She decided to take a look at the insides, although she was somewhat confused to just discover some Strange Red Dust.

She wasn’t clean exactly (no one around here was), but she didn’t really see why they had done all the spy shit for some slightly differently-colored drugs, considering the availability of the normal versions basically everywhere in the country.

Eh, fuck it, she’d give the stuff a try to see what would happen.

Taking out her (former) Party membership card, she gathered enough of the stuff to feel happy (leaving the briefcase mostly full) and snorted it.

As she felt it enter her systems, she was (for a moment) unimpressed with what had occurred.

Then she realized she could feel the blood of stars in her veins, see the cosmic order collapsing around her, hear something coming through the door-

As she picked up and closed the brief case, she rushed to the intruder, and got to work.

Apartment Complex 620, Under-Omiskan
Neo-Korea
Myaku 916 (4:00 A.M)

As she came to, Jang tried to figure out what the hell had happened.

Checking around her, she noticed there were no bullet holes (good), that she had no wounds (good), that the briefcase was absolutely drenched in blood (bad), and that the desiccated corpse of the building-manager was on the floor (very bad).

Looking at the corpse (which she could only recognize thanks to the badge on his personage, considering his face looked more like a crater at this point), she very distinctly panicked for an hour or so, before eventually composing herself.

Opening the window, she threw the body out and began preparing to leave, to transport the briefcase back to the bastards in black… if that wasn’t made too complex, what with the murder.

by **Neo-Western East Korea** » Mon Feb 27, 2023 6:33 pm

???, Neo-Korea

The thud of his boot crunched softly against the snow, echoing gradually in the air around the facility.

It had been 30 years since he had last seen the accursed place, a relic of a time that was and never would be again, but it seems that the call of necessity had forced his hand once more, and despite his best efforts he had returned to Paektu Mountain, and more specifically……

His sorrow was confirmed when he finally cleared the small wooden marker with a brush of his hand, the snow parting to reveal letters that took him back to a time long past:

Seongso Monastery

Seongso Monastery, Neo-Korea

It had taken an axe, but he had finally breached his way into the structure he had so long ago abandoned, the halls carving in on themselves but remaining disturbingly close to what he recalled.

He shook his head clear of the memories, consulted his map, and began his journey to an old memory.

His axe cut through wood board after wood board, doors and windows being shattered to hasten his path, and it was a mere hour before he reached the highlight of his nightmares, his hand shaking as he slowly opened the door to what had been the site of the first great crime they had committed.

The room was as it had been, the 15 skeletons laying where they had been placed all those decades ago.

Pyoyter walked gently down the stairs, his boots stirring up the minuscule amount of dust that had built up since his last visit, and he made his way to what was the closest thing to a shrine remaining in this place, a small urn full of ash and a photo of the greatest man who had ever existed, the once-shining sun of his life.

Pyoyter lit the four candles of incense he had brought, and reflected.

It had been so long since Mizu was among the living, and yet the ache of watching what he had built be destroyed by interlopers and cowards only weighed more and more heavily by the day.

He stared at the one he could have potentially called more than a friend, and wondered where he had failed him, where he had allowed revisionists and bastards to steal the lifeblood of the realm his comrade had paid his own to establish, where he had failed to crush the fools and oni who had come to crush and trod upon all that should have been and would have been, had Mizu stayed alive.

As he finally stood after long, long hours, he redoubled his promise.

Neo-Korea would be returned to its true path, no matter the consequences.

by **Civia Welephilostopia** » Sat Apr 29, 2023 6:53 am

The Sergant and the Prince:

Our story opens on one predictably rainy night in one predictably old home, on a hill, overlooking a forest, ex-Sergant At Arms Atonius is talking with a man. Antonius thinks the man as nothing extraordinary but the man in question has seen it all. He still humours Antonius however, what's one more story after all.

"Many have heard the story of our great revolution, the way it started, the way it happened... and the way it finished, well, no one ever tells my story, no one even knows how the revolution was almost snuffed out by the hounds of royal tyranny."

"And how was that?"

"It was a bright day in Welephilostopia, remember it like it was yesterday, I was a sergant then, no ordinary sergant too but Sergant D'Imerse. A lot was going on at the time. Grain was expensive and men were starving so they could send their family food, and instead of getting paid they were granted slips of empty promises, that was how the first seeds were sown. Not from the top, but from the bottom."

"And how did it happen?"

"It happened slowly at first, I remember only hearing whispers, then rumours, then... one fateful evening a Corporal told me to meet with him in the old Canteen Kitchen at 2100 hours, it was an odd request but I followed, when I arrived there not only was there the Corporal, but also a Colonel and a few other soldiers whom faces I knew. We all shuffled into the kitchen where others had arrived, the doors were barred and bolted and my first meeting with the SRA began. That was 4 months before it all happened."

"Ahh. And what happened in those 4 months?"

"Much. As I attended each meeting the size of the group only increased and increased, we began to hear word of other groups just like us and a plan was formed. We would wait until the people would openly oppose the Monarchy, then our coup de grace would topple the Monarchy and restore Civia Welephilostopia. That was how the plan started, but then we heard of opposition, there were those who would not join, some in the navy but also a few in the army. It were these 'Burned Men' that we had to silence. We now had a hierarchy with a leader rumoured to be a Fieldmarshall himself, but with that hierarchy came orders. We... we were instructed to 'dispose' of them. I had dealt with enemies before but not plain hearted men. I didn't think I could do it. I didn't in the end, I convinced many not too, but some didn't listen, the privates mainly, too simpe minded with blind fervour to realise the monstrosiy of their action."

"So in the end you did not, but that didn't stop you completely from killing."

"No, I still remember his name, his face, Second Private Peter he was, a face of joyful happiness on off days and serious duty on service days. But, he knew too much, he told me all about the meetings going on, he said he hoped I would report it to a senior officer. I... I... betrayed him, his trust in me and in his friends. He was unofficially executed the following morning. I didn't follow them to where they dug his grave. After that I got a promotion, a promotion with a plaque of blood. That was one and a half months before it happened, the cold autumn air had just arrived."

"But that was not the end of your role in the revolution was it."

"I was now too important to be let go of, we got more orders, build this prepare that, all seemingly rudimentary and meaningless until we became aware of its purpose. The heir of the ruling Monarch was coming to visit our camp and with the deadlocked senate the first embers of revolution were spreading. We all knew what had to be done. That's what we thought at least."

"And what was it you thought had to be done?"

"The beginning of the revolution. We all thought it would start with us. A foolish thought perhaps, made in a more hopeful time of peaceful power transitions and we were wrong. We were prepared, our normal ceremonial rifles had been switched to their service variants and all the exits and entries were monitered. The prince arrived on horseback with a small procession of 1 squad of Mounted Royal Guards. He greeted me and we talkedfor several minutes, the tension was thick and the Royal Guards looked suspicious of everyone and everything. There was a moment in the inspections that I became suspicious myself. Why was the heir to the crown himself guarded only by a poultry force. The pieces began putting themselves together but before the puzzle was complete someone shot the prince. A brawl ensued and we anti-revolutionary forces were beaten out of the camp. We thought it was the beginning. You can imagine our shock when members of the SRA came riding up with a full army to quell or so called uprising. I was then we realised, we were pawns and nothing else, meant to be used as someones proof of loyalty. Needless to say the battle was short."

"And after that?"

"Afterwards we were locked up, we were going to be executed in two weeks time. I don't fully know how but two days before the revolution at last happened. We were pardonned but never commended, and we were forced into silence for the rest of our lives. But now I suppose the circumstances have changed so that I may finally speak the truth. Had the monarchy realised the cause behind our rebellion the revolution would have been purged. I have no doubt."

"Someone who believed in those who brought them their downfall in victory. How cruel."

With those words Death would ask Antonius to lead him to the after life Antonius desired. In death Antonius was at last free.

by **Aureumterra III** » Mon May 08, 2023 6:39 pm

Warning: Graphic Content

30 years ago
Hønsborg, Fønen Island (Yvy Guasu)
Heinrik looked carefully into the building as he turned the corner. His rifle remained pointed forward, carefully and wordless signaling to the rest of his platoon as he moved forward. The room seemed empty, although it clearly wasn’t abandoned. Concrete and rusted iron marked the walls, an ash ridden trash barrel lay in the middle, as if it had been on fire just a few moments ago, and quickly put out. He turned to the rest of his platoon, “It seems they got away. Probably went back to the mountains.”

The platoon commander nodded in agreement. He radioed the rest of the company, “Platoon 8, the old factory is secure. It seems they got away, likely through the rear exit, towards the mountains.”

There was a moment of silence before the Captian’s reply came in, “Copy that, we’ve secured the entire town then. The General will be happy. All that’s left now is to root them out of the mountains, then we’ll finally end these bastards.”

Heinrik lowered his rifle, at ease now that area was secured. It had been a long, grueling campaign over the last year, pushing the Guasu terrorists out of every strategic stronghold they had captured since the start of their insurgency. He wasn’t too ambitious, he came from a rather low ranking family in the Empire. When the war began, a young man seeking glory on the battlefield to make a name for himself was all that he was. He had participated in the main theater of the conflict, the offensive from the South coast pushing the insurgents all the way inland. He had been with his platoon for the better part of six months now, on the move every day, scoring victory after victory. The town of Hønsborg - Yvyra, as they called it - had been one of the last ones they had retreated to.

"We're to keep the area secure until further orders. Break up into patrols and make sure nothing escapes our sight near the perimeter here." The commander told the rest of the platoon, as Heinrik went back down the stairs they had ascended, going back outside to his patrol area. He could smell the residual smoke in the air as he stepped outside the building, the town had just a few hours ago had been the site of a raging battle, the last stand of the Guasu insurgents on the island. Their defeat here meant they had lost the last bit of real territory they held, now all they had were isolated hideouts in the mountains from which they could practically do little. For the men in the forces here, it was a prospect they had been awaiting for a while, to finish their tour and finally return home, decorated and celebrated heroes. It would still be a month or so more just to secure the island entirely, but the end was finally in sight, and for those who had been called upon by the Empire, it felt like a lifetime accomplishment to be a participant in this endeavor.

"Fjoltsson, I’ve been assigned to patrol with you. We’re to take the North loop, going around the residential neighborhoods and the mall, following south near the town center and then back up again." Another platoon member came up to him, his uniform identifying him as A. Nemeth.

Heinrik nodded, "Until…?"

"Until sunset, when we are to settle into camp for the night and the night patrol will take over. This comes straight from the captain." Nemeth finished, turning the other way. "We don’t necessarily have to be together at all times, especially when covering the residential grids, Lord knows that would take ages. We could split up starting the route North of here until we get to the end of the perimeter."

Fjoltsson was a little uneasy at the prospect, but trusted that the company as a whole had managed to clear the entire town of active combatants. He split off from Nemeth, making his way up the assigned streets. Most of the buildings were charred from the weeks-long battle that had besieged the town. Very few residents remained, those who did had long left the active combat zones. With the end of the fighting in this sector, some had returned in the past few days as the battle had begun to wind down and the insurgents were being routed. On both sides of the street were charred residential buildings, some with tops blown off by missile strikes of misplaced artillery, other demolished entirely as collateral during the fighting. Small fires still raged in parts of the town, the smoke from those able to be smelled for miles. The entire scene would be something straight out of a depressing movie, but Fjoltsson had become desensitized to it over his years in the Imperial Army. He had to just cover two blocks here, and that was the end of his perimeter.

As we walked, he was startled to see a child running out. He had gotten used to, unfortunately, seeing such scenes in a warzone, but it was still nonetheless something that continued to bother him. No adults seemed to be nearby, at least any he could see. He quickly put up his rifle and poised his finger just in case there were people that somehow managed to evade the earlier sweeps. He was surprised to see the child run towards him, and quickly backed up, pointing his rifle straight at the child. He appeared to be a young Guasu boy, he held his hands up. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of what appeared to be khakis, seemingly oversized for him.

Fjoltsson kept pointing the rifle at him, "Where are your parents?"

The boy didn’t seem to understand Aureumterran. He tried again in rudimentary Guasu, the soldiers had been instructed in basic words and phrases they may need to use in their time. "Where are your parents?"

The boy looked around, "I don’t know." He said in somewhat broken Aureumterran. Fjoltsson saw his shoulder, injured and bleeding. It seemed to have been a cut, a clean cut as if from some blade. He had no idea how the boy got such a cut, shrapnel wasn’t this clean, nor would an Aureumterran soldier just randomly injure a helpless kid like that - he hoped. However, he was nonetheless concerned. The tragedy of being caught in such a crossfire, he thought to himself. He’d want to get the child to the factory, but doing so would require deviating from the patrol route. He radioed his platoon commander, "I got a kid here, he has a deep cut in his shoulder and he’s bleeding. Guasu, doesn’t seem older than 7 or 8 years old. Should I bring him back to the factory?"

The commander radioed back, "Anyone else around? Any adults, or just the kid?"

"Just the kid." Fjoltsson took his hand gently, easing him back towards the factory.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Affirmative, sir."

There was a short pause before the commander radioed back to him, "Bring him in. Be absolutely sure not a single other rockeater is following you"

"Copy that." Fjoltsson replied before turning to the child, "Follow me." He held his hand as the two made their way carefully back towards the factory. Heinrik didn’t say a word as he led the child back, constantly looking behind his back to make sure no other Guasu were following him or looking at them. The child looked down, avoiding eye contact with Heinrik. It was natural for him, Heinrik thought, to do so.

"Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine." He assured the boy as they approached the factory. Two soldiers standing guard near its entrance opened the warehouse door, as Heinrik led the child into the building. The platoon commander and a group of soldiers stood there, watching as Fjoltsson approached with the boy. The medic quickly took a first aid kit that had been there, and began bandaging the boy’s left shoulder up. A few other men gathered around to see what was happening. They had dealt with many civilians during the course of the counterinsurgency campaign, but seeing a situation like this was a first for them.

The boy, with his other arm, reached down into his khaki pocket at that moment. There appeared to be something there, discreet enough to not have been noticed by anyone until this moment, as Fjoltsson raised his eyebrow spectating from a distance.

All he heard was a faint click. It took a second or so for someone to realize what was happening.

Heinrik realized just in time to dive behind a concrete barrier near the factory entrance. He was the only man on that side of the room, and hence the only one who was fortunate enough to do so. The others were not so much.

A deafening blast was heard, so loud Henrik’s ears were left ringing with a tinnitus even louder than the blast itself. For a moment - one which seemed like forever, as if hours condensed into just a few seconds - he just lay dead still. The shock of the blast itself had shaken him to the core, and he remained completely immobile for an excruciating while. His ears kept ringing as he attempted to bring some semblance of composure back to himself. The blast was powerful, but he had thankfully managed to get far away enough in the warehouse to escape its epicenter of force. He weakly put one arm on the concrete barrier that had saved his life, and pulled himself up in dread to see what the room looked like.

The first thing he noticed, in complete shock as he saw, was the barrier caked in pieces of shrapnel on the side opposite to where he was hiding. It was as if Providence had placed such a barrier, of the exact thickness and material to be able to shield him in this place. After all, the blast of a grenade wasn’t the killer - the shrapnel that stabbed one like a thousand small daggers made the grenade such a lethal weapon in modern warfare. He slowly stood up, dusting himself off, and bringing himself to look at what the room had become.

The scene he saw made his heart stop for a few beats, he immediately got down to his knees in shock. An unrecognizable slew of blood, bodies, even body parts lay in the middle of the room where people had been gathered to see the child being assisted. There was no question about it, he was the only one in the room who had survived. Everyone else, the child of course, the medics, platoon commander, and the fellow comrades he had fought side by side with for the past year, all laying dead and decaying, some of their bodies unrecognizable and mutilated by the ferocity of the blast.

It was just him. The man who had been the entire reason they are all dead. It was all his fault, and yet it was just him who survived. He had brought it upon all of them, and yet… he survived.

Heinrik just lay there on his knees. He was beyond sobbing at this point, his face just had no expression whatsoever. Other soldiers around the area, having heard the blast, came rushing in to investigate. He still didn’t move, laying there with no expression…

by **Alharif** » Sun May 14, 2023 8:47 pm

Cotton Rose
The Story of a Lonely Stranger

He was one of those dogged old men, who lived in the past... telling you stories you don't want to know.

You could tell from looking, he was an ex-Blocist. Those wrinkles that squished all the folds of his face out of place betrayed age and fragility, yet in his eyes a quiet anger nevertheless lingered-- the love for old revolutionary heroes from decades ago, that great passion for socialism, but more than anything the rage - insatiable rage - that it had all failed. That the splitters had betrayed them, the interventionists had shot them, and that the Patriotic Front had shot them again when they tried to regroup. The futility of the modern era, slowly squeezing all the hope out of the old guard as everyone else moved on, left nothing but a burning, incandescent pain in the depths of his soul.

It was a quiet morning in the small hinterland settlement of Ada Ili. The sun burned in the unbearably clear sky as it slowly climbed past the horizon, snow dusted over the empty town square. He sat on the same bench as I, as we both smoked an early cigarette. Our skin shivered in the face of the cold, but our lungs were warm, at least. We both wore thick coats, as usual, though he did not wear the customary marmot-skin hat that shielded one's head from the elements. I felt cold merely looking at his unprotected, bald head. Well, he was an ex-Blocist, so he probably didn't care. These old men (and a few women) never cared about anything. It was kind of their thing, like how a dog's thing was licking its own balls. Though this apathy was genuine, not a faux-nihilistic political statement: they genuinely had lost all hope.

There were three kinds of Blocists in Alharif, of three different shades on the Communism-O-Meter. The first wave of the 'Popular Bloc' had been a dark, bloody crimson, as it were. Militant communists to the core, who'd read the lit' and done the shit. They'd been around in the Civil War, 1980 to 1981, when the junta collapsed and religious nutters, nationalists, and communists all scrambled to seize what they could. In the end, the Bloc nearly won-- then the loathed foreign interventionists had come along and shot them all, setting up the Alharifi Free State. Of course, none of the powers who set up the Free State actually had common ground, nor a shared plan for Alharif, beyond simple anti-Communist sentiment. So it collapsed, and the Patriotic Front took power instead.

So then came the second wave of Blocists, who were more of a paler red. They wanted Communism alright, just not quite enough to pick up guns for it. So they basically sat in the Congress of the new Republic, enjoying the bounties of the Fatherland's new democracy, effectively blocking anything the Front wanted to do. Eventually the Front had enough of them, so they all got shot again. So that left us with the modern third wave, who were naught but the softest of pink; in effect, a Big Tent of people who just flat-out didn't like the Front.

It was safe to say that this old man was not of the third or second waves; he was die hard crimson, and, once upon a time, was probably proud of that fact. You didn't find many of the first Blocists, considering how many times they got shot. He was a rarity. So, I did something ill-advised, and asked him about the Bloc. "The real Bloc." I specified.

An eyebrow was raised, eyes darting from side to side. "Are you a policeman?" He took a closer look at me, at my boyish face and curious gaze, and huffed. "Never mind. They don't let simpletons into the force." Before I could object, a cascade of revolutionary spittle then poured from his lips, ranting and raving. I barely understood anything through the vitriol-- 'splitters!', 'revisionaries!', and 'fascists!' featured a lot. In the end, he tired his old heart out, his voice growing somber and tired. "We were just young men, looking for a purpose, a cause." He coughed. "We found it, in those old books and meetings. Marx, Lenin, ol-Hidi..." he chuckled. "We knew what it meant to be doing something. This wasn't a hobby. We knew that the moment we picked up guns for it, and swore to fight and die for it."

"But you didn't die." I pointed out. Immediately, I regretted my decision, as his eyes steeled.

"If only I had." A low grumble. "The real heroes were the ones who were shot. For all the good being shot ever did us." He looked into my eyes. His gaze was piercing, never once breaking eye contact. "Boys like you have nothing to believe in. All the actual, honest-to-god beliefs were stamped into the ground and set on fire, then their graves buried in salt. I watched it happen. The world will always be the same from now on."

I didn't really have much to say to that. I tried to scrape together the words. "If there's nothing at all to believe in, why bother?"

"Because we have to!" He roared, energy returning to his form with gusto. "You have to! I don't care what you believe in, do something!"

"Well-" I sighed. "I'm in the Bloc. I'm doing something."

"You aren't in the fucking Bloc," the man growled, "you're with a bunch of hobbyists fighting for one faction of bourgeois nationalists against another faction of bourgeois nationalists. This is scientific socialism, son, not a game of pretend where we sit down and pretend to be friends! Fuck the Republic! The real Popular Bloc died in '81, because the people in it died. Heroes! I fought with them, I killed with them, and I watched them die! Keep their names out of your mouth." We both dropped quiet after that, as I realised what I'd already known-- this man didn't want anything anymore. All the desire had been carved out his heart, and in its place he could only rant at children on the street.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I murmured, as I dropped my cigarette to the ground and got up to leave. I looked at him, expecting a reply... anything. Eventually, I got one.

"I am too."

by **Sombreland** » Wed Jun 14, 2023 6:38 pm

It came to be in Sombreland that the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, found that her pet hyrax who was named Rolfe, had become ill. And so the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, summoned her chief Lady-in-Waiting, Uwanda, the Lady-Countess Carnelian, who requested that the Royal Veterinarian should examine the poor creature. And so the Royal Veterinarian examined the hyrax, Rolfe, and looked at his nestings, and his food, and his droppings, and declared as follows:

"Hyraxes are social animals, you know, and they don’t like to be alone, It should be illegal for pet owners to have just a single hyrax. In fact, there’s a whole bunch of rules we should make to enhance the psychological wellbeing of domestic pets. I’ve a list back at my place, if you want to pop over this evening, look it over, maybe share a fondue...”

The Lady-Countess Carnelian politely recoiled at this inappropriate flirtation, but also took the advice well in hand.

She did impart the advice, and advice was also offered by Prince Chasin de Cressa, who was one of the Princess-Regent's suitors and cousins.

'“It’s unfair to pile cost burdens on those of lower caste who can’t afford a second pet. An owner can give all the affection a pet needs. Though of course, it’d be nice if the state could pick up the bill for pet psychiatry." he adjusted the little tiara on his hyrax and its little tiny tutu as he spoke soothingly to it as it lay on its velvet cushion.

“Pet psychiatrists, what next? There is already too much government encroachment upon ordinary life," argued the elderly Chancellor, Grand Duke Pofolman. “The Director of Information will be appearing on the National Nightly News tonight to talk about budgets or something or other; why don’t you use a minute of that to tell people that hyraxes need companions? Quick, to the point, and most importantly, at no cost to the taxpayer.”

"Or...they could simply die," offered Prince Orian de Cressa, the Princess-Regent, Alavaine's other suitor and cousin. "After all, they are merely animals. If they are not harmonious enough with their owners then the relationship was probably not good enough in the first place."

"Just like that poor squirrel you killed when you were ten?" cried the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, her beautiful eyes widening and sorrow dampening her lovely features. "Never! No, I agree with cousin Chasin; we must provide not merely for darling Rolfe, but for so many other dear hyraxes, turtles, kittens and other creatures who are sad in our Kingdom!"

And this new government expenditure caused the Cult of Thon to grumble...

by **Neo-Western East Korea** » Tue Jul 04, 2023 6:34 pm

Central Military Planning Headquarters, Omiskan, Neo-Korea

Myaku 375 (3:00 P.M), July 5th

The hall was as he remembered it, in broad strokes.

The doors still laid closed, stalwart in construction, there remained the soft hum of artificial lighting, buzzing endlessly in preparation, there remained by his side a subordinate walking with him, though of a very different nature to his last.

And yet, as the cane he held tapped the ground with some level of weariness behind its constant strikes, as the images upon the walls were of conflicts he had participated in (and the War overall) and as his granddaughter (his technical subordinate) stood by his side instead of that old bastard he had originally been forced with, he felt as if much more had changed than he had realized when he got the letter.

As he came more properly to the door, it opened gently, revealing the similarly wizened form of “the old bastard” himself: Alextrumvov Karbenit.

Grasping his once-compatriot’s forearm in a simple gesture of greeting, he released it and made his way over to the couch alongside his grand-daughter and the bastard, sitting as soon as they both had as well and gently placing his cane in a position to lean upon the side of the couch.

With a soft voice, softer than he had noticed himself speaking in recent years, he engaged in the time-old tradition of complaining.

Hisao Mikami

“I don’t suppose you’ve an explanation for why you’ve dragged this poor old man out of his well-deserved reserve posting?”

A chuckle left his lips (and the lips of his friend) before said friend finally spoke himself.

Alextrumvov Karbenit

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Before I say it though, I need you to promise that nothing leaves this room.”

Hisao Mikami

While he was somewhat shocked at the suddenness, he had done more for his friend in the past, and as such (after signaling such to his granddaughter) he spoke.

“Of course I will, Alextrumvov.”

Alextrumvov Karbenit

“The Kaskaidan President is about to meet a… rather unfortunate end, soon.”

“As you may know, their own weak-nationalisms aren’t exactly unpopular of in that area, and with the booster shot it’ll get it’s been predicted that they’re going to capitulate to those forces and prepare for a war against our Allies in the area, more importantly: they’ll likely target Far Island.”

“You’re one of the few who came back from the mess in Ashilosa, and one of the even fewer judged loyal enough to keep your position.”

“Personally: you’re the only person I trust for one task: we need to be seen assisting our allies in that war or else we won’t get anything in the aftermath. I want you to lead a formation to assist our Anagonian comrades when the time comes.”

Hisao stared in something approaching shock.

He has never heard his friend seem so desperate in regards to asking for his support, and his desired variant of such for this go-around was even more shocking.

Despite his best efforts to jokingly deny such, he was indeed elderly. His body broke more and more with each passing year, and he wasn’t entirely sure the same wasn’t happening with his memories, now.

While he remembered every step he took in that forsaken land, and though he knew the most of the current military elite of the complications of bringing their forces to bear within the great jungles… it still shocked him for long enough that Alextrumvov began to carry a worried face, the expression finally reminding him to speak.

Hisao Mikami

“Alextrumvov, you………”

He finally made up his mind.

“I cannot say that I am in my prime anymore. I cannot say that I am as in-tune with the modern day as I would like. I cannot even say I am in a position to use the influence this will gain me, but……”

“But… in my heart still pounds the blood of the man that fought in that land, so far away from our own.”

“You shall have your general, old friend.”

They clasped hands once more, and began speaking of what could be and what would be, of forces to be dedicated and plans to be made.

All the while in the corner sat a younger woman, who recorded all she could mentally, so she may succeed her only remaining family when the time came.

by **New Azura** » Wed Jul 12, 2023 1:25 pm

The Exeuctive Office Complex, Raevenna, Evenguard of Azura, Esvanovia
Office of the Defense Minister of the National Congregation of Azura

The principals were largely out of place, and it weighed heavily on the mind of Sansone Di Traglia, the Defense Minister of the Evenguard of Azura. In his three years of service in the appointment, the Azuran Evenguard had only been forced into combat operations once, at the tail end of the War in North America against the Masculinists when things were largely settled. Not a drop of blood had been spilt by the Azurans in that campaign, and Sansone was all the happier for it. Now, though, things were once again turning for the worst, and he was feeling the pressure weigh in on his shoulders once more. Except this time, there may be no stopping the situation from escalating to a full-on shooting war that got the Children of Azura killed this time. The moment was fast approaching when Di Traglia would be forced to make decisions that would put people in the line of fire, and he was aloof with fear that he was not up to the task at hand.

And so he stewed on the feelings within him as he waited for the ‘Group of Three’ to arrive at his office. Ever since he had gotten the call from the First Governess to convene the joint chiefs, things had been moving at a hectic, blistering pace. The information was still being disseminated down the chain of command, everyone ramping up for what looked to be a more serious encounter than in the instance of the War in North America. No, this time was different; there was a palpable chill in the air in Raevenna as the bureaucratic wheels began to turn, phone calls being lobbied across the city as the people in the corridors of power got to work. The International Coalition of Nations was facing down multiple threats at the most inopportune of times, and it had fallen on the Evenguard to help shore up the eastern flank of operations in Esvanovia. What remained to be seen was just how far the crisis would spiral in the coming days.

Sansone looked at the clock on the wall of his office for the thirteenth time in as many minutes, waiting for the accompaniment of the joint chiefs to arrive. With Imperator Nicola in Port Sistine for the defense conference going on in Meridon, Grand Admiral Michael Passarelli of the Azure Navy would be taking point along with General Leonardo Borruso of the Azure Air Force and Imperator Nazzareno Laurenzi of the Azure Night Guard. He had met all three individually over the years, and was most impressed with their work of course, but it was going to be a different animal processing orders from on high towards them. Passarelli in particular was a crusty sea dog, having worked his way up through the ranks the hard way during his illustrious career, and he was not one to be trifled with. Borruso was a courteous and complimentary military commander, inoffensive as he was. Only Nazzareno Laurenzi was something of an enigma to him.

Even as he thought it, a knock on the door alerted him to the punctual arrival of the joint chiefs. The door opened slowly, deliberately as Grand Admiral Passarelli entered, flanked by Borruso and Laurenzi. Passarelli was dressed in his class A uniform, prepared to represent his office with the stature it so deserved, as was Borruso. By comparison, Nazzareno Laurenzi had come in a business suit, crisply tailored to his large, muscular frame. His peppery gray hair shone brightly under the fluorescent lighting of Sansone’s cramped office in the halls of the National Congregation. Borruso was a shorter, pudgier man, having rode a desk for far more time than either of his counterparts. His thinning hair and glasses gave him the look of a desk jockey rather than a military commander. Passarelli meanwhile looked like an ancient god in his dress uniform, cutting a dashing figure that put Laurenzi and especially Borruso to utter shame.

“Gentlemen, please come in; have a seat,” Sansone remarked, standing from his cluttered desk as the three military commanders entered the room. “Thank you for coming.”

“Live forever, honored Defense Minister,” Grand Admiral Passarelli saluted in the conventional greeting, causing Sansone to awkwardly salute him back (he was so not used to this still). “We are at your service.”

Di Traglia nodded, again motioning for the three of them to take a seat in the chairs carefully provided for them. “I assume you know why you are here today?”

“A general mobilization order, most probably,” Passarelli said bluntly, speaking for the joint chiefs.

“You would be correct, sir,” Sansone obliged him. “Roughly forty-five minutes ago, I received a call from the First Governess at the defense conference in Port Sistine. New intelligence has presented itself that has confirmed our own intelligence apparatus’ work over the past month. The International Coalition of Nations is facing down multiple threats right now, and the First Governess has ordered me to order you to put our combat forces on alert.”

“What’s the situation on the ground as we know it?” General Borruso remarked, deep thoughts racing through his mind as his eyes darted towards the map on the back wall of Di Traglia’s office.

“It is still unfolding at present, but here is what we know for sure,” Sansone replied, standing up once again from his desk to turn and motion towards the map Borruso was eyeing. “We have received actionable intelligence that the Kaskaidan Union, or some bad actors within the Union are moving weapons into Ashilosa, threatening to destabilize the Confederate States of Anagonia. As if that were not enough, in the east the Aureumterrans are threatening to make a push on the Kingdom of Sombreland, our allies in the International Coalition of Nations. They may be looking to exploit Sombreland’s natural resources for their own.”

The three joint chiefs looked at one another cautiously, the two-front scenario something that they had dreaded internally for some time since the Evenguard moved to become a member of the International Coalition of Nations. It was Imperator Laurenzi of the Night Guard that spoke up first: “two separate conflicts spread out across the whole of Esvanovia is a tough ask of our military forces. We can do it, but we would have to draw down on every available resource in our arsenal.”

“We have conferred with our allies in ICON in Port Sistine, and have come to an informal resolution that would ease those concerns somewhat,” Sansone answered the Imperator. “While we will be gaming out scenarios that commit naval and air forces in support of the Anagonians, it has been decided that the Federal Republic of Meridon will join the Neo-Koreans in the primary support of Ashilosa. The Evenguard has been asked to take the lead in the defense of Sombreland in the east, which we are now preparing our resources to accomplish.”

Passarelli shot a glance of concern towards Borruso and Laurenzi, then re-focused his attention on Di Traglia. "This is going to be a tall order, even if we are focusing primarily on the eastern front. Sombreland's military resources to be brought to bear for its defense are liminted in quantity, though its quality is outstanding. Even so, off the top of my head, I would wager that the Aureumterrans outgun the Sombrelanders by a factor of at least nine-to-one."

"Eleven-to-one," Sansone coldly replied, the immensity of the task at hand beginning to set in. "From our own internal estimates, without support from the International Coalition of Nations, Sombreland would have roughly seventy-two to ninety-six hours before the Aureumterrans moved through their countryside and occupied most key civilian and military infrastructure."

Passarelli did not blink. “So the Azurans are going to defend the Sombrelanders where their own internal resources fail.”

“I would not put it quite so bluntly as that,” Di Traglia bemoaned the pessimistic brutalism of the Grand Admiral. “But essentially, yes. The Sombrelanders are outgunned, and we will be moving in to help them should the worst come to worst and the Aureumterrans invade.”

The Imperator of the Azure Night Guard, Nazzareno Laurenzi spoke up finally, his voice cold and dripping with venom. “We will slay all enemies of the Evenguard and her allies, be it Aureumterran or Kaskaidan. There will be nothing left but sackcloth and ashes for the victims of our wrath.”

Borruso and Passarelli both shot awkward looks towards the verbose Laurenzi, who sat their stoically in his business suit. Di Traglia was more than a bit intimidated by the poetic-waxing Laurenzi, so he instead directed the conversation back towards Grand Admiral Passarelli. “We know you have gamed up scenarios for this level of defensive posture, and we know that there will be more time needed to game out an official battle doctrine for the potential hostilities-to-come. What can you tell me now about your immediate plans though?”

Grand Admiral Passarelli nodded, looking up at the map. “Any type of major deployment north to Sombreland would require a big logistical effort. We are talking naval formations, bomber and volor squadrons, and troops through our rail corridor in Nachmere to the Inner Sea. Given the numerical advantage that the Aureumterrans will bring to bear on the Sombrelanders in the event of a war, we would be looking at mustering at least two Visbellums for their defense. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 800,000 to 1,000,000 boots on the ground, not counting our air, naval and special forces components.”

“It would be the biggest Azuran deployment of men and materiel since the Lorist Revolution,” Borruso replied, looking towards the southern part of Aureumterra on the map. “Our port facilities at San Nicola would have to be evacuated by the Azure Navy first and foremost, lest the Aureumterrans bring forces to bear down on San Nicola in retaliation for our support of the Sombrelanders.”

“The First Governess has already begun to get the ball rolling in the National Congregation, so we have a leg up on the political machinations at least,” Di Traglia responded, looking towards the map. “Assuming we could launch a naval evacuation of San Nicola, would our fleet then be able to support the Sombrelanders from the Inner Sea effectively?”

“That would be our primary avenue of attack,” Michael remarked, studying the Defense Minister as he spoke. “Our volor squadrons would need naval support anyhow, so combining the air and naval fleets in the Inner Sea would make sense. A longer voyage than going up through the northeast passage, but still workable.”

Di Traglia brought the point home succinctly. “How long would it take to prepare a full mobilization of our armed forces?”

The Grand Admiral turned towards General Borruso, motioning for him to give an estimate. The otherwise-pudgy Borruso obliged him in quick succession. “If we implement a crash course mobilization, about two weeks. Of course, this would be a pertinent time to point out that having Azuran troops on the ground in Sombreland before Aureumterra invades would be more beneficial than slogging through enemy-controlled territory as soon as we land.”

“You worry about gaming up a battle plan,” Sansone replied. “Let me worry about the politics.”

by **Neo-Western East Korea** » Wed Jul 12, 2023 1:39 pm

Beom Dae Tower, Neo-Korea
145 Myaku (8:30 P.M), June 12th, 2033

Beom Dae Tower. Home and operating location of the Paramount Leader since it’s construction in 1998, the largest man-man structure in Omiskan and Neo-Korea as a whole.

It has become the metaphorical heart of the administration in modern days, the once almost-empty due to its irrelevancy CGC structure favored by Frylov being overtaken as soon as the body was empowered in wake of his death, leading the new Paramount Leader to seek a different option.
The Tower was the first and greatest example of Beom’s architectural changes in the wake of his true coming to power, becoming iconic of the blending of Nationalist Classicism with one of his more understated obsessions: Neon, that would gain the somewhat affectionate name of Beomist Architecture within Neo-Korea.

It was, of course, not as affectionately regarded by the small council gathered here in the morning, their forcible awakening rendering their opinions towards the current location quite unpositive as they took sips of coffee to try and awaken themselves quicker.

This negativity additionally targeted the gatherer of this council, the Paramount Leader himself, as he sat at the head of the long table they had gathered at, likely having followed his usual routine of awakening at 3:30 and performing the common bureaucracy he deemed important enough to be handled by his hand alone, much of which likely covered the institution of the architectural style named after himself within even the most rural areas.

As the clock finally ticked to 8:40, the official meeting time for this post, the Paramount Leader spoke for the first time since the gathering of these figures.

Beom Dae

“Salutations, everyone”

The grouping around him immediately became more stiff, his good mood being unprecedented amongst the council, unseen since his earliest days in politics.

“I am distinctly pleased to announce that, with the Northern Army’s transfer to Anagonian territory accepted by those involved, we are now in a perfect position to avenge the failure of the Solara idea more than 80 years ago, 83 to be exact.”

“I have called you all here to gather the information necessary for our soon to be active war effort in the region of Kaskaida.”

“Pyoyter, you may begin.”

Pyoyter himself, still on edge from the suddenness of this swing towards positivity, took a minute to gather himself before responding.

Pyoyter Nakiovich

“Khm-“

He coughed before finally going on.

“Our agents within the country are presumably targeting the president as we speak, alongside a successful retrieval of information relating to the Target.”

He paused for a moment to think some more.

“We’ve begun preparing the trainees for occupation duties via usage of the veterans from Jungg’o, although we’ll have to wait for the conflict to start to see how effective such has been.”

Beom nodded before turning to Alextrumvov with a slight tilt of the head, forcing the old general to speak as well.

Alextrumvov Karbenit

Alextrumvov was marginally more prepared than Pyoyter, and as such moved into reciting what he knew at a quick pace.

“The Hokubushū-gun is about as prepared as it can be, and should be at the border with Kaskaida within the next few days. It has enough ammunition to last it 5 months at estimated material attrition rates. The aerial detachment has a presumed 2 months of ammunition, although we lack an entirely accurate rate of attrition, owing to Iseri finally dedicating the under-the-mountain forces to their first real combat mission.”

“The Hokubushū-gun is generally in good morale as well.”

“In regards to the navy we’ve moved Counter to the sea around Aureumterra in the event they go too deep into Sombreland, although we don’t have any boots to spare for assisting in ground combat itself.”

“We can hypothetically dedicate a small air grouping but… not sure if we have the time.”

He paused for one more moment, perhaps to think, perhaps otherwise, but was swiftly cut off by Beom once again.

”Muraoka, anything upon the civilian end?”

Beom’s good mood remained, to the shock of all involved, and as such Muraoka took his sweet time to make a response.

Muraoka Shig

“Despite the best efforts of our military, the fuel reserves we’ve been expanding since Jungg’o should ensure that all material transport is capable of functioning for 3 calendar years.”

“In addition…”

He drummed his fingers on the table.

“Outside of plants 34 and 36, our ammunition production remains capable of fueling the army presuming we are capable of moving said resources over to them.”

Beom ignored the comments on 34 and 36, and moved to Shigeki, to Terenti, to the others in turn.

Everything was in place.

by **Neo-Western East Korea** » Wed Aug 02, 2023 5:30 pm

Under-Omiskan, Neo-Korea.

83 Myaku (7:00 PM), August 2nd, 2033.

The flames of the cigarette flickered gently as she walked. Her boots gently tapped the corroded stone that passed for a road in the depths of the city, cracked and desolate as it was. In a holster at her side, though it was hidden by the long coat she wore, rested an example of the greatest tool ever made by the deranged creatures that had spread so far across this earth, and hidden beneath her eyepatch rested a tool only used by a small subsection of those creatures, cloaked like the rest of her face in the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat she wore. Her walk purposely configured to look aimless, like she wandered without purpose, a sure fire way to disguise herself from the leeches that moved towards anyone who showed the opposite- there was no room for such here.

Walking ever onwards as the cinders of her cancerstick burned like the neon that dotted the hellscape she had lived in, however unwillingly, for the entirety of her life, she almost wished for a moment that she could simply lie down and be done with it all- before squashing that thought with the ruthless determination of one who had, contrary to all others in this place, something to work towards, to live for. She had clinged onto such for so long now, only a bit further to go.

Her contemplations had finally brought her to the location, and her face, still cloaked in shadow, grinned as she went around the side (or, what could be considered such in the interconnected labyrinth of buildings), finding an employee sitting outside, enjoying their own cancer stick- or, well, having been enjoying, as she moved in an instant, crossing the small gap between them and slamming his head against the metal divider between the concrete-structure she sought entrance to and what was either a house or another such building-not that it was relevant, for either would have grown long used to the sound of violence in such a far-away area from those that the military projected power within.

She opened the door after seizing the keys from the fellow, gently opening it to prevent excess noise as she raised her revolver to enter the building- this first room was empty, it seemed, but the rest very likely wouldn’t be.

Moving with haste she moved through the next door, finally coming into contact with one of the guards she had been expecting-their patchwork bodyarmour marking them as mercs, and on the cheap as well- perhaps even gang-hired if her target was desperate enough.

It wasn’t enough to stop her, of course, slamming the reinforced handle of her firearm into his throat before choking him out having the desired effect of not alerting anyone down the long hallway-for now at least, as she carried on.

She had the rough location of who she sought, but she wanted to cover her bases first, creeping through the halls with her firearm up-finally in a position to see usage as she crossed the corner and saw a guard far-enough away that she couldn’t silence him without it.

With practiced precision, she raised it up.

Her fingers pulled on the trigger-

Bang, went the gun.

His body slumped down, the hole in his throat larger than the one she presumed was in his brain, to have brought no neck protection (not that it would have stopped her, but still), which cemented her opinion of them as the lower-use gangers she has suspected them to be. Moving onwards with few encounters, the majority of the guards having handled themselves into a drunken stupor, she came to the room containing her target: a briefcase.

Picking it up, she walked out of the building with no real hassle, and moved onto the drop-off point, depositing it and leaving posthaste.

It was time to go home.

187 Myaku (9:30 P.M), August 2nd 2033.

The jingle of the locks alerted the apartment’s only current inhabitant to the arrival of its only other inhabitant, a short jaunt taking her to a position to assist in the removal of those many, many locks.

Her sister entered the door, still wearing that eyepatch she had gotten a few weeks ago, and looking as if she could collapse right now onto the small couch that variably acted as the bed for either herself or her older sister depending upon the day.

What drew her eye aside from her state was the bag of… actual groceries that she held in her hand.
They looked fresh, even, a great surprise and one that would act as a boon for the cooking she would have to do for the week.

She looked up at her sister, perhaps to ask a question, but her counterpart simply rose a finger to her lips, set the bag down, and slammed down upon the couch.

She sighed. This was going to take a while to sort on-her-own.

by **Motoyasu** » Mon Aug 14, 2023 3:59 pm

Yurigahama, 1 April 2023

Mayu Saito, now 25, moved up all the way from her family's little farm to the city of Yurigahama the capital and bustling busy port city of Motoyasu. Not a bad place uptown either, a dorm style apartment block provided by the hospital she worked for. Honestly nice, a short walk to work and not as bad as some parts of the downtown city that were known for crime or even just flooding. Ah something she really didn't miss about home, the horrible flooding during heavy storms or typhoons. Her alarm woke her first thing in the morning. The one downside, her lovey dovey relationship with senpai, didn't turn out so well. Honestly she nearly quit the profession and headed back home after it but from the chief Nurse put a lot into perspective for her and here she was. Besides, she and Uta were still friends now and good co-workers together. Plenty of girls in Yurigahama right?

"Good morning, Yurigahama!" The radio DJ "You're listening to Miyakajima-san in the Morning! This bright beautiful sunny and 30 Degree Morning with that ever loving oppressively high 68% humidity! Us gals have a lot to do to to keep our hair perfect."

"I'll say." Mayu muttered washing her face first then applying her makeup. Her uniform would be changed into when she got to the hospital so for now it was denim shorts, a tank top and an oversized shirt. Fashion style set by the trendy fashion model Inugami-chan. "Senpai..." She thought about Uta a moment, maybe she could walk to work with her this morning. They worked in different departments, her senpai working as a surgical nurse with Mayu in Internal Medicine. "No she's on night shift." Mayu shook her head a bit disappointed. Grabbing her phone, purse and apartment keys out the door she went. Bidding a good morning to any neighbors who were coming to and from. The uneventful morning walk ending at the hospital where she changed and got set for the work, a white nurses uniform complete with cap. Pretty old fashioned when most of the world had moved onto scrubs for doctors and nurses alike but Motoyasu was still an old fashioned place in many ways, even more when you got out of the city. Once dressed she made way up to the third floor, internal medicine ward, still a little early before morning reports were to begin. It was a good chance to at least read some of the written reports by the other night shift nurses. "Good morning." Another young nurse, Hikaru, a nurse Mayu's age entered the staff room.

"Morning." Mayu wished

Another nurse, Kaorin entered, "Morning. Chief here yet?"

"Not yet," Nurse number three, Yasuko responded, "I heard she's talking with The Head Nurse about something"

"Hope she's not in trouble" Mayu said a bit concerned. The Chief was strict, a bit of a hard ass at times but nonetheless all the women of the ward really respected her and looked up to her. She always pushed them to do their best and she had a way of knowing when to be strict and give some tough love and when to be sympathetic like an older sister who can comfort you when you need it.

"Chief? Ha, no way!" Hikaru snickered as she thumbed through the evening reports, "Not her who is super straight laced and by the book. Probably new patients that require special attention or maybe new hires. Hey, new hires means some of us will get precepts. That means you too, Mayu-chan, might become a preceptor"

"Our little country girl is growing up" Yasuko cooed at the thought. Most of the other gals were a few years older with already a few years experience on Mayuso they often still treated her like the rookie of the bunch. And all the nurses in the ward were city girls so Mayu often was called country girl plenty.

"C'mon I've been here three years now, think I'm more than a little grown up." Mayu chuckled. "I traded my overalls and waders for a nurse gown."

"Ahem." The girls all snapped to attention when the Chief, Chikane Matsumoto entered trailing with her indeed as a new nurse, a first year named Shi Shi, a recent nursing school grad and now ready to start her first full day on the job, (technically her second but the first day was mostly paperwork and a brief tour) and the night nurses.

"Good morning." Chief Matsumoto wished everyone.

"Morning Chief" They all wished back.

"First of all, I'd like to review the Night Nurse's notes. Kaname-san, if you'd please." She looked to a night nurse, Kiri Kaname.

"Yes, Chief." Kaname said, and continued, "to begin with the checks on rooms...." It was a series of this and thats. Patients through the ward with conditions and how their status was through the night. some sleepless and restless, others just fine, no major incidents which was always delightful to hear when "And finally Wakamoto-san's vitals did take a momentary dip with her vitals but she stabilized quickly. Doctor advises to have her remain on bed rest for the day and to avoid long trips around the ward. She will have access to a portable toilet in her room today. Tomorrow with a proper escort she can use the regular toilets."

"Thank you, Kaname. Now we also have a brand new nurse with us, she's starting today. Shi Shi."

The other nurses giggled and cooed a bit at her cute name.

"Th-Thank you, Chief! Uh I'm Shi Shi from West Nara Region. I just graduated from Teito Nursing School and I'm very much excited to work with you!"

"We're looking forward the same" The other nurses replied

"Saito-san" Chief Addressed Mayu, "She'll be needing a preceptor. Right now you have the lighter duties of the daytime nurses, you think you can handle that?"

"yes ma'am!"

"Good. Shi-san? Nurse Saito here will be your preceptor. Follow her guidance and become a good nurse. If you need anything else, don't hestiate to ask me or any of your other nurses here."

"Yes ma'am! I'm looking forward to working with you, Saito-san."

"And I with you, Shi-san. First thing is first, I'm going to start on rounds. You shadow me and observe me and you'll pick up all you need to know in no time!" she handed Shi a notepad and pen "Important thing to do, is take through and detailed notes when you can. Sometimes we can't always because we need our hands free but if you can, keep a small notepad in your apron pockets. This morning, I'm in charge of the children's room. You like kids?"

"Oh well yeah I do! I got several little brothers and sisters back home. Though I'm a middle child. Though guess you don't really care huh? Sorry."

"No I really don't mind! That's why I ask. I mean we're gonna work together and I'm going to train you, I want to know a bit about you too. You'll get some nurses like the Chief who try to keep their personal lives all separate but I think we Nurses aren't machines and need to be warm and open with each other and our patients I don't have younger siblings, well I do but they were born when I went off to college. But when I was still at home, I had a couple of little cousins I used to help take care of. Grew up on a farm in Southern Heisei region. A wild land farm, believe me you really gotta take care of one another out there if you're gonna farm. The storms are vicious down there, it floods constantly and that's just without mentioning typhoons. Frankly, nursing has nothing on it."

"Wow you sound really tough, Saito-san! I guess being a farmer really does prepare you for something like this!"

"Hehe thanks, I guess so. Anyway here we are." She slid open the door "Good morning everyone! You know the routine, first temperature checks. Also this is my new trainee, please be kind to her"

"Kaaay"

"Okay, Shi, why don't you start on pretty basic stuff. BP, Temps, and chart. I'll take care of injections and any IV checks. Oh pay a little extra care towards Asada-san there. She's a recent admission and she's still nervous about being in a hospital."

"Ah right! Okay. Let's see, good morning Amashima-san. I'm here to take your temperature"

"Is it one of those kinds ya have to shove up my butt?" Some of the children giggled as the little girl recoiled in fear.

"Hehe no no, it's just a digital one that I roll right over your head. Just hold still okay?"

"Kaaay" As Shi tended to the little girl Mayu went over to a little boy with a smile "Good morning, Hatsumoto-kun" Mayu spoke a little boy "How are you feeling this morning?" She read a report saying he had trouble sleeping due to a stomach ace.

"Mmmm" he shook his head

"Aww bad when you can't sleep huh? But seems the night nurse on duty gave you a good sedative. That's a medicine." She explained when he gave a puzzled look at the word sedative. "Well breakfast will be here in just a moment so why don't you see if you can eat. If you still feel sick, I'll get your doctor to come see you."

"Thank you, nurse."

Another little boy crept up behind Mayu lifting up her dress "I see your panties!"

"Sho-kun, you little devil. back into bed with you!"

"Hehe they're very energetic for being in a hospital." Shi giggled

Another pair of nurses pushing a cart with IV bags entered. "Indeed. They're cooped up and there isn't a lot of recreation. Oh sorry, I'm Naoko Arakari. Didn't really get a chance to introduce myself to you."

"Uh Shi Shi. Yeah my name is silly I know, first name and last name the same, my mama was a little doped out when she had me and named me."

"Hahaha I hear ya. My mama works as a Maternity Nurse for Ongaku Medical so she's told me plenty of stories of mothers who tried to go for the natural birth but caved to having drugs and the effects it had on them."

"I'm Kiri Kaname."

"Oh you read this morning's reports. Are you a night nurse?"

"Swing shifts. Actually pulling a little overtime right now so I can go on a vacation overseas somewhere."

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little but I took a long nap break about two hours ago so I'm fine for now. Nurses take nap breaks on night duty you'll learn when you take on your first Nacht. Saito-san, we ran the bag checks. Sorry we're so late, we had a small mix-up but it's all resolved. Chief singed off on it too so you can go ahead."

"Thanks you two." She looked at her watch "mmm sorry Shi-chan I'd like to walk you through proper bag checks but it'll have to wait until next time, we're starting to get behind. At least watch me as I make the infusion with the needle and adjust the drip speeds."

"Mmmm I hate needles!" A small girl whined and winced at the idea while curling into a ball

"I know you do, Ki-chan but it's important you get your medicine this way. You're always a brave girl for everything else can't you be with the IV pretty please?"

She shook her head defiantly.

"Ki-chaaan." Shi put on a cute happy cartoon voice with a toy bear "It's me, Kuma-saaan!"

"Kuuuma-saaaaan. I'm scared and I don't want the needled."

"so so scawwy I know. You know when I was little and I had to get shots and it always made me feel soo sad. Does it make you feel sad?"

"Mhmhm."

"If you hold my paw and I hold your hand we can be brave together. Why don't you tell me all about you, Ki-chan?"

"Kay. My name is Kikiyo but everyone calls me Ki-chan. Even my mama, papa and big sister call me that. I like being called Ki-chan. I have friends and before I got sick and had to come to the hospital we all went to the amusement park together...."

While the girl and nurse talked the other nurse could quickly slide in the new IV needle.

"I was scared but the coaster was so fun and I wanted to go again right after!"

"See, sometimes it takes a little courage."

When Mayu cleared her throat that the job was done. "Oh sorry, afraid my spirit has to go back to the misty forest for a while but you can hold onto me and put your own into me and still talk."

"Kaaay!" Handing her the little stuffed bear she patted her head and went along next round of duties.

"You're very good with the little kids. I take it you have little siblings. Well you probably mentioned that but it's very clear."

"Yes I do indeed have several little siblings. I'm not even the oldest but I do come from a big family. So I know a thing or two. But I mean I still am expecting to learn a lot from you, senpai. So what's up next?"

"Next we have to visit the the adults in the ward. We have just about all age ranges in this room from the very old to the young adult. All kinds of conditions. No diaper changes today as Ki-chan and Nao-chan took care of that so we just will do the usual temp and vitals checks. Also nobody should be due for a IV change just yet." She looked at her watch "Okay, Shi-san, feeling okay so far, getting the handle on it? Remember you can ask all questions, no such thing as dumb questions when you're new, it's important to make sure everything is clear."

"Thank you, senpai. I'll do my best to ask anything that comes to mind. Well do we ever have one-on-one patient assignments or are they all groups like what we're doing now?"

"There are times we do get one on one. Special cases that might require a lot of care. It may seem a bit counter intuitive but it doesn't always go to the most experienced nurse. It's more about who has the time and some times it's just a baptism by fire. I haven't had one but Kaname-chan as a Second Year Nurse had her first one on one. A difficult case, girl with aplastic anemia and a real chip on her shoulder. it worked out though we gave her the care until she had a transplant, she got better and was able to leave and Kaname got to learn a lot about nursing. I haven't had one myself but I've grown close with some patients that it almost feels like I have a special treatment plan."

"Wow even at a second year she struggled? What does that say about me then?"

"It says like any one of us, you'll have plenty of obstacles to get over to be a great nurse. Nobody is born one, but I can't sugar coat it by saying you won't have struggles. Your first death, a difficult patient so much goes into what we do. Just be ready best you can and take the lumps as they come to you. I had to learn it too. But also, don't worry, we're all going to help you when those days do come. We've all be there. You're a rookie but we take care of our rookies here. But we also get ragged on occasionally too, just remember it's teasing and not to take it personally."

"Ah I'm really glad. I'm very excited about working here with you, Senpai. Um, don't take this as me being forward, but don't suppose I could take you to dinner? I mean to thank you for being so kind and for wanting to be my preceptor. I know the Chief assigned you but I would think you'd have the option to decline. If you don't want to, that's okay. Really, it's just meant to be a thank you."

"You know, I would love to go out to dinner for a change. Lately, I've just been getting bentos from the corner station and pouring over medical books in my room. Don't worry, we don't have to go anywhere expensive. I know a great ramen place and we can each pay our own way."

"I don't mind paying for us! let it be my treat. Again my thanks to you."

"I really hate to force you to pay, not my style. But I also hate to be rude....As long as it's affordable so I don't put you out, okay?"

All right, it's a deal, senpai. Mayu. Saito-san, oh sorry sorry."

"Hehehe, Mayu, is fine. Now let me show you the next aspects of work before we break for lunch." she lead her little preceptee along to help her with a few more tasks and show her a few new things then it was lunch time "Stupidly, I forgot lunch and sad to say this hospital doesn't have a lunch room. So it's mooch, hit the machines or run to the corner station in your uniform. Trust me, if you take time to change in and out you'll have no time to eat " She and her sat down together on the couch in the employee break room.

"Why don't we share? I often pack more because I usually pack with my little sister in mind. She's a year younger than me but we went to the same classes in school. She was often spacey and forgetful and didn't pack her lunch." she handed a pair of chopsticks over "Here I carry spares."

"Really? Thank you so much. Now though I can't possibly let you buy me dinner if you're treating me to lunch."

"Please, don't worry about it, I really do want to treat you for becoming my Preceptor. Oh Senpai, this may be a silly question as it's a hospital but do we have any open time? Time when we're not tied to work or on rounds? I was hoping to maybe do some practice on some fundamentals with you. Silly, I know, as a new hire that I want to work on the fundies."

"No shame in that, making sure you have your basics down is good nursing. What do you want help on?"

"bed making, bed making is probably my weakest skill, I'm shamed to say. If we don't have any this afternoon, that's fine, I can come back maybe after hours?"

"As a matter of fact, we do have a lull period. If you want some help, I'd be glad to work with you some more. Bed making just so happened to be my excellent subject at nursing school. Kind of ironic because I was always kind of messy at home. Drove my older sister nuts!"

"Hehe well I was always tidy. But somehow my weakest. Thanks I'd really like some help."

"Of course. Well, let's eat." They had a nice lunch together but didn't have much time to talk before they'd have to be back on duty so it was mostly focused on eating and getting ready. As promised Mayu was able to take her to an empty room in the ward "Right now we don't have any patients. This is mostly an overflow section when other hospitals get too busy or too crowded or for training students." As they entered and she turned on the lights and lightning illuminated the room as thunder crashed. "Oh" She gasped slightly "That caught me off guard! Losing my country senses it seems! Anyway, guessing we should get onto work, here we go." she pulled the sheets and blankets off a bed. "We'll use this one to practice setting, this one over here we can practice. let's go through the motions from turn down, sheet changes, sheet placement and folding and stacking. "

"Thank you." A while of doing that "Am I keeping you, senpai? I just realized I might be..."

"Hehehe relax. I have some reports to write but I can write them before I go home today. Important thing is to make sure your ready for the ward duties. And remember, you can call on the other nurses as you need, I'm always happy to train you but don't forget we're a team and we got to work together for our patients."

"Your right, your right, senpai! I'll remember that, I promise. Maybe I need to get to know the others better, they seem really nice. And The Chief too seems nice."

"She really is. She's tough and firm but she'll always guide you and watch out for you. Now let's see how you did?" She sighed "You're right, bed making needs work. Remember a messy bed is a quick way to patients getting bed sores, so we have to be exact. Let's keep practicing a while."

"Ah guess I really do need a lot of practice." She sighed, melancholy

"It's all right, it takes time. Let's go again while we still have the room but we'll have to get out soon before the evening nursing class comes in for practice." They took time to practice more while they could. After that it was back to the ward for the end of their shift. Just simple of writing up reports and giving notes to the Chief. "I took Shi-san for a little practice on her bed making skills in the training room and Kaname-san took on any needed work for us around the room"

"Mmm, Kaname-san just got off a double." Chief said.

"Chief it was no issue, just a few walk rounds and no serious issues.." Kaname tried to brush off

"Still. Saito-san, it was good thinking to take your new preceptee to do some hands on training and to ensure your duties were covered even in a quiet period but you never know when a situation might crop up. Next time, pick a nurse who will be more rested. Same with you, Kaname-san, covering for your co-workers show good teamwork but still you have been going for 14 hours now, fatigue will set in. That can lead to problems. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You, Shi-san,"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Take what I just said to heart as well. But I do want to praise you for reaching out to your preceptor and understanding where you need practice. Don't forget we're here to help you learn. Nursing school can only teach so much, but there's much you learn on the job. Now, with all that said, ladies good work today. Kaname-san, I will see you when you work in three days. Rest up well. And Saito-san, Shi-san, see you tomorrow. Good day, ladies and do stay dry out there."

"Thank you, Chief."

"Thank, you!"

As they got changed Shi felt the need to apologize "I'm sorry, I kind of got you in trouble with the Chief..."

"Naaah don't even worry about it! Chief always finds a reason to lecture and she had a good point, I should have asked someone else to take care of our rounds. I always fall back on Kaname because when things when my senpai went to surgery, Kaname sort of took over me as preceptor. Still you owe me dinner so don't think you're getting out of that one!"

"Ah right then! I'm gonna keep doing my best for you! And thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, shall we walk together?" She grabbed her umbrella.

"Ah yeah let's go!" Upon their arrival at their destination Shi ordered a beer for herself "Cheers" they clicked glasses together and started drinking as their food came out

"Holy crap, you're 20?" Mayu said "I really had you pegged for 19. Maybe a younger super prodigy who aced her way to med school"

"Hehe yeah just turned 20 in March. Senpai I think you might have watched too many medical dramas. I don't think I've heard of any real life 14 year old middle school doctor prodigy."

"Kay okay so I watch too much. Sometimes all I gotta do at night ya know. I'm a single girl in the big city but it's hard to meet a quality gal."

"So, Senpai, you mentioned you grew up on a farm and all that but what gave you the idea to go become a nurse? Is it simple country girl wanting to go to the city or something more?" she had to pause with the constant crashing of thunder outside

"Huh? Didn't I tell you this? Oh maybe not well I told you about my senpai, Uta-senpai? She was the one who gave me the idea. Ironic, considering we broke up after a while. But it's okay we're still pals she works in the same hospital, different area she went to surgery shortly after I joined Internal Medicine. At first I did think about maybe just calling it quits and go back to the farm like my older sister but I really do like nursing. I like working with patients, especially kids. I like being able to help people ya know. I get more here than I ever would as a farmer! Minus getting to wear nothing but overalls all day." She laughed sipping down her beer "Or sometimes nothing at all. Yah I used to work nude all the time ya know! It gets hot out in the jungle. Sleep naked, work naked, cook naked! Well I really don't suggest cooking naked. All sexy in magazines and photos but trust me it's just a bad idea. Sorry think I'm gettin a bit drunk so I might spill out a lot to ya!"

"Hehe Senpai you're really something. I don't think it's all that bad either that you followed your first love out to nursing. I'd probably have done something just as silly if I weren't such an overthinker. For me. oh I guess you didn't really ask."

"Ahaha go on my cute little kohai! I told you mine only right you tell me yours"

"I became a nurse because my mom is a nurse back home. A small clinical doctor's nurse, not like working in a big hospital. I feel the same though, I want to help people. I came to the city because I thought I'd be of more use than in my small town on the west coast. It's admirable but I just feel a calling of something bigger."

"Hey that aint a bad way to go about it either! You know that's why we're gonna be great students. But anyway, suppose I oughta cut myself off or I'll have a wicked hangover tomorrow. Another rookie mistake not to do my little Kohai-chan! We gotta be sharp and at our best first thing so we'll wrap up our night of drinkin' here! Bar keep, tab!" The check handed over, "Oooooh" she saw the high amount "I thought this was bottomless night?"

"That's tomorrow, Mayu-chan" The bartender chastised "And no aint gonna credit you for this one, you already have a long tab going! Pay up or no service until you do."

"Hehe don't worry senpai, I'll cover us this time but afraid your on your own for the rest of your tab. At least until I get my first pay check" Shi reached into her purse handing the cash to the bar tender plus tips.

"Nooo don't worry about my long tab. I appreciate you covering me tonight I'll get the rest too next payday. Saki-chan you got my promise" she told the bartender. "Awww thanks so muuuuch, Shi-shi chan! I think I already love ya!"

"Hehe it's okay, but don't make it a habit. Set a good example, okay?" she gave over the cash got change "Delightful, bartender thank you. Senpai, I best get going too, I still have a bit of unpacking to do. Well maybe I should walk you home, you seem a bit put out and drunk."

"Naah naah I'm okay, promise. You go on then, I'll see you at work then."

She waved her goodbye letting her leave "Huuuuuh she's sooo freakin' cute! Gawwwwd I'm so lonely here!"

The bartender just sighed "shack up with her then."

"Hey hey she's a colleague. I can't just jump into bed with her cause I feel like it!"

"Right, guess buy HER dinner first."

"Sakiiii you're so vulgar."

the bartender sighed, "I'm calling you a taxi, Mayu."

A rainy run home but here Shi was back in her apartment for the night. Getting out of her wet clothes and getting a hot shower going but answering her phone "mama hi! Yeah things are okay my first day wasn't bad."

On the phone her mother spoke, "I'm glad you're doing well, darling. And it sounds like you have quite a storm going huh? I can hear a lot of thunder, you're okay aren't you?"

"Oh I'm fine I'm fine. Yeah it's coming down good, just came up in the middle of my shift."

"Well be safe out there, darling. Remember the weather and climate is very different out there compare to here"

"Aww mama, I'm fine! A little rain and wind isn't going to stop me! I'll be careful though, I promise."

"Well I don't want to keep you too long but how was your first day

Shi ran through the details of the day how her new preceptor was training her and helpful and nice "And she and I went out to dinner. No, mama just as colleagues. Listen I should get in the bath and get to bed, I do work tomorrow. Love you, bye bye!" she hung up the phone "Senpai...She sounds a little lonely. Wonder if she's okay?" She got undressed into a bath and she thought more about her cute senpai and working in the ward with every one else "I hope I do a good job"

Mayu did often find herself lonely on nights like this. Missing her family back home, her relationship with her senpai. Despite her dedication to nursing a it was nights like these she often contemplated just calling it quits and moving back home. Still how much it took to convince her parents to let her go to nursing school and move to Yurigahama, took a lot she wasn't sure she could face them. Maybe she should join her big sis and her wife Ellis overseas. Looking at her clock it was getting on 4 AM now. Unable to sleep she got up had some breakfast and decided she'd just head to work early, sometimes the night crew could use the help and the overtime pay wasn't bad either. Starting to get ready for work she listened to the radio just like she always did in the morning, "Expect heavy thunderstorms to continue through today, but tomorrow the sunshine will be back so you can bring out your bikinis or trunks and enjoy the warm weather." Grabbing her raincoat she set out, her negative thoughts of quitting replaced again by the pep talk she had as a first year nurse right after she broke things off but most of all now, her new charge. "Mmmm. I can't let Shi down by quitting." With that she went along to work for another day of nursing and training ahead.

by **Aureumterra III** » Wed Aug 16, 2023 10:47 am

Potens, Aureumterra
March 18th, 2028

The wave plunges and the sea-birds cry;
Power is in the ocean and the sky.
The wind-driven tide
That would come whispering on still days With a long ripple breaking in a sigh,
Now crashes down;

To say that the sound of the city was deafening would be an understatement like none other. One could hardly hear a person standing next to them in the roar of the crowd, as millions upon millions of people had flooded the city of Potens, Aureumterra’s old and proud Imperial Capital, for an event that most hadn’t experienced in recent memory. Uncharacteristic of the Sunday afternoon, streets upon streets were jam packed with crowds, a sea of people that wore the colors of Yellow and Orange, the colors of the Hæstirétt. The city’s various pubs, shopping districts, malls, and squares were full of jubilant crowds, eager to witness the historic, once-in-a-lifetime event. Practically the entire city was draped in the colors, along with the ubiquitous sight of the monogram of the soon-to-be monarch flying at every lamppost and many balconies overlooking the city streets.

Thousands of police officers, soldiers, security personnel, and Imperial Guards had been deployed the handle the mass of people on this day. Many in the crowd had waited for almost twenty-four hours to be able to get to the front of the barricades lining the path of the procession that was about to happen, carefully watched by the line of ever present Imperial Guards lining the entirety of the route, ever remaining silent, stoic, and expressionless.

At long last, their wait was vindicated. The enthronement procession, in its route snaking through the streets of the capital, would be met with a cheer at each turn so loud it may as well have drowned out the sound of anything else in the entire area. People waved flags, held up portraits of the Hæstirétt and Alladrøttning, and desperately attempted to get a glimpse of the procession as it made its way.

A group of lead vehicles would be leading the procession, loudly projecting the Imperial Anthem. This was followed by a mass of Imperial Guards riding horses, who in turn led a convoy of police motorcycles surrounding a central vehicle - the Solvogn, a modified limousine which had replaced the carriage of the same name that had been used by Hæstirétts for over a millenia. The vehicle had a golden-cream colored finish, and had two flags flying on either side of its hood - one being the Åltæden’s coat of arms, and the other being the now-Hæstirétt’s monogram.

The wind-blown gulls
That stood in tranquil days
Like metal birds fixed on the lobster-floats,
Mirrored gray-silver in the glass tide,

It was a strange feeling for Ingrid, as she sat stiffly in the vehicle, witnessing the masses waving and cheering as they passed by out of the window. The deafening roar of the city outside was hardly a hum in the impenetrable walls of the Solvogn, and yet it may as well have been the most powerful sound she had heard in her life. She glanced at her husband, who sat stoic and without obvious expression beside her, dressed in a grand mantle and dress that had been used by every Hæstirétt since the fifteenth century. She looked down at her own dress, a stunning diamond-studded gown that flowed past her feet and seemed almost like a river of silver and diamonds, with its white silk sash wrapping around her.

It had been a long day already for her. Both she and her husband had gotten up well before dawn, heading to the Valley of Angels just outside of the capital city’s premises. The site of the legendary Eternal Coronation of 1060, where Cnut I established the eternal bloodline that would forever link God and Earth through the Hæstirétt and the Åltæden - when it was said the voices of angels could be heard singing from the heavens as the he put the first crown on his head.

Today, the valley was home to a magnificent Imperial Church, built around the fated site. The Imperial party was accompanied by an entourage of Church Presbyters - those selected by the previous Hæstirétta to oversee the hierarchy of priests and bishops, and officiate the ceremonies and functions of the Imperial Church - alongside a convent of Nuns which accompanied Ingrid. The dual functions of the Presbyters and the Nuns at this ceremony highlighted the dual, complementarian roles of the Hæstirétt and Alladrøttning in Aureumterran society. The former being the embodiment of the church, state, and military, while the latter being the figurehead of domestic life and institutions of family and hearth.

She knew the fateful day would come, ever since she wedded the then-Crown Prince. However, the feeling on the day itself was indescribable. It may as well have been a cocktail of emotions, forming something which the woman had never felt in her life. She and her husband had been separated once they arrived at the basilica, the Presbyters following him into the main sanctum of the building, while the Nuns accompanied her and her ladies-in-waiting as they went to the secondary sanctum. Both of them had been undressed and bathed in Holy Water as the dawn sun shone itself in the sky, a ritual said to purify one’s soul, and cleanse the body of sin and vice. Certainly, it was necessary for one to be of pure soul before taking on the mantle of being God’s link with Earth.

Following this ritual purification, the Imperial couple visited the tomb of the previous Hæstirétt - or in this instance, the Hæstirétta - the late Lisette II. The late Empress had designated her eldest son from her second marriage as her successor long before her passing, and the visit to the tomb was a symbolic fulfillment of this designation. The Hæstirétt was a cyclical, successive position. There had been an unbroken line since Cnut I, having gone nearly a millennium, each Hæstirétt successively fulfilling their duty to God and their bloodline.

Her husband then inflicted himself with a wound on his right arm - his second one. The first one still showed its scar on his arm, as it did on Ingrid’s arm, the wound that had been inflicted upon their marriage. As was ritual, the two would join their wounds together, mixing their blood, symbolizing an eternal blood union in their marriage. The importance of blood, especially for the Imperial Family in Aureumterra could not be understated. This time, her husband let himself bleed onto the tomb of his late mother, while a stored capsule of blood from the late monarch would be brought in, and put into the wound while it was still fresh. The symbolic exchange of blood here would represent a continuation of the bloodline, the link between him and the previous Hæstirétta.

There wasn’t much time to get ready for the procession and the zenith of the day thereafter, a brief trip back to Höll Glæsilegt was made, with both of them doing final touch-ups on themselves and changing into their ceremonial dresses for this monumental occasion, as her husband got ready to finally enthrone himself as the Hæstirétt.

On any other day, Ingrid would be thoroughly exhausted by this point. However, as she looked out of the tinted windows into the gargantuan, adoring crowds outside, it filled her with an energy - not one of excitement or anxiety, but a strange one she could not put her finger on. Perhaps it was the simple exotic feeling, one that she was hardly used to, one that she certainly did not have for most of her life seeing such admiration.

After all, she never had been the focus of so much… attention. Let alone the adoration.

Rush with the gale and, when they turn,
Struggle upright, tossed again back.
Heart that, once as still as they,
Idled with an unmeaning sigh,

For most of her life, her family hardly paid much attention to her. Born into an offshoot branch of the Åltæden, both of her parents hardly gave her even the time of day when she was born. Not only was she a daughter, but she wasn’t even their first daughter. That, however, was still preferable to what she would endure for most of her life ever since her father began to suspect she was illegitimate. He was a rather easily inflamed man, but he had decided, it seemed, to take all of his pent up anger out on his daughter. Her mother, hardly a presence in the house, only with her father when they needed to present themselves as a happy couple in front of society, never cared enough about her to stop it.

And so rather tragically, Ingrid would spend most of her days at his mercy, being unable to find any glimmer of hope in her life. Unlike most girls, who dreaded being sent to boarding school and leaving their families behind, Ingrid was one of the few who looked forward to it, and saw it as a relief from her abusive household. She was planning on a rather uneventful life thereafter, pursuing a career as an administrator in the bureaucratic mass that was the Imperial Government.

As such, nothing could have prepared her for the path fate would take her when she caught the eye of the late Hæstirétta - not from a recommendation from her parents, they couldn’t care less - but rather her instructors. During a chance visit from the Hæstirétta to the school, one of the most elite institutions in the Empire and where many of the Åltæden would go, she had been singled out as a girl of good character, piety, and morality. Of course, it wasn’t that she intently followed such, her upbringing had instilled a sense of meekness and deference in her. She hardly ever stirred up any trouble, neither did she try to break any rules - drugs, partying, and whatnot - like the other girls there did, she knew any slip up here and she would be condemned to a life of suffering at her prison of a home.

It seemed almost comically fast how things took a turn from there. She was summoned to Höll Glæsilegt, intently met - rather interrogated - by the Hæstirétta as she was seeking a match for the then-Crown Prince, whomever would later go on to become the Alladrøttning. The Empress seemed to like her, and set up the match, neither her nor her future husband were consulted. No one could question it, however, Lisette was a figure divinely revered by that point in Aureumterra, questioning her judgment may as well have been the equivalent of blasphemy.

Ingrid didn’t know what to expect. She had then, in a matter of months gone from a relatively mundane existence to soon being one of the most revered figures in the world by a strange twist of fate. Both she and her husband remained stoic and awkward on their wedding, the bloodletting, the union, it all seemed rather forced. She didn’t even bother remembering the details of the consummation of their marriage.

Yet there was a sense that she was now about to become what she had been missing her whole life. Seeing the reverence she was now suddenly shown by so many… it empowered her in a way she had never been.

It felt good. She enjoyed it. And she wanted more.

She turned and glanced at her husband, he sat stiffly and silently, not showing any hint of emotion on his face as the procession made its way. Despite her being rather used to it by this point, she was surprised his demeanor remained such even on this monumental day, the day that would define both of their lives. She had hoped he would have mellowed out after nearly three years of their marriage. Both of them were committed to each other, but the intimacy she had hoped at this point simply wasn’t there. Perhaps that would only happen when they have their first child, or at least she wished so.

Or gazed at bygone days in memory's glass,
Now with hard passion buffeted,
Beats up against the gale,

Her train of thoughts, however, was interrupted as the procession finally begun to slow down… and came to a halt. Before her stood the magnificent Canutian Basilica, the Mother Church of the entire Imperial Church. The vast basilica was draped with the monograms of the new Hæstirétt to celebrate his enthronement for this day, yet the 17th century artwork and statues of every Aureumterran Hæstirétt since Cnut I still lined the building’s sides.

Her heart began to race as the mix of emotions stirring within her throughout the day came to a boiling point. Her husband turned to her, and she nodded, him returning it. Neither said a word to each other. Billions of eyes were now on them, from the Empire and across the entire world.

Ingrid first heard the doors of the vehicle right behind the Solvogn in the motorcade - the one carrying her ladies-in-waiting - shut as they made their way out and took their places. An Imperial Guard walked up to the door of the Solvogn on her side, and opened it. Almost immediately, the insulated, armored walls of the vehicle gave way to the absolutely gargantuan noise outside. A mass of cheers and shouts hit Ingrid’s ear like a train, yet rather than causing more anxiety for her, it was strangely a boost to her confidence. The Imperial Guard prostrated as he pulled the door back, allowing for the soon-to-be Empress to step out - which she did.

The roar of the ocean of people grew only louder upon seeing Ingrid, as the pool of Imperial and international press began flashing their cameras. She carefully stepped out in her silver heels, the silver sequined, diamond studded gown glimmering in the afternoon sunlight, almost angelic. Her ladies in waiting curtsied as she stepped out, and quickly scrambled to hold her flowing dress and mantle behind her. Now extended, the full mantle looked almost like a long, flowing river of glittering lights, reflecting the afternoon sun on its jewels. The end of the mantle displayed her own monogram as Alladrøttning.

She carefully made her way around the Solvogn, her ladies in tow, carrying her flowing mantle. Her light brown hair flowed in the breeze as she felt it wrap around her, almost complementing the mesmerizing sound of the crowds and the fanfare in her ears. She now had a very slight smile on her face as she came to the other side, facing the carpet that led to the entrance of the basilica. Another Imperial Guard opened the door facing this side, this time, almost all in close vicinity prostrated as her husband stepped out. She curtsied, as was standard procedure, while her ladies prostrated whilst continuing to hold her mantle.

The crowd, meanwhile, had gotten to a point of euphoria the moment he stepped out. The subjects and millions of Enme around the world were laying eyes on their now spiritual and political leader, shortly about to put on the crown. His demeanor, as ever, was expressionless and even comically relaxed given the magnitude of the moment for him. A mass of Imperial Guards, these dressed in yellow instead of the usual blue representing their positions at a religious site, lifted their bayonets and bent their right knees in unison as the couple, along with all of the personnel in tow, walked on the carpet into the vast, bronze doors of the Basilica.

Inside, the roaring crowd outside almost eerily gave way to a silent sanctum. Not devoid of people, in fact, the most important members in the highest rungs of power in Aureumterra were all present - The Chief Minister of the Imperial Government, Commander of the Imperial Guard, various high ranking bureaucrats, top military officers, and of course, the Hæstirétt’s close family. Despite this generally unruly crowd however, everyone stood and remained dead silent, so as to not infringe upon the sanctity of the ceremony that was about to happen.

Ingrid walked carefully beside her husband, the only sounds in the room being those of footsteps softly landing on the carpet. She made sure to remain slightly behind him as they approached the altar at the head of the sanctum. On the altar were two thrones. The legendary Midnight Sun throne itself, symbolic of the spiritual and temporal power of the Hæstirétt, ornately decorated with symbols of authority, strength, and piety sat imposingly. Besides it was a smaller, yet no less ornately decorated throne, this one with symbols of hearth, domesticity, and life. In front of the Midnight Sun Throne lay a pillow with two crowns resting on top of it, and besides the throne, a stand of a couple gold plated dishes, each holding a different substance.

Ingrid watched carefully as her husband ascended the steps leading to the altar. He dipped his right hand into one of the gold dishes, carrying Holy Water, and sprinkled it on his head. He then dipped his hand into the one carrying oil, and silently spoke a prayer as he anointed his own forehead with it. Finally, he turned around and picked up the crown with both of his hands, carefully placing it on his head, as his retainers released the mantle they were holding up allowing him to step back. He then took a seat on the throne.

The entire sanctum now deeply prostrated, including Ingrid. They all got on their knees, bearing their heads and necks down to the newly enthroned Hæstirétt, the scion of the eternal link between God and Earth. This prostration continued for exactly one minute, following which the room returned to standing positions at ease, with the exception of Ingrid.

She remained prostrant, her ladies now having let go of her own mantle and dress. Remaining on her knees, she carefully ascended the steps to the altar, making sure to keep her head and neck low as she did, as she still was not officially Alladrøttning yet. As she made her way to her husband’s feet, she now slightly raised her head. Her husband sprinkled Holy Water on her own head, and anointed her forehead with oil, in the same order. He then turned and placed the second crown on her head.

As the crown touched her hair, she felt a sense of power surging through her, a feeling she had never felt in her entire life. Her slight smile grew wider, and she briefly looked at her husband, who for practically the first time today, gave a very slight smile in return. She rose now, her mantle and dress wrapping around her as she turned around. The entire room prostrated once again - this time to her. Her smile was now a wide, visible grin. She knew millions were watching her at this moment, all in reverence. She was no longer bound to her miserable existence, she was powerful now… even revered. And she enjoyed the feeling.

Or crashes on the shattered glass of memory,
And cries that there is power in destiny
As well as in the ocean and the sky.

Poem: Power by Duncan Campbell Scott

by **Sombreland** » Sat Aug 19, 2023 2:10 pm

Galador, Sombreland

Summer was about over, and, in spite of the agricultural crisis, a harvest brought in, and a great white plane descended into the airport at Galador, like a big albatross coming over the sea and gliding in on its great wings. From that plane emerged Prince Wilan de Hulfe, who had been acting as a roving ambassador and on several fact finding missions.

The Princess-Regent, Alavaine, looked narrowly at him, then greeting him with much outward show of carelessness and pleasure made him go with her to the Gray Palace in Galador. There, the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, made Prince Wilan de Hulfe a great goblet of red wine, and said to him, “I was out walking and touring today and I am all damp with sweating and the sun! You shall attend me."

This was not immodest at all; the Princess-Regent had a large bathing chamber, and it was well screened and arranged so that she could be attended, read correspondence, and spoken to, Guests and attendants alike could sit nearby, and not a peep of the delicacy of the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, was so much as glimpsed. However, there were lots of fluffy suds, wonderful scents of jasmine, and the most velvety of bath oils that made the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, feel as though every inch of her soft skin was shimmering like silk. And she was attended by the Lady-Countess Carnelian, who made sure that her hair was wonderfully washed and at ease, and that every least fingernail was clean as a whistle. And the Lady-Countess Carnelian wept to see the Princess-Regent rinsed and clean at last, for the moon, unveiled by clouds, was not so beautiful. All the while, Prince Wilan de Hulfe explained what had occurred from his own point of view within ICON. He recommended strongly that the Princess-Regent, had to avoid SACHI and the creature's machinations, for SACHI, from its tiny position near the frozen seas of Antarctica, wanted nothing more than for al human beings too be under its thrall. It had bewitched a military officer and diplomat from Anagonia, a Major Gill. Prince Wilan de Hulfe, against his will, was most impressed that this was already known to the Princess-Regent, Alavaine. This also caused the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, to weep, for one of her dearest friends was simply a piece of clever clockwork. Yet, the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, vowed, it remained, this love. It occurred to Prince Wilan de Hulfe that love and loyalty could be curses.

The Princess-Regent, Alavaine, wept herself into a soft handkerchief offered by the Lady-Countess Carnelian, as servants brought Prince Wilan de Hulfe cream wafers and wine as he sat beyond a fine painted screen on a comfortable chair, and all he knew of the bathing was the sound of water and occasional girlish cries of delight from the royal and the noble lady within. The Princess-Regent, Alavaine, wept, for she had to inform Prince Wilan de Hulfe that she was dismssing the Grand Duke Pofolman from his service as Chancellor He was to be replaced by Prince Shaladew Kadav. As she spoke she stepped into a towel soft as a cloud, and unguents were smoothed upon her skin, so that when she was dressed the cloth whispered as though in devotion to her beauty, with the Lady-Countess Carnelian leading the loving worship. But Prince Wilan de Hulfe spoke of how ICON had served its purpose for the Kingdom of Sombreland, yielding up good relations and alliances. He spoke of how he could get along with the Military Caste leadership, particularly General-Admiral Arimey, who had been in charge of ICON miltiary forces until recently, and also Grand Admiral Teroth, "...along with whom I worked when I served Your Majestic Highness' grandfather..."

By this time, under the direction of in full festival attire, with her jacket of black tiffany embroidered with diamonds, black velvet skirt sweeping the floor and attended by little maids. Everything was rather somber, the only contrast being her tiara that rose high on her head and sparkled with blue sapphires. She required that Prince Wilan de Hulfe should accompany her to the banquet hall.

Those that were there rose to their feet in silence, gazing expectant on the Princess-Regent, Alavaine. There was news that the King was farther from recovery, not even speaking to his granddaughter, but still clung to life. Honours were heaped upon the white head of the Grand Duke Pofolman, who hobbled from the banquet hall on his ivory cane.

At a nod from the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, a chamberlain bade Prince Wilan de Hulfe come forward. Prince Wilan de Hulfe wore a tuxedo and had a sash and court and civil service medals glittering at his neck and on his chest like constellations.

When they had so stood silent while men might count twenty breaths, the Princesss-Regent, Alavaine, spoke, saying: “Prince Wilan de Hulfe, receive the name of the position of Minister of the Left, and also Minister of Death, which I grant you, and make homage to me thereof.”

The breath of amazement went about the hall. Prince Wilan de Hulfe kneeled. The Princess-Regent, Alavaine, said, "Prince Wilan de Hulfe: the Kingdom of Sombreland is in great danger. Though allies have come to us, we are surrounded by a spider's web of intrigues, and I grant you such authority as you must have to strike at them and tear them down."

Prince Wilan de Hulfe stood up, as applause rang out like a fanfare. His face flamed red as an autumn sky when leaden clouds break apart on a sudden westward and the sun looks out between. “Your Majestic Highness,” said he, “give me where I may sit down: I will make where I may lie down. Before another moon shall wax again to the full I will tame this beast of Aureumterra. If I do not shortly remedy for you our fortunes which those who hate us have laboured to ruin, spit in my face, Majestic Highness, withhold from me the light of your being, and put curses upon me which shall destroy and blast me for ever, and may I be reborn lowly of station.”

by **Aquilinia** » Sun Aug 20, 2023 3:23 am

Éspère
Capital of the Aquilinian Dominion of Reilimée
Esvanovia

October 8, 2767 AUC

“Henri! Have you seen your father? He should have come home now.” Madame Valérie Golfier was just an ordinary citizen of Éspère, a part-time worker at a small convenience store owned by her husband, Monsieur Pierre Golfier. They lived a modest life, in a small, rented flat in the outskirts of the city, together with their 18-year-old son Henri, who had just graduated from the local lycée, and was, in his own words, “just working on figuring things out”, much to his mother’s chagrin.

“I’ve not seen the old man all day,” Henri’s response came from the young man’s room, where he had been holed up playing video games, like most days. “Wasn’t he at the store?”

“You know he had that meeting with those importers today, or at least you would if you ever listened!” Valérie sighed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t entirely unlike her husband to stay out until god-knows-when, drinking and gambling with his business contacts on the rare occasion that they were in town. “Ah well, he’ll be back at some point, I’m sure. I’ll make some dinner, come out of that room and help me for once!”

Pierre Golfier never returned home that night. Three days later, the Maréchausée found his body in an alleyway near the docks. It had turned out that his “business contacts” from Vulcassi weren’t all that legitimate – in fact, they were part of one of the major operations in the black markets of Carona. And Pierre had owed them a lot of money, a debt that he had failed to repay.

The years passed. Following the murder of her husband, Valérie fell into a deep depression. She closed their little convenience store and sold it to a supermarket chain. Two years after her Pierre’s death, she hanged herself.

Infuriated by the senseless deaths of his parents, Henri finally decided what he wanted to do with his life. He studied law enforcement, and joined the Maréchausée as a detective. He became obsessed with work, and eradicating the influence of the Carona black market in Reilimée.

Finally, sixteen years after his father’s death, he had found a lead. And his investigation took him right into the belly of the beast.

Carona
Province of Vulcassi, the Free State of Aquilinia
Esvanovia

June 3, 2783 AUC

Carona. The Volcano that never dies. The capital city of the Aquilinian Province of Vulcassi was built in the caldera of an extinct volcano, with only few connections to the outside world. To the north, a winding road up the mountain led to the lowest part of the rim, and from there down into the city itself. To the east, a hanging monorail line made its way up the mountain, connecting to the rest of the province’s rail network at Carona Base Station, as well as connecting the city to its international airport. Finally, several tunnels had been broken through the mountain, allowing the city to be reached by three highways.

There was a small airport in the caldera as well, too small to use for commercial flights, so it was primarily used by the elites of the city in their private business jets, as well as other general aviation. It was this airfield that Detective Inspector Henri Golfier was arriving into, looking down on the volcano city as his flight made its very short approach to land. His investigation had finally had a breakthrough, and he had found the person most likely to be responsible for his father’s death: a neko who went by the cover name “Taurus”. Taurus was the leader of one of the biggest gangs in the city, the White Claw. Beginning as a political movement fighting for equal rights for Aquilinia’s faunus population, it had morphed into a terrorist group, before being crushed by law enforcement in the 2730s – or the 1980s, if you go by the Common Era calendar. It had re-emerged twenty years later as a criminal gang, quickly establishing a hold on the black markets of Carona.

And now, Henri Golfier had arranged a meeting with the man. After landing and checking in to his hotel, the now 33-year-old detective took a taxi to a nondescript warehouse near the crater wall, the address he had been given by his father’s old contacts. Once he arrived there, however, he found an unexpected sight – the warehouse had clearly been abandoned. The windows were boarded up, and the door was missing, leaving an easy entrance into the building. Nervously, he took his revolver out of the holster under his shoulder and entered the warehouse.

The interior looked just as dilapidated as the outside, with a few dusty, broken crates bearing the White Claw’s logo in a corner being the only indication that this building had ever been used. The door leading to the administration offices looking over the warehouse floor had been chained closed, but he could see from the rooms’ broken windows and lack of lighting that they, too, were unoccupied. Henri walked over to one of the crates and found a shipping label dated September 2771 – the building must have been abandoned for almost two years. Another dead end.

Henri was feeling rather dejected as he got back into the taxi, which had waited for him outside. “Didn’t think you’d find anything in there, detective” the driver, a middle-aged neko, said to him as he closed the door. “Word is, the Claw never stay in the same place long. Usually take abandoned warehouses like this one over for maybe a year at most, then move on. Urbani have been at least three steps behind them since forever. You’ve come a long way for nothing, Monsieur Golfier.”

The Inspector raised an eyebrow. “How do you know who I am? I don’t think I ever told you my name.” Under his jacket, he gripped the handle of his gun.

“You don’t get to be a driver in this city without learning how to recognise a keikan,” the driver replied with a chuckle. “The accent gives you away as being from Reilimée, and your name was on the credit card you paid me with. What, thought Taurus was driving you around the city? Bit of paranoia isn’t a bad idea in the caldera, but that’s a bit much. Besides, the current taurus is a fox, not a cat.”

Henri frowned. “What do you mean, the current Taurus?”

“It’s something like a title for the current leader of the Claw. Keikan found the last one dead about a month ago. So if you’re looking for him, I can take you to the morgue.”

“No, that’s not going to help me much.” The inspector sighed. “Take me to Urbani headquarters. I’m going to have to have a word with the Prefect.”

An hour later, Henri was sitting in the office of the head of the city’s law enforcement, Prefect Arima Ryo, an ageing, rather fat kitsune with greying hair and a thin moustache. “Detective Inspector Henri Golfier, of the Maréchausée of Reilimée,” the Prefect was reading off the top of the file in front of him. “Wanting to transfer to the Cohors Urbana of Carona. What takes you so far from home, Détectif-Inspecteur?”

Henri smiled. “I have unfinished business with the White Claws. Spend the last decade trying to root them out of Éspère, but I realised that the best way to do that is to take care of them at the source.”

Arima chuckled. “Running up against windmills there, Golfier, but you are welcome to try. Transfer is approved, go find Decurion Iunius to go over the details. But be warned, policing here in Carona is very different than it is back in peaceful little Reilimée. Going up against the Claw, that, however, is hopeless. They’re just like the volcano. And, like the saying goes, volcanoes never truly die.”

by **Creice** » Thu Aug 31, 2023 12:29 pm

✯

The Tryphonate of Creice

31 August 2023, Keep of Kriva

Paliánthropos Ólethros stood in the doorway of the small interrogation room, looking at his latest catch. The man sitting handcuffed to the table was a sailor onboard one of the Navy’s newest warships, the Nýchi, and had been caught in a sensitive area of the ship attempting to steal data from its core processors. Now it was Palián’s job to try and figure out what he had been doing in the ship’s data processor, and whether or not he was attempting to sell state secrets abroad. That was what he had his money on, anyway.

The soldier looked nervous, staring up at him from the doorway, though the room he was in was absolutely helping to make him feel trapped. Creicean interrogation cells were spartan in design, meant to look as drab and as cold as possible to ensure prisoners felt the full weight of their crimes. This particular sailor could not have been more than twenty or twenty-one years of age. His freckled face gave him a youthful appearance, though he was very much old enough to understand the seriousness of the charges that were placed upon him. Palián thought that he might just wet himself in the chair when his associates came to render the punishment that was waiting for him.

Palián looked down at the cowering whelp and resisted the urge to laugh at the boy’s plight. “You know why we keep these rooms so cold and frigid, young man? It’s to keep you from feeling any modicum of comfort while you’re visiting with us.”

“Please, sir, I know I screwed up! I don’t want to be here, I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

The boy was just giving himself over to Palián, who was loving every second of it. “What happens next is always the same no matter who is sitting in your chair. They always plead for mercy, because they hear stories of what we do here. Prisoners leaving maimed and crippled for life for crossing the Tryphonate. Do you want to be forgiven for your sins, young sailor?”

“Oh, yes sir, please sir! I’m sorry for what I did!”

“Sorry doesn’t undo your crimes,” Palián hissed down at the sailor, moving to sit across from him at the metal table he was seated at. “Maybe we should cut off your hands, see if that will prevent you from prying where you’re not supposed to be at next time!”

“No, please don’t! I swear I’ll tell you everything! Sometimes we get paid by agents on the black market to steal access codes to our military networks. They pay good money for backdoor access into our grid, and my family needs all the help they can get back home. So I caved to the pressure and tried to find my way into the system to make the extra money. Please, forgive me, I was stupid and didn’t know what I was doing!”

Palián looked at the boy with a mixture of pity and disgust. “Sorry? You’re sorry? You committed an act of espionage and treason against the Tryphonate, and you think sorry will suffice? Oh, no, I believe we need a little more contrition from you before our session ends here.”

“I will give up the names of my buyers! I will tell you how to find them and how to make contact so that you can stop them from buying off more sailors!”

Bingo! Palián had heard the magic words, and though he was a little bit sorry that he wouldn’t have to break the sailor to get the information out of him, obtaining it was still a job well done. “Well then? I’m waiting to hear names and information.”

“Everything is on a flash drive hidden in my bunk back on my ship.”

“Oh, you mean this flash drive?” Palián produced the small drive from his pocket, waving it at the sailor’s face. “It’s very well encrypted, but if we had your cipher key, that would be excellent.”

“Oh, right, right. It’s 012-512-KRP. That will unlock everything, I swear!”

Palián nodded, his hands folded together on the table. “Thank you for your cooperation, young one. I will be sure to mention to the authorities that you collaborated with us during your interrogation, since you won’t be able to.” Without hesitation, Palián pulled his sidearm from its holster and trained it at the sailor’s forehead. He pulled the trigger before the young man could even raise his voice in protest, the loud gunshot resonating loudly in the small room.

At the sound of the gunshot, Palián’s associates entered the room, having been waiting just outside for cleanup duty. He turned to them and said, “Take out his tongue and his eyes; we’ll sell the rest of his organs on the black market. Then send his husk to the crematorium for disposal.”

“Yes, sir,” his associate said. “We’ll take care of him.”

by **Neo-Western East Korea** » Mon Sep 25, 2023 5:45 am

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Omiskan, Neo-Korea

833 Myaku (1:00 P.M)

It had, before now, been a relatively regular day for Tadao Mochizuki, a staffer at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The sky had been dreary, and his walk to work was short as usual despite such, the general boredom of said walk being banished slightly by his mental reviewing of his tasks- his missions for the day, what had to be done and what could be pushed off on an irritating subordinate for the day- it was normalcy itself. This was, of course, until the message that had been broadcast within Meridon had reached his eyes- sent up the chain by aforementioned irritating subordinates as they themselves realized the sheer importance of what it entailed. While this was the correct option- as had been determined by both history and the State itself, it still left him in the irritating position of having to bring it to his superior- Terenti Petrov- the Minister of Foreign Affairs. He hated Terenti- not for reasons more important than office politics, but then again considering the nature of the Neo-Korean state such had a more violent- both in word and action- nature to it, and it could generally be argued that said office politics took on a more desperate nature in light of such.

Still, though, he decided it was better to bring this up the chain than to try and compose a response of his own- if he was lucky, maybe Terenti's own attempt- or his own bringing of it up the chain- would bring disaster to his position, potentially allowing Tadao to mount an internal challenge and get a bit of bureaucratic reshuffling going- he likely wouldn't be able to unseat Terenti himself, but the first step to such would be removing his allies, going off conventional wisdom. He repackaged the reports, wrote down his own two cents- or, well, two arbitrary currency elements- on the matter, and sent it off with the usage of a subordinate, to be utilized however it would be.

Today had been infinitely irritating for one Terenti Petrov. First, the Meridon Message (as he was mentally referring to it) had upset everything within the ministry itself- hundreds of documents were coming in from his staff asking for orders in regards to their internal and international messaging- it wasn't like he had an answer yet, this had been both entirely unexpected and potentially offered a complete shift in interaction between Anagonia and the demihuman terrorists- there was no way it would fail to stick its- he had been about to mentally "say" nose but he would suppose it was more accurate to say snout considering the circumstances- into the situation, which would leave Neo-Korea in a very unenviable position of having to watch its two closest allies in the soon-to-be war against Kaskaida struggle against each other on the international field. He would have to bring this up the chain, of course, but functionally it still presented an existential threat no matter how he phrased it, and he would have to acknowledge such in any hypothetical report.

...Unless, of course, he re framed it as a military failing. A failure to close a gap between development in this matter- he could foist all the failings on Alextrumvov and instead be called upon exclusively to carry out a response, instead of having to justify his own presumed failings. It would slightly damage their coalition- but Alextrumvov had done it to him over the Sable wreckage, so he could bite it at the current occasion. Biting his pen in thought, he eventually decided such was the best course of action, and moved to carry it out posthaste.

Beom Dae Tower, Neo-Korea

Beom Dae

“So, to recap: we have failed both to know of and close a gap between our capabilities in the realm of genetic engineering and the Meridonian advancements in such, we failed to look past intelligence gained from public and untrustworthy sources, we have failed to adequately prepare for such a hypothetical scenario, and we are now left scrambling to fix such, if I understand correctly."

Beom drummed his fingers on the table aggressively, almost seeming as if he was trying to break through it.

"Terenti, you will be creating a brief to give to the Voice of the Nation. Make sure it's appropriately conciliatory on both ends. You and Muraoka may leave. Pyoyter and Alextrumvov, stay."

The two mentioned would take their leave eagerly, avoiding what they presumed would be a dressing down of their compatriots. If they had remained in the room, they would have been surprised to see the Paramount Leader instead gripping his head in his hand, seemingly considering quite a few subjects, all of which unpleasant. He would look up to those two remaining and speak.

Beom Dae

“How did we let this happen...?"

Though it was tinged with some form of melancholy, it was still a demand, and so one of the two spoke.

Alextrumvov Karbenit

"Functionally, we had no reason to expect a program like this existed or was in a position to be made so successful- our own attempts...... well, you recall our own attempts. Additionally, we've failed to get intelligence assets in Meridon proper- most of our non-public information on them was from Whiteraven overflights quite a while ago- and while it does not excuse a lack of individual-level penetration, we did cancel such overflight programs to ensure the continuation of positive relations.
Ultimately, we cannot respond except by the means you've mentioned to Terenti- the Hokubushū-gun is prepared for a war, not a counterinsurgency at current.

The Paramount Leader nodded, and dismissed the two. It was going to be a long day.

by **Sombreland** » Thu Sep 28, 2023 6:54 pm

There were bells ringing all over Galador. Sullen Thonists we’re trying to cope with the fact that, far from being detrimental, the Princess-Regent’s foreign policy had proven triumphant. The military powers of Anagonia, Meridon, and Joseon had rushed to defend Sombreland, and with no price demanded, though it was well known that each of these nations was led by people who disagreed with the caste system and segregation of set of Sombreland.

The report from the military exercises was generally very good. Ground vehicle and infantry tactics were deemed superior. Grand Admiral Teroth explained that two things called air and artillery support were lacking. The Princess-Regent, Alavaine, placed her entire trust in Prince Wilan deHulfe, who placed his in the military experience of Grand Admiral Teroth. More fighters were being obtained from Meridon, and there were four carrier groups from Joseon. The Grand Admiral recommended the following:

First: more recruitment from those members of the military caste not already committed.

Sexond: elevating those members of the artisan caste and farmer caste who had already been providing military support.

Third:Purchase more artillery and planes

Fourth: Assign that artery and those planes to the ground forces to support them

Fifth: Get the allies to provide cadres for training.

“I have a question,” said the Princess-Regent, Alavaine.

“Yes, Majestic Highness?” asked Grand Admiral Teroth.

“I was reading this rather rude article in The Midnight Sun? I don’t understand part of it. There seems to be an implication that there is something inappropriate between myself and Lady-Countess Carnelian. But what could that be? Of course I delight in bathing with her. Of course we sleep together. Of course I dance with her. Of course we share gentle kisses. Don’t all best friends? Well, ladies, anyway..”

“I could not possibly say, Majestic Highness,” said Grand Admiral Teroth.

“It’s a strange foreign thing,” said Prince Wilan de Hulfe. “Some foreigners think it is…perverse…that you love women more than men”

“But of course I do!” cried the Princess-Regent, Alavaine. “After all, I have so much more in common with other women, and women are so much..do not be offended gentlemen..more attractive than men. I married my cousin of course, out of propriety, but not because I found him attractive! Though of course he is a fine man. Even if he is a Thonist”

“It is simply a foolish foreign article, Majestic Higness. The Aurreunterrans would love to see our Kingdom torn apart by disunity, which is no doubt why this rude article was published, to undermine Your Majestic Higness’ efforts to keep the Kingdom unified. May we return to the subject of military reform? I believe Grand Admiral Teroth’s suggestions are very good.”

“Yes, of course..” said the Princess-Regent, Alavaine, who felt hurt that people, even if they were foreigners thought there was something unsavoury about her relationship with the Lady-Countess Carnelian. She decided to ask her wise, good friend SACHI about it when they next communicated.

Discreetly of course. Prince Wilan de Hulfe had already expressed unease about the spread of robots to Meridon…

Days of Intrigue: Stories from Esvanovia [Closed]

Days of Intrigue: Stories from Esvanovia [Closed]

The Wife of a President (Slice of Life)

A Midnight Post (Slice of Life)

Midnight in the Garden [Political]

The Sin House Stories [Political]

Lempertshausen. (Slice of Life)

The Kill List [Political]

More than a Difference of Opinion (Political)

Hotline Omiskan (Intrigue/Politics?)

In From the Cold (Intrigue/Political)

The False Baron (Military/Political)

An Old Man’s War (Intrigue/Political)

Everything Falls Into Place (Political/Intrigue)

It’s just a job. (SoL/Intrigue)

New Rookie Nurse (slice of life)

First Taste of Ambrosia (Intrigue)

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