A Kingdom Implodes (IC, SC ONLY)

[Nouvel Acadie]

This RP is designed for member nations of the Sovereign Charter, with the purpose of explaining the former CTE status of the Royaume of Nouvel Acadie and its eventual re-establishment elsewhere in the Region.

Basic rules: IC only; SC only; MT; No aliens or anthropormorphic beings (sorry!).

NO God-Modding. All posts should be consistent with other nations' canon; in fact, this RP should flow so as to help nations in the SC expand or elucidate on their activities since Nouvel Acadie's former CTE.

As far as a timeline is concerned, the initial post (which follows) takes place prior to the Acadien CTE, but after the arrival of numerous nations in the area formerly known as the Empire of the Green Basilisk in northeast Archon, after that nation's government collapsed in the Great Quake.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Queen Marie-Collette arrived in the Great Room of the Palace after the rest of the Royal Council had assembled. Normally a tough, strong-willed Monarch, she was clearly tired, even to the point of looking frail. She quetly but firmly noted out loud that several members were missing: Duchess Isabelle d'Orléans, and Duke Henri and Duchess Jeanne of the newly-formed Duchy of St-Denis, were unable to make the trip. Both duchies lay in the lands of the former Green Basilisk, and the aftershocks that continued in the months following the Great Quake had managed to render the bridges, roads, and rails connecting these two duchies to the rest of the Royaume impassible. Even the new port of Labourde, painstakingly rebuilt under Isabelle, had experienced damage so severe that shipments through the harbor were limited to only the tiniest of crafts.

Even worse, food had become scarce in the western quake-ravaged lands. Reports of protests - and even riots - in the western cities of Labourde and Mont Vert had reached the Palace. The harvest in the Duchy of Picardie - the breadbasket of the Royaume - was disastrous. If not for food imports coming through the Free City of Pointe d'Est, the entire Royaume would be in crisis.

"Pierre-René," the Queen immediately began, "can you explain to this Council precisely what has happened to our agricultural businesses this year?

"Yes, My Lady," the normally shy and reclusive Duke responded. "We have lost everything throughout the Duchy. We noted this spring that nothing seemed quite right...the wheat stalks were multi-branched, thick and hard; the potato branches were oddly twisted, and the leaves stunted; our beef cattle and dairy cows gave birth to stillborn calves all spring. None of our chicken's eggshells were strong enough to last until the chicks hatched. It was a like a curse had struck the entire land, and that's why we requested the assistance of Dianne LaBarre. I'm afraid we have lost more than 90% of the animal and crop harvest this year."

Dianne LaBarre was the Royaume's Minister of Health, and she, too had been summoned to this meeting. The Queen turned to her to ask for her report.

"My Lady, and members of the Council...we have run many tests on the animals, the crops, the soil, and the waters of the Duchy of Picardie, and the tests all point to a single source: the effects of radiation from the weapons detonated over Kudalia by New Aersquire during the War of Cold Sand. The prevailing winds sent the fallout directly onto Acadien lands, and we are seeing the result of that fallout all over Picardie. I fear there is little we can do except allow time and nature to heal itself."

The Queen responded by outlining a number of options, including increasing imports through the port of Pointe d'Est, identifying new routes to the western and to deliver supplies, and the possibility of taking some lands from other Duchies to be pressed into immediate agricultural use. This last suggestion struck a raw nerve in at least one Duke.

"My Lady,"began Edouard, Duke of Lorraine, I fear the time has come for me to make some very unpleasant observations."

Edouard, the oldest and most conservative and nationalistic of the Dukes, had the rapt attention of the room.

I chose to become a founding Duke of this Kingdom under your late husband, King Thomas. We had all agreed at the time that this was to be a French Kingdom, a restoration of the French nobility, and a Kingdom built on the glory of French Culture. As we have expanded west, I have watched people groups with no affinity for our culture being added with dizzying speed: Basilines, Euskara, Yolkians, Covenetians....we have two Duchies that are minority French, one of which has a Duchess who is Yolkian, not french at all..."

He was, of course, referring to Gianna Grau, now renamed Jeanne, the heir to the Yolkian Monarchy, who had been granted a duchy by the Queen herself.

"...And now, we are apparently worried about sending more arms, more support, more money, more food, more of everything, to these foreign dogs in the west - and expropriating our hereditary private property to do so. This is not the Nouvel Acadie I signed up for!," he yelled, slamming his fist on the table in a manner that was uncharacteristic in the presence of the Queen.

As the Queen began to respond him, Edouard stood up and stated firmly that "The Duchy of Lorraine will not be a part of this treason to the principles of this Kingdom, and if need be, we will carry on the Acadien heritage alone, without any of you! ", and red-faced in anger, he turned and left the room.

The Council sat in stunned disbelief. For the first time in her reign, the Queen appeared too tired to issue a rebuttal to defiance.

[Nouvel Acadie]

[Nouvel Acadie]

Grand-Vignobles, Duchy of Lorraine, Royaume de Nouvel Acadie -

Édouard, Duke of Lorraine, was fuming as he paced his palace floor. At 78, he was the oldest Duke in the Royaume, and he relished his reputation as the most "francophile" and conservative of the Royal Council.

"I can not deal with this anymore," the Duke practically spat. "This Kingdom is no longer the French glory we envisioned when we started...I am tired of the constant accommodation of these foreign groups who have no interest in promoting our way of life."

He paced the floor, a local cabernet vintage in his hand, passing by the blue and gold tapestries of fleur-de-lis that draped the walls of his stone castle. He gazed out of the window and surveyed mile upon mile of vineyards, wondering what would happen if the Royal Council took his lands for basic agricultural needs, as the Queen had suggested, in order to feed the Basilines and Yolkian masses in the western reaches of the Kingdom. Surveying the productive vineyards he had overseen and nurtured for years, his anger festered as he entertained the Queen's thoughts of converting these lands to more pedestrian pursuits.

"No!," he finally yelled, as he threw his wine glass against the fireplace. We will not give in to this. This whole damned Kingdom is falling apart, and I will not watch what we have built destroyed by these assimilationists!

Édouard called in his palace guard.

"We are going it alone. The Duchy of Lorraine will not participate in this dilution of French Culture by Gaspé. Our first task is to cleanse this nation of foreigners. Send the palace guard to Sables-Rosée tomorrow morning. Eliminate the Bratzul who dwell there. They are foreign, and, therefore, enemies of the Duchy of Lorraine."

The Palace guardsmen nodded in assent, and turned to carry out the Duke's orders.

[Iryllia]

Sables-Rosée, Duchy of Lorraine, Royaume de Nouvel Acadie 06:00, La Belle Street

Early to rise, early to bed. Wonderful sunrise and barley any sunset. Bars of light streamed into the dusty room, painting the covers gold. Wilhelm stirred, throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed with a grunt. While the weather may be beautiful here it didn't make a man anymore of a morning person, which Wilhelm was not and by no means ever would be. He stumbled about the tiny apartment, slowly making his way through the morning process: Get up, wash, get dressed, eat, drink then wake up.

Wilhelm was a fisherman, had been for fifteen odd years now. He'd been around, working in Prajul, Oceanion and other such places he'd ended up here via a cargo ship and an illegitimate passport. Mumbling under his breath in Iryllian, he stumbled out into the town, a thin early morning mist hung lazily in the streets which were deserted of both traffic and pedestrians. Pleasant, clear and quiet. He began to make his way through the meandering streets towards the dock.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Only two main roads lead in and out of Sables-Rosée, La Rue du Mer, and l'Autoroute Lorrainais. Rue du mer lead to the city of Moselle, and then on to the capital city Gaspé, and l'Autoroute Lorrainais lead right to the heart of Lorraine itself. A criss-cross of poorly laid out streets and alleyways lie between, with clusters of homes and apartments (more like tenements) and a tight, uncoordinated business district. the Royaume never pad much attention to Sables-Rosée, being an enclave of working class Bratzul and a dumping ground for less-attractive commercial pursuits that wouldn't meld nicely with finer suburbs and developments.

Yves Toussaint had been the loyal Captain of the Guard for years, dutifully keeping order in the rest of the Duchy of Lorraine. Now, he was in charge of a task to rid the Duchy of its 'less desirable" elements. As dawn broke over the enclave, Yves began marching his Guard along l'Autoroute Lorrainais, towards the populous city center.

"Our orders are clear," he informed his men. Round up every person you see, and move them towards the docks. Inform them they are to depart immediately. To encourage them, destroy the business district. Break windows, trash stores, set fire where appropriate. Fire shots. Scare these dogs into fleeing, and our job will be that much easier."

Shortly after dawn, the destruction of Sables-Rosée had begun.

[Saorsain]

Sables-Rosée, Duchy of Lorraine, Royaume de Nouvel Acadie 06:40 am, la Riviere Street, Business District.

A freckled, red haired woman hastily chops meat and tosses the chunks into a pan, shaking the pan, creating a loud sizzling echo in the small open kitchen of the Pub-styled restaurant. She wipes her hands on her apron and moves on to various veggies, she looks at the clock and shakes her head.

"Elnora dearie! gie yer turd snipper oot here an' pit oan yer apron. we open in twintie minutes. today will be a thrang day, Hoorie up." She bellows into the back of the store. A few faces look in from the pedestrians on the street, hearing her loud voice through the glass. A young girl walks into the kitchen, putting up her red hair in a pony tail. She pours a cup of coffee and yawns, turning a neon sign on to 'Open'.

"Everythin' will be okay, mum. ye dornt need tae gie sae stressed." The young girl softly mutters out, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Elnora, ye kno I cannae speck a word o french. we cannae survive if ye nae ready fur a hard days wark in th' morn. pass me 'at blok ay cheese."

"Wa dornt ye learn french than, mum? Ah have a life other than workin' haur with ye.... Aye, Imagine ye, mah mum, Brenda, 'spikin french."

"'at will be th' end ay days." The woman responds.They both giggle and snort with laughter at the thought of Brenda learning french. Elnora passes the brick of cheese as a couple of Acadien business men and women enter the store, looking at the menu. Elnora welcomes the first customers of the day in French,

"Bonjour Madam et Monsieur, Que voulez vous?" She takes down the order and begins serving the customers of la Riviere Street. They both are completely unaware of the group of Toussaint's Guards heading right for the storefront. Their faces are stern with duty, and their strides are swift and synchronized with pride. Their boots tap loudly on the pavement as onlookers notice.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Pointe d'Est, Nouvel Acadie...

The Free City of Pointe d'Est was somewhat of an anomaly in Nouvel Acadie. Originally an enclave of the Island nation of Prajuhl, the area fell under Acadien control during the War of Cold Sand. Rather than being incorporated into a Duchy, the Royal Council decided to leave the small port as a free-wheeling, tax-free, nearly anarchic port, and it quickly became the commercial hub of the entire Royaume. Because of its cosmopolitan trading nature, one could walk the congested streets and hear Iryllian, Bandian, Oceani, Covenetian, Gaelic, and other languages and dialects in addition to French. French language laws did not exist in Point d'Est, and many people spoke multiple languages.

The Royal Council permitted business entities and citizens there to elect non-voting members to the Royal Council to insure that any major concerns were heard. August Hovemayer, the owner of the free city's largest marina and port facility and an ethnic Bratzul (Prajuhli), was an early supporter of the Acadien take-over of Point d'Est due to the inefficiency (and coming collapse) of the Prajuhli government. As such, he was a natural choice to be chosen by the business community to represent their interests at the Council. So when he called the Palace at 7:30 in the morning in a panic, The Queen's Chief of Staff thought it wise to put him directly through to the Queen.

"Mssr. Hovemayer, what is troubling you at this hour?" asked the Queen.

"My Lady, I apologize for calling at this hour, but something is very wrong here. As you know, we ordered additional food supplies, and they arrived quite early this morning. I thought it best to send the first shipments directly to the capital, so we dispatched a number of drivers on the main highway through Lorraine to get there. My first two drivers called me and told me there are roadblocks set up at the border of Lorraine, and the guards there told them that only ethnic Acadiens would be permitted to drive through the duchy. They were told to return to port with the food shipments."

The Queen's voice was icy. "We have issued no edict from this Palace or from the Royal Council," Mssr. Hovemayer. "Are you certain that this wasn't some sort of robbery attempt?"

"No, My Lady, and there's more...In the middle of this, I received a panicked phone call from a Bratzul businessman in Sables-Rosée, asking me to send every available ship to their dock area. Apparently the Lorraine Guard is ransacking the city and driving the residents to the docks in an effort to remove them all. There is something terribly wrong going on, and I'm not sure why."

[Oceanion]

***Cabinet Room, High Fort, Küsteburg, Oceanion, 7:30pm (7:30am on Acadian time)***

At the same time as this phone call, the Oceani cabinet was in session on the other side of the world. Reports had been picked up on social media of what was happening in Lorraine and Prime Minister Harris Vmon was addressing his cabinet on the issue.

"This is all very worrying," stated Prime Minister Harris Vmon "but we must wait until we have more information. I understand that many of you are feeling very emotional and angry about the news coming out of Lorraine right now. Believe me, so am I. However we do not know enough at this early stage to justify a diversion from our original plan. We must continue along the course we have already decided to take. That is, to focus our efforts on lifting the famine. Now, Ian, what progress have you made with getting an aid mission together?"

"I believe we're all set and just waiting for your sign-off and the go ahead from the Chief Admiral now, Prime Minister" came the response. As Minister for Foreign Aid, Ian Oldman had been tasked with masterminding the delivery of emergency food aid to the western Duchies. "We'll be sending 42 container ships of food to the Bay of Orleans. That's a little more than is required but an overshoot was necessary because we won't be able to control how its distributed on the ground." He went on to explain. "With most roads and transportation links affected by the earthquakes, the country is relatively impassable. Furthermore, port infrastructure has been all but destroyed. This eliminates the option of having the ships put in at Labroude but-" He was then cut off.

"Then how can you possibly hope to transport the food aid inland?" interrupted Kieran Heath, the Minister for Trade. "If you ask me, this entire venture is flawed and frankly-" He would have continued had he not received a sharp jab in the ribs from the Deputy Prime Minister, and the leader of his party, who was seated to his left.

"If I may continue," began Ian again, "we intend to have four naval vessels escort the convoy. Namely, the OSS Carpenter, the OSS Liberator, the OSS Teller, and the OSS Order." Someone called out and asked if it was really necessary to send the Order, one of Oceanion's aircraft carriers. "Of course!" Ian responded. "In fact, the Order is the most important of all four to this mission. While the other three ships are just there to protect the fleet, the Order plays a crucial role in the distribution of the food. With the ports and transport links destroyed by the earthquakes, the plan is to drop the food over the western duchies from aircraft. Hence, it is essential that an aircraft carrier accompany the convoy." Ian looked around at cabinet again and saw that they seemed to accept this as a logical proposition.

"This all seems to be in order then," said the Prime Minister, who moved to sign the executive order to send off the fleet. But then he paused, and lifted back up his pen. "Oh yes, one more thing, Ian. Who are you sending to administer this mission?" The reply was to cause chaos.

"Guy-Pierre Dufort."


***A beach near Sables-Rosée, Duchy of Lorraine, Royaume de Nouvel Acadie 7:35am***

The tall blond surfer walked out of the sea drenched, with his surfboard under his arm.

"How was that?" he called out, jokingly in a thick Oceani accent. He knew full well that his attempt to catch that wave had been an embarrassing failure.

"Needs a little work, Paul" called back a short black girl who was sitting with three other teenagers on the beach. She then jumped up, ran over, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Still love ya though" she added. The surfer put his arm around his girlfriend and together they walked back over to their group.

"So Paul, Christie, as we've done the whole surfing at sunrise now, Ellie, Anatole and I were wondering about heading back into town and getting breakfast? That place I mentioned on la Riviere Street will be open now." Although Louis, the boy that just spoke, was Acadian, he was only one of two Acadians in the group (the other being the Anatole he mentioned). Paul was Oceani, Christie was Coventian, and Ellie was Yolkian. There were a diverse little group of teenagers on holiday from South Harbour where they were all at university together.

Louis had taken them from Sables-Rosée, where they were all staying at his family's villa, to the beach via speedboat, and it was in this that he now drove them back. They'd only been gone from the city a couple of hours, but when they arrived at the docks, it was like a different world. People were huddled on the dockside, men and women, young and old, with only two things in common. They were all from ethic minorities, and they all looked terrified.

"What the hell?" muttered Louis under his breath.


***Cabinet Room, High Fort, Küsteburg, Oceanion***

"Alright, alright, calm down everyone!" Harris Vmon called out and managed to establish control over his arguing cabinet. "Ian, you cannot really be suggesting that we send Guy-Pierre Dufort on a diplomatic mission. Especially to a french country! Who knows what kind of harm he could do?"

Guy-Pierre Dufort was a prominent and controversial figure in Oceani politics. He was a French nationalist who was devoted to getting the State of Aebento (a state that, if you didn't count Port Oceania, had a majority Oceani-French population) to secede from Oceanion and form its own French nation. He was at best a troublemaker, and at worst a dangerously divisive racist. He was not an obvious choice to ever represent Oceanion internationally.

"I understand that it seems an odd choice," responded Ian, which was met with incredulous murmurs from the rest of the cabinet, "but I really do believe he is the best choice! Think about it. He will be out of the way and so unable to cause trouble in this country. What's more, granting him such a position may help placate him a little when it comes to our government. Also, if what we're hearing about nationalism in Lorraine is right, then the sending of Dufort might help the more nationalist elements of Acadian society to see us not as some foreign interventionists, but rather as one proud Frenchman coming to the aid to others of his people in need."

With this argument, Ian Oldman managed to win over most of the cabinet. The Prime Minister was still uneasy though. Supranational French pride was causing trouble in the State of Aebento and he had no wish to encourage it. What's more, he still did not quite trust Dufort, or even Oldman much for that matter. Nevertheless, even the Prime Minister must sometimes accept that he is in the minority opinion, and so he did sign off authorisation for the mission.

Later, he would lean on the back of his chair in the Prime Minister's office and look out of the floor-to-ceiling window in the wall behind his desk at the great convoy stretching endlessly out towards the horizon. It would provide food that could potentially lift the famine, at least for a while, but could it solve the problems in Lorraine? On this he was not so optimistic.

[Saorsain]

Somewhere on the crowded docks of Sables-Rosée.

Groups of minorities and foreigners were being herded to the dock which was filling up exponentially. Two bright red haired women could be easily seen in the mosaic of darker haired and skinned individuals. One was bleeding heavily.
Elnora desperately tried to wrap her apron around her mothers head which was bleeding from multiple lacerations. Her mother responded by pushing her daughters apron off her head and giving her a fierce look.

"Git yer bloddy hans aff me, Elnora."

"But mum, yer bleedin' loch th' rain. Ye hae bits ay glass in yer hair. Whit if ye loose tay much blud?" The woman grabs her daughters apron from her and throws it off the dock into the water.

"Nae, am not bleedin'. th' Caldwell's had me bleed in th' civil war. Gart yer faither ta bleed tay. It will tak' moir than windae glass tae make me bleed... Yer mum is nae a sprin' pig. Yer mum is a bludborn Loudain, asweel are ye. She gently begins to pull out pieces of broken glass from her scalp and face. Fresh crimson blood drying on her fair skin.

Elnora frowns as she watches her mother grimace in pain, tears fill up her eyes as her lip quivers. She looks down and tries her best to contain her emotions. She snivels and wipes her eyes.

"Wa did they hae tae flin' things at th' windae, mum? they coods hae tauld us tae leave... "

Brenda giggles, "How wood ah kno? Ah dornt spick french. We ooght tae fin' a boat tae tak' us somewhaur safe. Ah still hae mah credit card an' mah-" Brenda is cut off as a man trips on Elnora, who was being pushed farther out on the docks. Brenda pushes the man off, lifting her daughter to her feet, who is desperately trying to identify the situation. Too short to see over the crowd but too wise to sit back down, Brenda reaches through the crowd of people to the nearest side of the dock. Grabbing a hold of the railing and trying to pull Elnora out of the compressing crowd. Voices start shouting as people start pushing each other around. Panic spontaneously erupts as a body is pushed onto Elnora which forces her hand away from her mothers and into the crowd which is becomingly increasingly dense.

"ELNORA! ELNORA! FOLLAW MAH VOICE" Brenda desperately shouts as loud as she can but her mighty voice is drowned out in the panic. She hops over the iron railing, her tartan kilt blowing with the cold sea spray below. An old Bratzul woman is forced into the railing with such force she gasps for breath, her frightened eyes meeting Brenda's on the other side of the railing. The gravity of what was to come finally appeared in Brenda's mind, she begins to feel panic stirring within.

"Christ aw mighty... Och faither help me, och mah laird help me fin' mah wee hen, Elnora." She prays to herself. Shimmying out farther on the dock, trying to look for red hair. She reaches the end of the dock and stands on the railing, searching again. She catches a glimpse of Elnora looking right at her from the crowd, her face full of fear. Brenda inhales to shout again but a Yolkian man bumps her, knocking her off balance. She falls 15 feet and plunging into the ocean below.
She explodes to the surface gasping for air that was forced out from the cold. She has a quick glance at the docks from below. People have hoped the railing just like she did and are outright screaming in panic. She sees others being pushed over and falling into the water, before the very man who bumped her off the dock lands right on top of her.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Sables-Rosée, Duchy of Loarraine, Nouvel Acadie

Yves Toussaint's forces left a trail of wreckage in their path as they trashed the business district. Broken glass littered the streets and storefronts were now in flame. As the crowds fled towards the docks, men, women, and children struggled to keep from getting trampled or pushed off into the ocean. In the distance, a small flotilla of boats from Pointe d'Est rounded the first sandbar in a futile effort to rescue some of those fleeing the coming onslought. The 'safety' of the docks proved to be deadly; as Yves' Guard Lorrainais approached, they were little more than sitting ducks in a dead-end.

As the troops approached the docks, they formed a line, and knelt on one knee, and took aim.

"Fire!" shouted Yves. "With Impunity," he added under his breath.

* * * * *

Vallée Pastoral, Duchy of Picardie, Nouvel Acadie

The year's crops were entirely lost. Twisted, woody, deformed vegetables pitifully lay next to fields of grain too weak to produce seedheads. Smoke rose around the countryside, as farmers took to burning their fields in a futile and desperate effort to destroy the affected plants, with the hope of trying a second crop. The breadbasket of Nouvel Acadie lay in ruins. Around Duke Pierre-René's country estate, hundreds of starving farm workers were encamped. Those with strength had fists in the air, screaming for some form of government relief; most were relatively still, too weak to take part in any meaningful protest. Duke Pierre-René was placing desperate calls to every contact he had in Pointe d'Est, trying to arrange for some delivery of food - somehow, under any conditions. He was not having any success.

* * * * *

Pointe d'Est, Nouvel Acadie

August Hovemayer was a Bratzul, but had always supported the Acadien annexation of Pointe d'Est. As a commercial kingmaker, his connections were extensive, and ranged from Diplomats to organized crime networks. Only by shrewdly walking a fine line between Authorities and crime networks had he maintained fairly influential in the free port. His mind raced as he attempted to understand what was happening around him - and how to respond. Reports of ethnic cleansing in Lorraine, coupled with a blockade of roads leading out of Pointe d'Est by the Guard Lorrainais, meant that food and goods were sitting unloaded in port. New shipments found no place to dock in the crowded harbor, so they anchored and waited in the outer harbor.

Years ago, when Nouvel Acadie annexed Pointe d'Est, many native Bratzul were cleared from their homes and resettled - in Sables-Rosée - to make room for the new Acadien Military base. The Bratzul felt betrayed, having fought on behalf of the Acadiens to expel the invading Iryllian army. One Acadien General, Rémy Chausseur, had become so disgusted with the treatment of his Bratzul allies that he commandeered military equipment, sold it to international crime networks, and went into exile in Ahalmaz.

But he never ceased all communication with his contacts in Ponte d'Est, especially Bratzul leaders.

August Hovemayer finally made his decision, and picked up his phone to call Rémy. Perhaps the ex-General could still raise and command a force.

[Saorsain]

The muscles are exhausted. Swimming out to sea, Brenda managed to find a current away from shore and help get her towards a group of boats. her legs are almost unresponsive from the strenuous activity, her head dunks below the water and she inhales sea water. The stubborn woman got so far but has reached her limit. She is about to meet the maker of the deep before a fishing hook plunges in and digs into her clothing.
A man hauls her over the side and onto the deck, tossing the hook. He leans over, breathing air into her lungs. She comes to and coughs up seawater. Shocked and dazed she panics throwing a weak punch at the mans face, who deflects it expertly.

"You're alright, calm down." He says in an Iryllian accent, restraining the panicked woman.

"Is she alrecht, is Elnora haur? Whaur is mah dearie hen? She was oan th' docks, whaur is Elnora? She says.

The man runs his fingers through his hair as he sits up, shaking his head. "I don't know who that is, I can hardly understand what you are saying. Are you hurt? did you get shot?" He asks while looking over her body.

She stops and hears the distance echo of gunshots. She climbs to the side to see soldiers walking among bodies laying on the docks, killing off the wounded. Some stand at the end, shooting at those swimming away. A bullet hits the water a few meters away as the Iryllian, pushes her off the side behind cover. As Brenda realizes her daughter may not have survived she becomes distraught. She grabs the man and starts crying, as other crew members help other survivors aboard.

"Mah bonnie daughter is ower thaur, she is oan th' docks wi' those monsters." She grabs him and cries uncontrollably in his lap.

A man calls to him from the bridge of the fishing vessel, "I'm not sure it's safe to linger much longer."
"Aye" the man says, "We better get on out of here. Rescue who we can and lets get to saftey."

[Ahalmaz]

The sound of arc welders and impact wrenches filled the hangar with sound. The heat of the summer held at bay with the open doors and shade from the roof of the massive building. Still, the mechanics had sweat dripping off their jade piercings and tattoos from working so hard and they showed no sign of stopping. Foreigners and Ahalmazi working together on aircraft without an ounce of prejudice. A lone, barefoot man wearing only shorts stood on the cat walk overlooking the floor. He had scars and burns decorating his body and only one tattoo, a single black fleur de lis over his heart. He looked pleased at what he saw, slowly enjoying a cigarette.
The familiar ring of his office phone began. He stood up and finished his cigarette, tossing the butt over the edge. He walks in and sits down in his chair, running his hands through his hair, and lifting up the receiver. He doesn't hear anything.

" Lets talk business, Chausseur." the voice finally says in french.

The man smiles, a single jade tooth sits in his grin. "To what do I owe the pleasure, August?"

"You must be busy if you have to ask what I want." The voice replies impatiently.

Rémy lights a cigarette and leans back in his chair, "Imagine trying to police a city full of religious fanatics, drug addicts, and murderers.... All that and trying to get 60 fighters airborn. I am ignorant on my island paradise. Just tell me what you want and how much your willing to pay for it."

Hovemayer pauses in silence before he speaks. "The consequences of war have had no heavier effect until now. Half the country is in shambles or starving. Pointe d'Est has is one of the few ports left that is of any substance. Lorraine Guard is ransacking Sables-Rosée and preventing any non ethnic Acad-"

"Why do I care August? I can give you my sympathies if you like but I am halfway across the world. Why does this concern me? Why should I care? I want money August, give me a task and a paycheck." Rémy interrupts.

"Fine, but first let me tell you what you will be getting into... I have confirmed reports of Lorraine Guard rounding up non ethnic Acadiens on to the docks of Sables-Rosée. I have already sent able vessels to relieve them but I fear things will be getting out of control. My port is backed up, nothing out and everything coming in. This is a spark and I have a fear it will spread like wildfire."

"You have a Queen and an army, why don't you solve it yourself?"

She is busy trying to hold the country together while her subjects rip it apart inside out... Just like what you did, and now my contacts in Sables-Rosée may have to suffer the consequences of it. I call you because the armed forces are preoccupied with aid relief while my docks are overflowing and with no sign of relief in sight, im left no other alternative. I call the famed and feared, General Killdeer. So tell me, what can you offer? I have the money, if you can do it."

Rémy sits up, now intrigued."Lorraine? hmmm.... that means, Édouard. He was the rat that suggested my exile and execution, did't he? I still have his name to cross off my list... *He flips through some papers and writes a few numbers down* Well August, I've got good news. I have lots of fireworks for the party. I'll mobilize my best assets on two frigates into Acadien waters. Hopefully, your port has enough room for a frigate or two. If I can engage Édouard's forces freely, I expect I can divert his forces on me to let you do as you please. However, this will be public and the only way for me to do this is with aircraft, bombs, and shock troops. I want you to promise me that I won't be expecting the Queen's troops or your allies to get between me and Édouard... AND after I'm done my head hunt, I want you to ensure that I'll not be expecting guests on my way back home to Ahalmaz."

The silence on the other end lasts for a minute."I was hoping for something like a select team of operatives to sneak in and disrupt his operations, not a naval detachment sailing for open warfare.... I can't have your damn black flag parading around my harbor, Chausseur. If it is, I can't guarantee any of that. Im not the Queen and you are still wanted for treason."

Rémy rolls his eyes in disbelief, " The Lorraine Guard sounds harmless but the last time I checked, their captain is ex-military. What was his name... Yves... Toutte? Toussaint? Yes, Yves Toussaint. He fought the Iryllians, he is a combat veteran, August. I'm already at a disadvantage, one team isn't enough. If you want me to get Édouard, I need two."

Another long pause on the other end. "My position of influence is difficult to balance and your offer is drastic... How soon can you depart?"

Again he grins. "For you my friend? With the tide."

"Very well, Thank you. I will see what I can preoccupy the Queen's forces with and try to keep this quiet from international eyes. Depart your earliest and wait just outside of Acadien waters for me to contact you. I'll divert what attention I can... No Promises, Chausseur."

"Very well, Within the hour, my Wardens will depart to the Soiree.... Oh, can I just fax you my invoice?"

Hovemayer hangs up on him. The General laughs and runs out of his office shouting in Tz'tujil.
"Shock teams 4 and 5 to the harbor now!! fuel that attack helicopter and transport chopper on Frigates 3 and 7. We will be harvesting souls for Bahlok!" The Ahalmazi troops cheer in bloodlust, sprinting out of the hanger to prepare for departure.

---

30 minutes later.
Two black frigates with the raised black flag roar out of the harbor of Tetzcoco, General Killdeer Stands at the bow of the lead vessel, covered in kevlar instead of the plate armor of his comrades, completely enthralled at his unlikely chance at revenge. Trusting in August Hovemayer's political abilities maybe a bit too much.

[North Covenant]

Sables-Rosée

Blood and Screaming filled the air around the Port of Sables-Rosée. A massacre that had long thought been impossible to commit in this day and age was taking place. There was no denying the truth, as the ethnic Acadiens opened fire on the crowd of Prajuli and other foreigners, it was an ethnic cleansing of Lorraine. People begging to be spared throwing whatever valuables and family heirlooms to safety or to the feet of the soldiers so they might be spared. As bullets flew into the crowd people attempted to board any nearby ship. A stray bullet hit a nearby ship hitting its gas tank killing its passengers and setting fire to the surrounding fire. Another small ship in the harbor was capsized by the horde of refugees climbing up its sides. Many other ships seeing the chaos simply fled without taking on a single passengers, others still cheered and shot at the refugees as well being swept up in their own misguided hatred. The harbor had already developed a red tint to it which was sure to grow even darker. Panic spread as an incurable disease the crowded dock had turned from a confused group of denizens into a mob and worse yet a scared mob. As the gun fire continued a lone Prajulian picked up a piece of shattered cobblestone and threw it at a soldier hitting him in the face. He screamed out before being riddled with holes “Traditori!”. His voice seemed to echo across the crowd and rage filled screams filled the trapped people. “Uccidere i Traditori!” cried out of the crowd as the mob rushed at their killers.

As blood spilled smartphone’s and video devises rolled. There was no stopping the wave of information flowing freely through the world. By the time the local servers went down it was too late Le Massacre de Sables-Rosée had reached the internet, and #Traditori was spreading like wildfire across social media. The backlash was going to be intense and very violent.

---

Duvall, North Covenant

The North Covenant Intelligence Agency was a buzz with the news as the director of operations Daniel Hope was shown the first of the videos coming out of the city.

“Sir we are not sure of the situation this might not be an isolated incident we must be prepared for the worst.”

“Jesus Christ what is Nouvel Acadie thinking committing a genocide for all the world to see. Get me on the line with Ralston and whoever the F!#K is available now our people are there!”

He briefly thought to himself Christie please be safe, before the next aide approached with more detailed information, and he disappeared back into his work.

---

Restin, North Covenant

Ralston had been informed briefly of the event from the NCIA and rushed to the executive train for the 5 minute rushed transport to Duvall. The city bordered Restin however due to the size of the city that didn’t mean much. Unfortunately, Ralston did not have the luxury of a slower paced ride he had coming back from Kusteberg just a week ago. This time he was quickly deposited in an Inertia Dampening Couch or IDC and strapped in to place before being shot off at high-speed. Ralston hated the device, he even puked the first time he rode in it, but getting clearance and tracks cleared and monitored would take far too long and contact needed to be established as quickly as possible and that meant being in the NCIA headquarters in Duvall. By the time he arrived contact with the Royaume government would hopefully be underway.

[Oceanion]

The Convoy, Off the coast of Haja Mishu, Pythean Ocean

The Oceani convoy was making extremely good time. The rich but sparsely populated states of Hummerland and Brundt had been put on 'crisis setting', allowing for the commandeering of all non-essential food shipping by the relief mission. As a result, there were now 58 container ships in the convoy carrying food. These ships had joined the rest of the convoy as it passed through what the Oceani call the Pythean Ocean. Haja-Mishu had granted the convoy permission to travel across their territorial waters so that they would take as little as possible to reach the Ossania passage (the name given to the gap between the northern peninsula of Meridian Nova Caelston and the island of Ossania).

At the head of the convoy, two military ships raced through the waves: the OSS Order and the OSS Carpenter. The OSS Order was an aircraft carrier, and the slowest of the military ships in the fleet. The OSS Carpenter, however, was the fastest ship in the fleet. On it's bridge, standing with her legs apart and holding a telescope to her eye, was she ship's captain. As ever, she wore no captain's hat in favour of a red bandanna, and had her two machine guns slung across her shoulders. Her name was Captain Anastasya Revere and she was a veteran of the Yolki-FoAS war, daughter of former Prime Minister Anthony Revere, and former captain of the now destroyed OSS Danger. She'd recently been made captain of the new OSS Carpenter, and was leading it to Nouvel Acadie.

"Captain!" shouted someone coming out to get her. "New orders!" Anastasya turned and nodded. The messenger returned to the bridge and the Captain turned and, grabbing onto the metal of the bridge roof overhanging the windows, swung down and into the bridge through a window she's left open earlier. The crew were used to this sort of thing from their captain by now.

"Report" she ordered. Her first mate, Gretchen, also a former crew member of the Danger handed her a transcript of the message they'd just received from the OSS Order. It descried the escalating situation in Sables-Rosée, and ordered the Carpenter to go ahead of the convoy and head for the city. Anastasya nodded as she read it, and gave the order for full speed ahead.

The OSS Carpenter tore off, leaving the rest of the convoy behind.


***


Sables-Rosée, Duchy of Loarraine, Nouvel Acadie

Bullets were flying over the heads of Paul and Ellie as they attempted to haul the struggling people in the water on to their boat. The Christie arrived with another child and they lifted her, a small and limp but breathing girl, onto the boat too. This was how they were operating: Paul and Ellie helping those who could swim onto the boat, and Christie (the best swimmer in the group) going out to fetch children that could not. Meanwhile, Louis and Anatole had swum over to one of the boats at the dock.

It was a Corsair, one of Nouvel Acadie's fastest warships, but it was damaged and had been brought into the dock here (instead of its native Valenciennes) for repairs. Louis clambered aboard and held out his arm for Anatole. His strong but silent companion, however, did not require it, and hauled himself on board with ease. Louis had briefly served in the Acadian navy, and although he had not served on a Corsair, he was fully aware that they used some of the same weaponry. He checked the ships gun and found what he had hoped to find. It had not been disarmed, merely disabled. To use the weapon all that would be required was the key or... Louis reached his arm into the mechanics of the weapon, pulled back the small metal covering he found there and jammed into it a small wire. He heard a small click and knew he'd been successful.

Just then Anatole emerged from the cabin with a handful of guns. Where he'd gotten them, Louis couldn't guess. There must have been some secret compartment that Anatole, a boat-builder's son, was able to find. In any case, it was a welcome discovery. Anatole slid a machine gun across the deck to Louis, keeping a rifle for himself. The other guns he out in a plastic bag which he wrapped in a life preserver and threw into the dock where the people were swimming for their lives in the hope that Christie would pick them up. He looked back at Louis, who had his eyes fixed on the devastation being played out in front of him. He'd served in the forces in Lorraine, and was fully aware of all the implication of the treachery he was about to commit, and his very slim chances of surviving it. Nevertheless, if he could take some of the pressure off the rescuers...

"Okay?" Louis nodded in response to the question from Anatole. That was all that had to be said between the two friends before Anatole returned his gaze to the Lorraine guard, positioned the ships gun, and opened fire.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Royal Palace, Gaspé, Nouvel Acadie

If the modern convenience of teleconferencing suggested a Kingdom that was modern and capable to respond to crisis on a moment's notice, the tempers and passions that raged suggested little more than a bar fight. Never had the Royal Council been so divided, and never had its members been in such disagreement with each other.

Unsurprisingly, Jacques de Guise, the Queen's nephew, was the most forceful. The half-French, half-Gael "peasant duke's" veins were bulging from his muscular neck and arms as he pounded the table in front of him and demanded action.

A quarter of my people are Gaels, and word is spreading through the streets like wildfire that the Kingdom is slaughtering their relatives up in Sables-Rosée. They are looking to me to stand up for them, and I have no idea what is going on or why our military is not responding!

The military is bogged down preventing the starvation of the entire western half of this Kingdom, responded André-Deion, Commandant of the Armed Forces and Duke of Valencienne. We have riots in Picardie, and panic in the west. We counted on the Guard Lorranais to serve as our eyes and ears in the east, and we find ourselves blindsided!

I understand the problem, replied Guillame de Pontchateuau, but I must reiterate what Jacques has said. We, too, have a huge population of Gaels, and we are in the same position. The people are terrified that a national ethnic cleansing is underway, and we must respond without delay."

"I could really use Chausseur right now,", André-Deion said, half under his breath. After a moment of shock all around, the comment simply stoked the passions of the Dukes as they argued among themselves. Look, André-Deion answered. "Yes, he was a traitor. But he was a traitor precisely because he saw this coming. He was disgusted at the treatment of the Bratzul after we settled Pointe d'Est, and it turned his stomach. Perhaps he was seeing more clearly than we were."

The Queen said nothing, remaining oddly quiet and pensive throughout the arguing. It was apparent that she was tired. Very, very tired.

Finally, Henri de St.-Denis spoke up. Please understand how dire things are in the west. We have all just installed the heir to the Yolkian throne as a Duchess in the west, where a majority of the people are non-French. It would not take much for the residents there - especially the large contingency of Yolki royalists - to declare her Queen and demand secession. And it would be hard for Jeanne to resist that."

André-Deion sighed. I will call the remaining corsairs into service, and send them to Sables-Rosée to evacuate the minorities. Jacques, you tell your people in Guise that the Kingdom is rescuing them from a treacherous, traitorous act that is the doing of Edouard alone, and tell them to prepare to receive the refugees we evacuate. Guillaume, I need you to mobilize your own guard and march into Lorraine from the south. This will force Edouard's forces to fight on two fronts. In the meantime, our Army will continue to repair access to the west.

Then he addressed the Queen.

My Lady, you must go on the national airwaves and reassure the people. They love you and need your leadership at this time. Reassure them that you will protect ALL of your citizens, that food is en route, that Edouard will be crushed. I strongly recommend that you call on some of our allies to assist us. This entire nation is in flames, and we can not hold this together if the people lose faith in the Monarchy."

The Queen nodded, and the meeting was ended. Marie-Collette called for her trusted Chief of Staff, Hermine LaGorge, to make immediate arrangements for a national broadcast.

As Hermine did so, the Queen walked to a window and looked out over Gaspé. Never had she ever expected the chaos that now lay before her, and she doubted her ability to hold it together. She wished - not the first time - that King Thomas was still alive to advise her.

In a few moments, Hermine returned to the Throne room, and began speaking to the Queen about the arrangements for the broadcast. The Queen turned to look at her, looking more ashen than ever, and moved her hands to her chest. The room went black, and she collapsed on the floor.

[Ahalmaz]

The pair of pitch black frigates have taken advantage of the calm ocean waters north of Archon. Rémy Chausseur had been tirelessly reviewing topographical maps of Archon in an effort to make the mission as seamless as possible. He is a patient man, in regards to stratagem. It was this keen ability that gave him the renown he earned in the war of cold sands, his men nicknamed him the 'Fisherman' because of his patience and certainty of when to 'sink the hook', striking the enemy. Though, the troops under his command back then were sharply disciplined, expertly trained Acadien soldiers. Troops that gave back no feedback. They simply took orders without question. The troops under Chausseur's command were now, Wardens. To call them a 'Troop' would be a extremely generous compliment. He took a considerable amount of time figuring out how to command them efficiently, if at all and even more time gauging the tolerance they will put up with. In his own mind, Rémy has tamed a beast that he believes very few other Generals could do. He has this strange enjoyment working with the Wardens, in a way that says 'I told you so' to his former colleagues. Every time the Wardens are on T.V. for the long list of heinous acts, he wishes for his former superiors to know it was his doing. As Rémy has tamed the wardens, the Wardens have made Rémy more wild. His tactics are more dishonorable, risky, and violent. You could call it a twisted symbiotic relationship. The Wardens are just gang members, terrorists that end up on special news reports in nations that the wardens don't even now exitsts. They have a mob mentality and a bloodlust which makes control of his units difficult to maintain. More than once, a simple reconnaissance mission for a small unit of Wardens has basically escalated into a full fledged firefight. This instability in the Wardens is what Chausseur is trying to prevent, suppress, and control for this mission specifically more now than ever. Though the Queen and Nouvel Acadie has him labeled a traitor, it is still and always will be his home. The last thing Rémy wants is for french blood needlessly spilled by the Wardens under his command.
The team he has selected has had a reliable record of keeping the trigger finger controlled in tense situations. Each member has had multiple successful night raids on gang hideouts with low or no casualties. The team of 12 is entirely of Ahalmazi ethnicity, a grotesque appearing lot. Disfigured and adorned with jade piercing, skull tattoos, and sacrificial scars to the neck, mouth, ears, eyes. Those unfamiliar with the culture are most likely to think of zombies, monsters, or demons. This will be the first international contact that the nations of the Sovereign Charter will have with the Ahalmazi Wardens, when the Acadien soldiers see them, Rémy is certain that gunfire will be exchanged before negotiations will even be possible. To add onto the mess... There is a language barrier. This will be the first time that the Wardens will confront a real modern military, one of the best in the Charter. Not Rémy, the Wardens, nor the Acadiens will know what to expect next. How could they? August Hovemayer is the only one that knows the Wardens are coming.

He threw these thoughts relentlessly around in his head, trying to find the best possible disembark into Nouvel Acadie. He sat in the belly of the lead vessel, Frigate 3; named HMS Tideblade. It held the transport helicopter he planned to to use to take his team as close as possible to his target, Edouard. Following is Frigate 7, also named HMS Muscle Monkey. This second frigate carried an attack helicopter that Rémy plans to use as a needle to take the two aircraft deep into Acadie land, flying low into Sables-Rosée....
His Sargent enters the room, he sits her down to brief her on his tactics using the maps. He quizzes her with trick questions and alternative scenarios that she and her team may deal with. Though her answers are correct and accurate, she is quickly bored, stands up, and leaves without dismissal. His instinct is to order punishment but he lets her leave without speaking a word, knowing full well it would do more harm than good. Instead, he lights another cigarette in response to his habit. He closes his eyes and fights with rising anxiety. For the first time since the war of cold sands, he is going home. For the first time in his life, he feels homesick...

[Saorsain]

Removed.

This post was fun but didn't really contribute to the story, only making it complicated.

[Iryllia]

Boots rang out on the cobble stones. He heard a glass shatter, then another. There were no people out in the streets, yet he was hearing a lot of shouting. Wilhelm smiled despite himself, of all the times to feel like home, he shook his head "God damn," he muttered. He pulled a tattered woollen hat over his head, Wilhelm wasn't a small man, 6' 2" with a great big bushy beard and a wiry mess of brown hair conveniently hidden beneath the tattered hat. What portion of his face someone would see was creased and scarred, well tanned with the smell of someone who'd been on the sea their whole life. That face widened into an expression of shock, as he rounded the corner into Rosé street.

There were about a dozen soldiers in the street, huddled by a monument to some war were more people, Wilhelm couldn't see them properly, half the shops along the street had been broken into, glass was all over the cobbles and some sacks, which Wilhelm suspected weren't sacks at all, lay in the middle of the street against oddly wet cobbles. He stood, carefully backing back around the corner, when a shout echoed down the deserted street behind him. "Là! Là bas! Obtenez l'écume!" A distinctive crack! sent slivers of stone from the wall against his face, Wilhelm slipped onto his knees, narrowly avoiding the second shot. Scrabbling forwards as a puff of pulverised stone erupted were his hand had just been. He sprinted down the opposite end of the street, towards a truck parked at the end of an intersection. He slipped again, seeing sparks fly off the trucks cab. The shouting behind him got more agitated as Wilhelm swung himself round the back of the truck into a very angry officer.

They both took a fraction of a second to acknowledge each other, the officer dropping his radio and going for his sidearm, Wilhelm, using his momentum rugby tackled the officer, sending them both crashing to the cobbles with a flurry of insults. Wilhelm slugged a punch into the officers gut, causing the man to double over, as he brought he knee up and connected with the mans forehead, sending him sprawling back down into the street. Wilhelm straddles him, aiming a punch at the mans head. The officer rolled his head to the side, causing Wilhelm to punch the street. He then headbutted Wilhelm, who rolled off of the officer. The officer reached for his sidearm and his hand groped at nothing, he gulped, seeing Wilhelm on the floor with his pistol pointed right at him.

Wilhelm shot the officer, scrabbling back to his feet as the first of the soldiers pursuing him rounded the back of the truck, seeing the dead officer on the floor caused him to hesitate and Wilhelm, who was already turning to run, snapped a shot off which brought him a scream and a thump. Wilhelm ran, and continued to run towards the docks.

[Ahalmaz]

It has been several days since General Killdeer, (Remy Chausseur) departed for Nouvel Acadie. He didn't notify anyone except those who he deployed under his command.

It's almost dusk and a group of Wardens sit under a bomber's wing, troubleshooting problems with one of the aircraft's engines. All knowing that it would be sometime before the General returns, they relax and leisurely work away. Some sit under the shade of the wing with ice cold beer and lawn chairs, while others play cards or video games on laptops. None of them notice the lone Ahalmazi Queen crossing the airfield, riding a horse bareback.

"oh mon dieu..." A man blurts out, spilling the beer as he stands up from the lawn chair. The wardens stop what they are doing and look at her. Wearing her Jade tribal outfit, jade headdress with an impressive array of vibrantly dyed feathers blowing in the hot summer breeze. Unsure of what to do, they just stand and stare until a Warden of Ahalmazi decent, approaches and kneels at her horse's hooves.

"The sun sees all, my Queen, Awataket." He respectfully greets her. He motions for the others to bow as well. The foreigners hesitate but oblige, unsure of what they are saying in Tz'tujil.

She looks down at the Ahalmazi, "Our master hungers, brother.... There seems to be more foreigners in the Warden's ranks than our own people these days. The General is recruiting abroad?"

The man shakes his head, "He has made no such order and has accepted anyone that passes his tests... however, Since his work with the Woodhouse Group, french deserters and mercenaries arrive daily to enlist. Meanwhile, our brothers and sisters seem to dislike the reliance on technology and the growing number of foreigners bolstering our rank. I am the only native Ahamazi in my entire Squadron, I speak French and English mostly; this is the first time i've spoken Tz'tujil in months... Our people have been choosing the way of Xola under High priestess Zhira, my Queen."

She scowls at the comment, Queen Awataket is a devout follower of the national religion Xola but she has a certain distaste for the High Priestess Zhira and her dark preaching. She does not preach anything blasphemous but she preaches the raw text and the ancient blood rituals of old. It is a brutal part of Xola, even for the vicious Queen. She didn't like the idea of her people listening to such ideals in an age where she was trying to develop her nation. In addition, More than once she has been challenged by the priestess; not outright but passive aggressively during council meetings. Most notably, for simply accepting a Royal Blue Sapphire from the ambassador from Nouvel Acadie. It was the only known Royal Gemstones offered by the french Queen to any other nation in the world. Awataket obsesses her nations jade for it's deep roots in the Ahalmazi culture, and would never dream of gifting a single gemstone away. The gesture of a Queen of a much stronger nation, giving one if her personal gemstones to a stranger in a far off land for the sake of good will made Awataket hold the Queen of Nouvel Acadie in the highest regard, second from Bahlok, the god she so devoutly worshiped. The queen feels as if she is being nipped at the heels by the ambitious young priest and her complaints about the new methods of the Ahalmazi Wardens. Equally, she was not very fond of the King's consent to place Chaussuer as the Commander of the Warden's and their new involvment with technology and foreigners. She takes a moment to look around at his war birds that span the airfield, his war rigs that patrol her streets, and the metal rocks that explode with fire and poison. Chausseur had made Ahalmaz more stable but deep down, the queen feels the eyes of Bahlok watching her. Being watched, she wonders if Zhira has Bahlok's favor. The thought reminds her of why she was here in the first place.

"Where is General Killdeer now?"

The man hesitates at the question and looks back at the other wardens who recognize the name of their commander in the native language. A foreign sergeant glares at the man, shaking his head 'no'. The Ahamazi man stands and looks at the queen, clearly struggling with what he should do and where his alliances lie.

"Ummm... I-I'm not... " He stutters, looking at the queen that hasn't broken eye contact. 'My Queen, I've been ordered not to talk freely about such things." He looks at his feet, unsure if he made the right choice. There is a pause as he looks back up at the Queen still staring at him, emotionless. "You are a shame in the eyes of our master, brother." she mutters to him. She takes a deep breath and addresses the rest of the wardens in broken french, much to their surprise.

"Gentlemen, You withhold from me what Information I already have. General Chausseur has abandoned his post without permission from the the King. Initiating action with military assets that are not his to use for personal use. Let me remind you of whom you all pledged allegiance to when you joined the wardens, the King of Ahalmaz, Remy Chausseur is not King of Ahalmaz. You, all of you violated the oaths you swore before my husband.... *she looks down at the Ahalmazi, speaking again in Tz'tujil* ...and disgraced yourself in the eyes of our god with your greed and dishonor of using these soulless machines to kill for you."

The other foreign Wardens start to laugh at her. One speaks up and starts walking towards her. "You are a stupid, filthy witch... you don't actually believe all of us french seriously took your stupid oath, do you? This isn't the dark ages, we came to fight for Chausseur, not for your jungle king and his messed up third world country. We have been involved with military operations for years and you only notice now? Its a wonder why Remy didn't throw you out of power while he was here, I would have. If he gave us the word, we would sweep through your palace like water, and snuff out you self proclaimed nobles."
The Ahalmazi man immediately drops to his knees before the queen mumbling prayers to himself as the foreign warden continues.. "You see! This is what the french have replaced. You have superstitious, uneducated low lifes as soldiers. How do you expect them to protect you? We have brought a proper military to this wilderness." He unholsters his sidearm and points it right at the queen. "And now, I'm going to remove you filthy heathens from power and establish a civilized respectable country." He pulls the hammer on his pistol back... "Any last words? stinky witch?"

The Queen had been smirking his entire rant but the man's confidence has broke her composure. her head rolls back, roaring in laughter. Her sharpened teeth revealed from her smiling grin. Hear headdress feathers bouncing from her fit of hilarity. The man squints and looks back at his comrades in wonder. She tries to speak but has great difficulty in regaining composure. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she replies to the warden with a wicked grin. "I must give credit to General Killdeer for being so careful this far however I can't help but find your confidence amusing. *She again has a small fit of laughter* You are but a fresh born fawn in the maw of the jaguar, brother. It is you who is the fool." Her grin is ear to ear, with her sharpened teeth revealed. "You will lay down your arms and march to the main temple for sacrifice, willing or not. I have no use for you but my master does, he hungers."

The man shakes his head, "You are insane woman, If I was smart, i'd shoot you right now but im curious. Why would I march my men to their deaths, when I can simply, remove you with a pull of the trigger?"

She sighs, clearly irritated by the ongoing talking.She raises her hand high in the air and lets it drop to her side. Four arrows come out of nowhere and strike the man's vitals, He drops his pistol, blinks, and collapses as crimson pours out under his uniform. The other Warden's immediately panic and run for their weapons as more arrows find their targets, faint whistling of the stone broad heads are not enough to alert the rest of the airfield of the attack. She steps off the horse and kicks over the Ahalmazi man groveling on the ground. She leans in near his ear, "You have forsaken your king, your gods, and your soul. you are not welcome in this world. Go now, be with your brothers." she whispers before finishing him off with a obsidian dagger.
One loan foreign warden sits frozen in fear on his lawn chair, the video game on his laptop still playing music. She stands, covered in red looking at him. "You can die now, or you can die at the temple and be reborn-" He flails the laptop off his lap and sprints to the exit of the airbase. A group of Ahalmazi emerge from cover rallying around their blood stained queen. Decorated in traditional warpaint, bone armor, and wielding traditional weapons like spears, bow and arrow, axes, and a few carry firearms. A man kneels handing an obsidian sword to the queen who unsheaths it, holding it towards the sun. She looks around with a look of sullen discontent, shouting to her small troop,
"Today, we cleanse our lands of the desecration of machine and technology. These warplanes kill hundreds without skill or bravery. It's a dishonorable offering to Bahlok and it taints the souls of the harvested. To preserve our favor with the gods, we must purge the mice from their nests as preached by Zhira. My husband, your King made a mistake to have General Killdeer lead the Warden's. I will claim responsibility for this, know that your lives will be protected from accusation of treason. Our ways must be preserved, I promise that I will protect your lives from the accusation of treason with my own. If my husband won't see reason, I will expect you to support my authority over him. If you wish to save our culture, our traditions that have not eroded with age as other cultures have, simply follow me and I will give you what you seek. Be swift like the Jaguar, strike true with your claws. ambush from the shadows, and have no fear for Bahlok is your witness of honor. The sun sees all."

"Our Master hungers," the troop responds. The Queen nods, and the troop disperses, sprinting without a sound into the shadow provided by the setting sun. The Wardens are unaware of the imminent doom. The Queen climbs back onto her horse and rubs the thick blood off the blue sapphire that hung around her neck. She holds it to her heart, only now feeling guilt for not seeing why the Acadiens wanted him for treason and how Awataket was treated with kindness even though she denied the wishes of a much stronger nation. She has learned a lot in the past years about the other nations of the world and how different she actually is to them but only now understands how much mercy she was shown. As guilt fills her mind, hoping that General Killdeer doesn't cause the Acadien Queen anymore grief, she is completely unaware of the her well being and failing health. Awataket gallops back to her stone palace while her nightwalkers quench their blades.

[North Covenant]

Ralston's head was spinning as the train entered the NCIA building. Nausea would soon follow the dizziness and if he was lucky it would end there. The train was more like a massive pneumatic tube than a conventional train. Its efficiency was the appeal of the train being able to travel uninterrupted and at speeds far faster than commercial trains and some industrial trains. Luckily the train was a way of traveling discreetly so the terminal only had a few guards and aides in the station as the train arrived. He would be saved from any stay shots of how pale his normally olive skin was after the journey. The only issue with the system was it did not allow many people to come with him on the train only a single guard and an aide had been able to fit into the small car with him. The guard was already moving to get security teams synched up with the president, while his aide had passed out and didn't look like they would be waking up for quite some time let alone walk. As he left his seat he grabbed the aide's tablet making a quick gesture to his guard about that incapacitated man.

As he exited the train his composure was returning. His unsteady legs were the only thing giving away the fact that he was in any discomfort. A few strides later and even that was gone. He handed the tablet over to one of the aides waiting in the station giving them a few seconds to punch in their code to the tablet and gaining the relevant information. Ralston stared at them for a second mentally noting a spark of ambition and intellect in their eyes as she quickly analyzed the information she was given on the situation at hand. Ms. Tesa Diamond, he thought to himself, I'll have to watch out for her in the future. Suddenly he noticed that she had also been sizing up the president, not in awe, but as if looking for a weakness. Ralston's normally stoic and unchanging face broke to reveal a Cheshire grin. Hopefully I'll be out of politics by then. I would not like to see this woman with power behind her. he thought as he chuckled to himself, leaving the aide confused by his sudden grin.

As the President's new entourage of guards and aides entered the NCIA command center they were assaulted by the sudden cacophony of noise with interns and employees running around the office relaying new information. The rows of computers were searching social media and the internet amused Ralston as it gave the room the appearance of a start-up company instead of a government agency. A large conference room hung above the center where director Daniel Hope was coordinating the situation along with the Chief Aedile Nasim Zanya.

“Mr. President, welcome” Hope said as the president entered the small office. “I just got off the phone with our ambassador to Nouvel Acadie he says that the whole country seems to be in the dark, over what's happening in Lorraine. There seems to be similar outbursts against minorities and foreigners throughout the country but they seem to be mostly localized and not organized like the systematic attacks in Lorraine.

Our embassy and others”, Chief Aedile Zanya cut in, “are currently being flooded by expatriates and foreign nationals asking for asylum. It seems even worse at our consulate in Point d’Est.”

“Thank you Director Hope, what about our Consulates in Orleans and Lorraine?” Ralston replied.

“Orleans is reporting riots but they seemed to be focused more on the lack of food than anything else. Although like I said a few reports of assaults on foreign nationals have been noted. “Lorraine on the other hand…” Nasim said hesitantly “They are MIA at the moment we believe that they can’t communicate due to a communication blackout. We believe they accepted quite a few people into the Embassy, but we can’t say for certain. The likelihood of the embassy getting attacked is low but still uncertain.”

“Have all attempts to reach the government failed?”

“We have tried contacting the Royaume multiple times however we are either being ignored or being stalled with nonessential personnel, our ambassador has been turned away from the palace twice now along with other dignitaries. Their Ambassador is as in the dark as we are learning of the massacre through the news and not his government.”

“The stability in the region cannot collapse further between the petty wars and collapsing nations Nouvel Acadie has stood as a beacon of stability in the face of everything else. We must assume the worst that Lorraine is either acting on its own or worse under orders from the Royaume itself. If this is a genocide of the Prajuli people we must act quickly. Contact the Western Fleet tell them to enter Acadien waters and head for Sables Rosée, and Moselle in Lorraine. We will evacuate any and all refugees of this crisis that want our help. If they put up a fight about sovereignty tell them they have already violated ours.

North Covenant Consulate – Moselle, Nouvel Acadie

The chanting outside of the consulate was growing louder as the mob of Acadiens stood outside the gates surrounding the building. The gate had been electrified to prevent any attempts to attack the asylum seekers inside the compounds courtyard. The building was old but refurbished and rooms had been sectioned off for asylum seekers however they had never prepared for such a large influx all at once, leaving many in the courtyard in the middle of the building. Bridgette was on her second mission out from the Department of State and had landed one of the best gigs possible working in a sleepy little consulate in Nouvel Acadie it was a dream job after her time in Enitami. Now, however, chaos had erupted and the sleepy little consulate was at high alert. She had taken over for the communication director who had unfortunately been in the nearby market when the violence began. He had been hit in the head with a nearly trampled to death. Luckily for him two nearby Iryllians dragged him inside the compound others before the mob had arrived at the gates of the consulate. Her job was to keep trying to contact the State Department back home but had found no luck so far. It was a matter of waiting, at this point, until a satellite came into place and the Department tried to call her back. She was attempting another coded message when suddenly gunfire erupted from outside, shattering the window overlooking the courtyard.

[Iryllia]

Somewhere

The room was smokey, it had no windows, with a staircase tucked away in the corner faint rumbling disturbed the dust on the bookshelves. A table stacked with paperwork shadowed over by a man, diligently working his way through by the light of a desk lamp. An empty bottle and glass sit abandoned on the desk as the shuffling of papers fill the quiet ambience. A radio crackles in the corner, hissing static. The man at the table clears his throat, directing his attention towards a woman in a wing-backed armchair, reading through a newspaper. She lowered the paper, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Nouvel Acadie is collapsing again."
"Again?" The woman replied. The man nodded, going back to his paperwork. The woman ruffled the paper and began to read it again. A series of muted booms shook dust from the ceiling. "That's nice Falkhurst."

[Nouvel Acadie]

10h, Salamanca, Duchy of St-Denis, Nouvel Acadie

The situation in the far west was now desperate. Duke Henri and Duchess Jeanne engaged in a heated debate as to how to handle the deteriorating situation.

"How in hell did I ever buy into this? I've been installed as a Duchess in a third-world country, our people our starving, and they are looking to me, Henri! TO ME!" Jeanne yelled at the top of her lungs. "As the heiress to the Yolkian throne, I placed my reputation - and people - on the line by inviting and accepting the Yolkian royalists into this land, and we are worse off than ever! If we do not receive some sort of relief and order immediately from Gaspé, I am ready to declare ourselves free of the Acadien Kingdom and go it alone - it couldn't be any worse!"

Henri thought silently for a moment. He realized the situation that Jeanne was in. It was not by error that she had begun to refer to herself as Gianna again, her Yolkian name.

We can still communicate with Isabelle d'Orléans...let me call her again and see of she knows anything of the relief efforts." He picked up the phone and dialed....

*****

10h 30, Labourde, Duchy of Orléans, Nouvel Acadie

Isabelle picked up the phone herself, seeing the incoming call from Salamanca. She could hear the seriousness in Henri's voice.

"Henri, there have been some complications...I have been assured that the Acadien forces are doing what they can to restore communication and transportation across the quake zone to reach us, but their resources are stretched. I assume you haven't heard that Edouard and Lorraine are in full revolt, and have begun an ethnic cleansing campaign throughout that Duchy. From what I have heard from some fishermen who pulled into port, it is a blood bath... She recounted all she had heard - which was spotty at best - and offered the reassurance that she was hoping against all hope that relief ships from Oceanion might arrive soon. "I have contacted everyone I know...we can only hope at this point."

*****

11h, Grands-Vignobles, Duchy of Lorraine, Nouvel Acadie

My Lord!, There are troops crossing the southern fields!"

Responding to his functionary's cry, Edouard looked out of his chateau window, squinting against the sun as he looked over the acres of vineyards that spread out in all directions from the Chateau. Indeed, far on the horizon, a line of soldiers was crossing through the rows of grapevines, headed towards Edouard's base of operations. It dawned on him that he had made a critical error by putting all of his eggs in one basket - sure, he had minor guards blocking the roads into Pointe d'Est...but all of his actual fighting men were up in Sables-Rosée, leaving his southern border defenseless.

"Guillaume," he muttered. "Damn him." He turned to his functionary. "Are our troops finished in Sables-Rosée? No, don't answer that. Get Toussaint on the phone and tell him to fall back to the Chateau immediately. Abandon Sables-Rosée. And then pull up the drawbridge and secure the Chateau. We need to hold out. And call back the Guard from the road to Pointe d'Est. Have them meet Guillaume in the fields."

He knew his guard would be no match for Guillaume's troops from Pontchateau. But he needed to stall for time.

*****

12h, Gaspé, Nouvel Acadie

Queen Marie-Collette lay very weak, coming in and out of lucidity, on her bed. Hermine, her Chief of State, had called Jacques de Guise to the Palace, and he was at her side.

"Jacques, listen very carefully to me," she began. "Do not let anyone know of my condition. I may not be around much longer, and I need you to listen to me. When I go, you are the heir to this throne..."

"No, my Queen, that position rightly belongs to André-Deion. He is the King's rightful heir, and...

"No, I want you, Jacques. Now listen to me. André-Deion is needed as the Commandant of our forces if we are to survive this. He can't do that and serve as King at the same time. I need you to send a message to our allies and explain what has happened. Sign it under my name and yours. Prepare them. Let them know that these are the actions of a rogue Duke, and not the way of this Kingdom.

And contact the Queen in Ahalmaz. She will come to our aid.

"But My Lady...that means Chausseur...

"Yes, it does. He was right about Edouard all along. Now is the time to welcome him back. Do it."

[Nouvel Acadie]

The best medical talent in Gaspé moved quickly and erratically between the Queen's chambers and Jacques de Guise, who suddenly felt as if the weight of the Kingdom's survival was on his shoulders. They were offering little by way of explanation, and even less hope. The Queen passed in and out of consciousness, her conscious moments marked by incoherent screaming.

Jacques actually hated the royal system with every fiber of his being. He was first called "the Peasant Duke" by Edouard in derision, but it was a name Jacques had come to relish and take pride in. And now it seemed that the crown - if he wanted it - was his for the taking. But he didn't want it.

He paced back and forth in the Royal Council chambers, losing confidence that the medical teams would meet with success. He had conferred with Hermine LaGorge, the Chief of Staff, who had dutifully fired off a press release to Acadien allies explaining that the current ethnic cleansing was the doing of a single duke. She had also sent an official request to the Queen of Ahalmaz, requesting support against Edouard's traitorous palace guard. In spite of the great emotional pain Hermine was feeling at seeing her Queen slip away, she was still a model of professionalism and efficiency. She entered the Council chambers to confirm her actions with Jacques, and then softly made a suggestion.

"Jacques, you know I have worked with the Queen throughout her reign, and I am beside myself, even though I may not show it. I do have a suggestion, though, regarding her health, if I may be so bold as to make it."

Jacques simply nodded affirmatively, and she continued.

"We have not had extensive relationships with Enfaru, but from my position here in the palace I often run across interesting information that I keep to myself. My understanding is that the medical teams in Enfaru are....well...exemplary. I mean to say....that they have medical 'procedures' that appear well developed beyond anything we have here in Nouvel Acadie. If you feel it would be worth it, I will contact them and see if they can render assistance to us. It is a long shot - a very long shot - but I don't now that it could hurt."

Jacques agreed, and Hermine headed back to her office to send word to Enfaru - something she had, in reality, prepared ahead of time to send.

[Enfaru]

There was a problem with sending word to Enfaru as unfortunately at that point in time, the Enfaru that everyone had known had since ceased to exist. The bustling towns, the road-less metropolises had since turned to ruin and dust, its people mostly disappeared without a trace and those that remained were themselves part of the land once more. Thus the relayed communication never arrived at its intended destination. That fortunately, did not matter as Enfaru was currently aware of the message by other means.

18h, Royal Palace Gardens, Gaspé, Nouvel Acadie

The luxurious gardens were renowned throughout the world as being immaculate as they were extensive and there were some places less used than others. It was in one such place, from underneath a landscaped cliff that a small yet noticeable crack appeared. Dust fell and then a gentle rumble began as the crack widened, forcing open a hole in the cliff face, presenting a cavern as if it had been there all along. When the rumbling finally stopped and the dust settle, a bright light shone from the murky gloom within and a series of glyphs began to appear around the edge of the cavern entrance. Once the the entire entrance was encircled a figure emerged.

Clothed in what for all intents and purposes looked like cavalry armour from a by-gone era, the soldier turned to watch as a few more soldiers emerged followed by some who were dressed in less flashy equipment. The cavalry armour was mostly silver half plate, across the chest, the shoulders, the forearms the outer thighs and the shins, each piece of armour was intricately decorated with silver and blue patterning. Each wore a helmet that shielded their eyes and sported a long flowing blue tail from the back of the helmet matching their long dark blue draped cloak, some carried spears that seemed to be missing the blades others carried sword hilts without the blades along with long glass-like shields although some were more opaque than others. Then came the more traditional looking soldiers. Dressed in mostly loose, dark coloured, hard wearing, worn clothing and carrying what looked like over-sized assault rifles, each sporting three or four canisters full of liquid plugged into them. The final three were dressed in more formal clothing, simple priest robes of blue and white bearing the mark of the Slyph, for there was one thing that united all of these odd looking individuals. The mark of the twin dragons, the mark of the sylph, the Farian Seal. Now that they had emerged, the cavern behind them sealed itself shut and the glyphs disappeared in their entirety as though they had never been there in the first place.

There were no discussions between the group, they knew why they were here and what they had to do. Slowly yet deliberately, they meandered through the gardens making their way closer towards the Royal Palace making no or very little attempt to hide themselves or indeed act in any way as though they were not supposed to be there. No doubt some palace guard would attempt to challenge them, in fact the Farians anticipated such a challenge as then they could achieve their objective that much more quickly.