WFF: Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory [PRIVATE, IC]

by **Turmenista** » Wed Nov 14, 2018 8:06 pm

Important Assets //

OP Speaking //

This is the IC thread for the Without Fear or Favor arc, Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory. Relevant information is in the OOC thread.

WFF: Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory
Mederum is a big place. It's easy for most travelers to get lost in these lands if they don't know what they're going or what they're doing. The entire continent is famous for its scenic landscape and abundance of natural resources, but it has also gained notoriety for its violence—especially in the Empire of Sanjar and Emirate of Qarik, while zealots from the Ophir attempt to turn the plunder of religious icons from Manae into their next crusade.

Firestorm in Sanjar

Current Situation //

Sitting atop a massive aquifer of clean, accessible water known as the Oasis, The Empire of Sanjar enjoys great power in its region solely due to the fact that it has a monopoly on water, a highly-valuable commodity in the east. The Royal Family has maintained good relationships with Tangaliro, among other nations, leading the country down a path of modernization and hope for the future, among unprecedented economic growth that is likely to continue in the future.

However, the good of Sanjar is not without its bads: While benevolent to its own people, Sanjar is highly xenophobic and hostile towards outsiders, and maintains an increasingly militaristic society—which has become especially troublesome given its recent streak of hostility towards Qarik.

A History of Force //

Sanjar is no stranger to force. It has maintained a unified status for a total of two centuries after The Fall, thanks to the efforts of a strong and well-organized, well-trained military capable of deterring or downright destroying most threat in its way. However, in recent years, it may find itself diverting its military away from security and towards offense, as it prepares to deal with a rather pesky Emirate to its west.

An Answer to the Sanjari Question? //

Qarik has always been and still continues to remain a puzzling, polarizing issue in Sanjari politics. It was the only state that was not conquered and subjugated by the Empire, and now, in recent history, it has shown its defiance by expressing its intents to dam the river leading into Sanjar, thus becoming independent of Sanjari water. This has led to large amounts of anger among Sanjari elites and the crown, who primarily benefit off of their water monopoly in the east. This anger has occasionally been expressed vocally by Sanjari royalty, who have been quoted as questioning why "a state like Qarik continues to exist, given the current factors against it.

With increasing militarization, geopolitical tensions, and crown frustration against the Qariki government, it all seems to be adding up to the perfect storm...

Current Situation //

Ever flaunting its independence and strength in the face of adversity, Qarik has remained independent and self-sustaining for most of its contemporary history due to a mixture of natural and man-made defenses, as well as an adequately-funded and well-maintained security force, among other things. In recent years, however, the country's strength seems to be overlooked when comparing it to the Sanjaris', who see the Qariki as a not just a threat to their existence, but also a threat on their tightly-maintained monopoly of water in the area.

As such, Qarik has always and will continue to prepare for the worst. Whether it be from Sanjari incursion or other form, one thing is for sure: the Qarikis will be ready and well-defended behind their defenses, ready to defend their wealth and livelihood from any form of invader.

Qarik Life //

The Emir of Qarik and his family are heavily technocratic, hoarding most of the technology and wealth to themselves as they cling to a strict, fundamentalist adherence of the old religion that used to dominate the region, known as Lunarism. Despite their borderline kleptocratic behavior, Qarik has maintained exceptional wealth due to the nation's rather bloated royal fortune passed down from generation after generation since the fall, allegedly made from oil.

Society in general is rather repressive—a polar opposite when compared to Sanjar. In fact, many Qarikis often flee to Sanjar illegally for a better life, facing persecution or downright denial at the border. For those who stay, however, they can at least sleep better at night knowing that any incursion would have to go through heavy fortifications and natural barriers, many of which were well-maintained ever since the Fall. Allegedly, some of these defenses belonged to former Euphemian military garrisons, though, this is only speculation.

Holding Out for a Hero //

Because it intends to dam a part of the river leading into Sanjar, thus making it become independent of Sanjari water, Qarik juggles with the economic implications of their decision, as well as their geopolitical consequences. While its military is far from inadequate, it is far less numerous than the Sanjari military which, combined with its already small geographic size, would make for a rather quick invasion.

In spite of its numerous defenses, however, it may seem to Qarik that the greatest enemy to its survival is not an invasion from its Eastern neighbor, but rather itself. This begs the question: Who will be around to hear Qarik's call for help, and will they come, at all?

On one side is a country that has stood the test of time, blessed with powerful natural defenses and an abundance of natural resources, all of which have contributed to its drastically easier survival in this age, though plagued with social repression and civil rights nightmares. On the other side is a nation holding a selfish grip over the region's water industry and notorious for its discriminatory practices towards foreigners, though otherwise renowned for a fair, benevolent government.

The Firestorm in Sanjar remains a polarizing issue in today's geopolitical climate. Many people around the world find themselves answering the question: Should the Sanjari be helped? Should the Qariki be helped? Should anyone be helped?

From Euphemie to Akhmanar, Aenara to Tangaliro, thousands of people will vote, enlist, orate, and advocate on behalf of their respective countries to voice their matter on a variety of topics—one of which is the growing tension between the two countries.

by **The Enclave Government** » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:27 am

The Wheels of Conflict still move and turn...
the Day the World Died.....
nothing was Learned...

NEW AENARAN REPUBLIC
CAMP MCALLEN, 75th RANGER DIVISION
PART 1 - "WE KINDLED DOOM."

"The Rangers of the New Aenaran Republic are of an old breed, and belong to an old institution. In the halcyon days prior to the Fall, the Rangers maintained - by force, at times - the peace and amity between the ten tribes. This had been the primary task of the Rangers, and their classical predecessors, the Prefects, since time immemorial. Some scribes in Krayt believe the Prefects wielded substantial power in even pre-Ouirelist Aenara. Aenara knew few foreign threats, keeping to itself and avoiding at all cost foreign entanglements. This left the military largely congruous with the Rangers - aside from civillians and logistics officers, the Rangers constituted the whole of the active military force. After the events of the Fall, such an arrangement was no longer tenable. The terrible decades of tribal war after the Fall brought the Federal Government to its knees, and so too the Rangers. Faced with institutional annihilation, the Rangers relinquished their monopoly on force in the Republic. With fresh infusions of ostensibly loyal "regular" troops, the Government was able, in A.F 110, to finally maintain a peace among the tribes and loyalty to the Federal Government. With this development, the Rangers came forward, again demanding their privileged position in the military hiearchy of the Republic. However, times had changed. Rangers did not force the walls of Taris, nor did they conquer the foothills of Gideon. As the war wore on, Regulars played an increasingly pivotal role as the Rangers were marginalized to specialized operations. Digging in and calling upon the legacy of millenia of military history, the Rangers prepared to occupy Borleias and begin the Wars of Division anew. In an act that likely saved the fragile Old World Government, President Joshua Sallow drafted the terms of the Cerean Accords in A.F 112. Granting to the Rangers separation from the Regular Military units in perpetuity, with a separate budget and command structures, the Rangers were placated with a status of primacy above the derided "regular" troops. In the two centuries since, the Rangers have been relegated to tasks the Regular Army is unable, or unwilling, to cope with. From sovereignty operations in the Iridonian Grasslands, to tamping down secessionist sentiment in the shadows of the Krayt Mountains, the Rangers have begun to forge a legacy separate from that of their forefathers." - Encyclopedia Tsionica, 293rd Edition, A.F 391.

"Same shit. Different day." A common refrain in the 75th Ranger Division, and considering the common circumstances facing Ranger Harmon's Squad 87, an ostensibly sound one. However, the six Rangers of Squad 87 were about to be afforded the change in scenery they desired - or atleast, that which they believed they did.

Knocking his boot against the closed door of the barracks, Ranger Harmon roused his squad from their sleep. In various stages of consciousness and undress, Rangers Davis, Onasi, Arren, Canderous, and Avellone rose to attention.

"New orders from Command. We're being shipped out - on a foreign assignment. Eggheads up in Foreign Affairs manhandled Manae into signing a treaty of "free" Association, so now we get to dick around in their desert instead of ours. Joy, eh?"

As the members of the squad digested this news, Harmon cleared his throat.

"And that means you've all got seats on VB-22s with your names on them in approximately fifteen minutes. Pack whatever you don't want a private to steal when this barracks gets reassigned, and be on that drop ship in ten minutes. If you're on-time, you're late. Now MOVE!"

Exiting the barracks, Harmon took stock of the unusual amount of activity in Camp McAllen. As the division headquarters of the 75th Ranger Division, there was a degree of ambient hustle and bustle to be expected. However, the amount of VB-22s and assorted engineers scurrying around the camp's airstrip reminded him somewhat of a robbery gone awry, with the engineers as the robbers. What Harmon decided not to inform his squad of - yet, anyway, - was the information they were likely to be facing combat in Manae. Between prospectors picking the religious sites for whatever they can scurry off with, to rising tensions with Akhmanar, the prospects of Peace in the East did not look pleasant. Nevertheless, the Rangers were to be sent to Manae; whether that deployment was meant to ratchet up the danger or to stabilize the situation, Harmon didn't know. Decisions like that, in his estimation, were made by people twenty years past their expiration date.

by **Valefontaine** » Wed Nov 21, 2018 12:14 am

Fiat Lux

Firebase Geta, Emirate of Qarik

6 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"The desolate sands of the Eshtar Desert are host to a nation unbound by the Old World's diminishing order: the Empire of Sanjar — once my home. My estranged brother, Harsu iv Sanjar, killed my father, Emperor Samani IV, in cold blood. The public will believe it was of natural causes, but I know of the truth. Harsu may be pragmatic — benevolent to his own people, even — but I know of his crimes. He is a bloodthirsty criminal who is cursed to drive Sanjar to war."

—Anya of the Exiles, formerly Crown Princess Anya iv Sanjar
Shortly after fleeing Sanjar; 387 A.C.

Firebase Geta was among three large military complexes situated along the northeastern quadrant of the Sanjar border. Its contingent, largely a mix of Euphemian and Qariki troops. Aside from the occasional exercise, they actually did little besides act as deterrent to the Sanjari military, should an invasion occur.

The northern perimeter of Firebase Geta was host to a ten-story-tall watchtower, which provided sufficient view of the dunes ahead. Behind the dunes were the ruined, hulking remains of what'd certainly once been the downtown centre of a metropolis. One of the shimmering feats of human achievement, lost to the sands of time.

Not a sign of life in this wasteland. As it should be. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick watched the desert ahead through the adjustable scope of his ATR-M73 anti-materiel rifle, positioned at the watchtower's edge. He held responsibility over the 1st Tankbuster Platoon of the 4th "Black Cat" Company of the 308th Drop Armored Regiment.^[1]

"87th Prince of the Qariki Emirate, Prince Isimud, is alleged to have fallen out of favor with the Emir of Qarik, Zaqar IV. He has not shown up in any of the past five televised royal family events, which has led to mounting suspicion that something dire is amiss in the Qariki court..." The radio, per usual, was droning on. The Armed Forces News Network, in relative peacetime, typically just went on about political matters in nations relevant to Euphemie — in particular, Qarik and Etoile Marin.

But that was unimportant.

As their platoon's purpose implied, Nox and his soldiers were 'tank busters', which, by Euphemian standards, meant men equipped to handle enemy armor — be it with anti-materiel rifles or, in the case of some better-equipped units, ATGMs. They were not one of those 'better-equipped units'.

"Looks like more of the usual, sir." Private Michael Keith Happiness-is-Easy B. Tyler was from the 1st Section (of three in the 12-man platoon) and was particularly a good shot — though it wasn't that difficult, of course, to shoot a large, slow-moving armored target. Apparently he had a younger sister back home, who he cared deeply for. Like most of the men in the 23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division — save for Nox — he was born and raised in Turmenista, specifically Louisa. He was friendly with the others, perhaps a little too much for his own good, and it often led him into trouble, trouble that Nox often had to get him out of.

"It's always the usual, until it isn't. We're posted here for another twelve minutes. Any incompetence is on us — until the 2nd Section arrives." Nox looked to Michael, before returning to watching the dustbowl ahead.

"Right." Michael replied with a nod, returning to his ATR-M73. "Any Sanjari tanks come, we'll kick their ass. Don't matter what they send our way."

"We're not fighting a war here, Mike. We're sitting around to prevent one." Replied another squadmate — Sergeant Sandra Riot Privatecaller J. Spence would've probably made it to some top university in Arcadia, Turmenista had she not been so inclined to get into fights. Of course, hollow promises of a clean record from Federal Army recruiters had been enough to bring her in. Training had beaten much of the belligerency out of her, but that wasn't to say she still occasionally had an attitude with her fellow squadmates.

"And I'd very much prefer sitting around to fighting a war." Corporal Daniel Fukui Waves M. Starr was the four-man group's radioman, and as such he typically kept back to maintain constant contact with the other two sections — this included relaying Nox's orders, of course. Apparently, he'd been an executive at Inter-Continental Airlines^[2] before a certain incident at his job left him out of work — and quickly into the Army's payroll.

Nox would've said something, but something in the distance had caught his eye — passing between the colossal ruins of the buildings, a convoy of four Sanjari trucks moved to a small clearing amid the sandy corridors that'd once been city streets. At the front and back of the convoy were armored personnel carriers, their guns cautiously aiming about. APCs? To protect them from what? Nox thought to himself. "I've got something." He called out. "Four trucks, two APCs. City ruins. Tell the other sections to be on standby." By now, bearings had ceased to be necessary — he and his team had named almost every landmark on the Sanjari side of the border.

"Four trucks, two APCs. Be on standby." Daniel repeated on radio.

"I can see it too." Sandra aimed her rifle towards the old city, focusing her sights on the stopped convoy.

"They send convoys there often?" Michael questioned.

"They don't touch the old city unless they absolutely need to. Save for road checkpoints, Sanjar does little near the Qarik border unless they absolutely must. Much of their military positions observing the Qarik border are actually miles away — I've even heard the Sanjari Air Force has a few satellites they've launched in the past few years." Sandra had become incredibly well-informed on the situational matters in the region since they'd arrived, which was a good thing, since Nox often couldn't be bothered to brief his men on trivial matters.

"We can be fairly certain, then, that something's up." Nox said, continuing Sandra's talk of Sanjari military matters.

Something, indeed, was up. Stepping out of one of the trucks was a man Nox knew too well — Emperor Harsu I iv Sanjar, the brutally charismatic leader of the Sanjari Empire. His blonde hair flowed freely down to his shoulders, which were adorned with gold-lined epaulettes upon his silver-blue uniform. He thought then, for a moment, whether he should pull the trigger and send a 25mm explosive round barreling through the back of the man's skull. He decided against it — being the scapegoat of a war and disobeying orders was probably not a good look, even if it meant the liberation of millions of people under Harsu's regime.

The man was flanked by his usual royal guard, though he'd seemingly picked a very small detail for whatever was taking place. A mere six men, clearly he felt safe amidst the ruins.

From the other trucks, bands of lightly-armed soldiers of Sanjar's imperial guard, numbering 13 in total — not to be confused with the much more elite royal guard at Harsu's side — emerged, taking secure positions around the desolate street. Their tan uniforms blended quite well with the sand and dust-tinged concrete debris around them, which further helped lower the profile of their presence.

From one of the abandoned buildings emerged a man in traditional Qariki regalia, a suitcase in hand. At his side were two armed, masked men.

"You seeing this?" Michael asked, intrigued at the scene taking place.

The two men shook hands, and though it was impossible for Nox to tell what they were saying, it obviously had something to do with the suitcase in the Qariki man's hands.

"Notify Captain Nakamori that the Emperor of Sanjar has been spotted in the city ruins just across the border — be sure to tell him we're not fucking joking." Nox ordered Daniel, before returning to watch the bizarre meeting.

From what he could see, it seemed the Sanjari leader had gestured suddenly to one of the trucks, to which some of his men pulled away at the tarp concealing its contents — revealing a truckload of gold bars stowed carefully and precisely.

"Err, he's not believing you, sir." Daniel replied.

"Tell him he better believe me. Tell him I'm betting my rank on it." Nox kept his eyes set on the situation unfolding several kilometers away.

Immediately, the Qariki opened his suitcase and set it down, kneeling as if to swear fealty. Turning away, Harsu made a gesture with his hand, and one of his royal guards swiftly executed the Qariki with a gunshot to the head. His two guards reached for their weapons, and instantly met their deaths. As the man's blood spread upon the sands, Harsu knelt over to take something from the suitcase.

It was something made of paper, but through his adjustable scope, Nox could tell little beyond that.

Harsu gestured to the trucks, and with nods his men and himself returned to the vehicles, which quickly sped away, leaving the three dead men to rot.

"If it required the Emperor's personal attention," Sandra thought aloud. "Then surely something's up."

"I take it Nakamori doesn't want us to do anything stupid?" Nox called over to Daniel, who was still busy with the radio.

"Uh, correct, sir." Daniel nodded. "He wants you to keep him informed."

Nox chuckled, looking to his subordinate. "Well, 'inform' him that the Emperor just had somebody killed in the ruins. I believe we've just witnessed something we shouldn't've seen."

Fiat Homo

Pink Light District, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

6 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One-Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

"The War's aftermath brought a period of unprecedented lawlessness. To restore order, President Langdon authorized the formation of the Federal States Marshal Service in 4 AC. Trained with a special martial art, the Marshals are the most efficient lawmen in Euphemie, and serve as Judge, Jury and Executioner. Of the many that apply to the Service, only a select few earn their badge."

—WorldWideWiki, Federal States Marshal Service

The Pink Light District of Torch City was home to Torch City's more unsavory denizens, but it was also where one of Pierce's prime contacts in the area was. The contact was an enigma of a man, who somehow knew all about the inner workings of the city. He'd originally been investigating the man for involvement in the city's vast criminal underbelly, but he simply couldn't find anything on the man that could incriminate him. He was either the most clever criminal he'd seen, or the man had a vast network of eyes around the District. The man went by a simple name — Aedifex. Never once had he been wrong on a lead, but wasn't entirely sane either. After all, he claimed to be as old as the Universe, and that he was immortal.

Hues of pink and red neon lit the Marshal's suit as he trudged through the alleyway. It'd been raining heavily for the past month, which had left the ground muddy and dotted with puddles.

Air quality wasn't good, especially this time of year in this part of the city — but it was simply what he was used to. Stopping at a small Sinican bar in the alley, he turned his gaze to the television screen inside.

"Director Donnie R. G. C. Falcone shocked fans today with a mind-boggling ending of his EBC series 'End of Ausozera'. Ratings skyrocketed after the famed Director, responsible for previous blockbuster titles like "Grim Winter' and 'Empire on Fire', was given full creative control of the series by Megalith Films last year. However, all good things must come to an end — which is why Falcone decided to end the series on such a shocking note. Many fans praised the surreal visual aspects and deeper themes of the ending, while others criticized how Falcone ended the series abruptly."

Nathaniel chuckled to himself as he continued walking, pulling a cigarette from the pack he kept in his chest pocket. Inhale, take it in for a moment, and exhale.

An unassuming door at an alley corner led Pierce into a rather cramped foyer, which brought him to an opulent chamber overflowing with trinkets and excess vanity.

Pierce heard the voice of a man belaid with a heavy western drawl. "So, you finally been shown up."

Aside from the kilograms of cocaine stacked upon the table, there were now-empty bottles of vodka neatly lined up beside the sofa. An 82-inch TV lit the otherwise dim room in alternating colors as some over-the-top action film played. As the film's hero gunned down a band of armed henchmen in an office building, Pierce returned his gaze to the man at the sofa.

"There's been a murder at the Atlantic Economic Center's construction site. A young girl, no ID—"

Aedifex laughed heartily to himself, muttering something under his breath. "So, it happens again."

"Excuse me?"

"The girl's name is Erika MacReady III. Sixteen years old. She attended the International Academy in Blume, and her brother is CEO of the Augustan Petroleum Corporation. The man's company has contracts everywhere from Oesterra to Euphemie to Qarik. Needless to say — she obviously wasn't killed at the construction site. Her body was dumped there. Somebody wants to slow the construction of the AEC and threaten the head of Augustan Petrol. Two birds, one stone, eh?" Extending his hand to Pierce, he handed him a folder of documents.

Quickly opening the folder and perusing its contents — it was evidence, clear as day, just as Aedifex had said. "I'll be taking this with me," Pierce began, closing the folder again.

"Of course," The man grinned, leaning back in his sofa. "You'll be needing it."

Render Unto Me

Arslan, Empire of Sanjar

6 January, A.C. 391

Harsu I iv Sanjar
Imperial House of Sanjar
Sanjar Empire

"Defeat? No, your people have not been defeated. I grace your people with liberation, and opportunity! Opportunity to be greater than they have ever been alone!"

—Emperor Harsu I iv Sanjar
Addressing the recently-conquered Emirate of Rumadiya; 389 A.C.

The throne room of the Imperial Palace in Sanjar was lavish and ornate, the walls lined with gold and artifacts of the Old World. The most intricate, beautiful feature of the room was the throne, of course, grandiose displays of gold-coated artifacts — from swords to rifles to Old World electronics — situated behind the upper section of the throne. This arrangement created the appearance of a halo, as if to espouse the Emperor's near-divinity in his unbound benevolence to the people.

Sitting in his throne, Harsu looked to the paper he held in his hand. Before him was the Minister of Defense and his cousin, Karduk iv Sanjar.

"The Sanjari Imperial Army is in position for the attack, your Highness." Karduk spoke, bowing to regard his superior. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but was it really wise to execute that Qariki prince?"

"Isimud?" Harsu questioned. "If he has no qualms with betraying his family and motherland, then he would have no qualms betraying us. A traitor's soul is not a valuable one — he believed, foolishly, that I would give quarter to a man so lacking in substance and integrity. A man like him would make us less righteous in the eyes of God. But I have sent him to God — I have done God a favor." The Sanjari Emperor gestured to the paper in his hands. "And that traitor has done us a favor."

"What did he give you in those ruins, your Highness?"

"A map of Qariki's defenses and infrastructure. With a few air sorties, we can cripple them for the conventional attack." With a grin, Harsu extended his hand, as if to pass the map to Karduk. "I have a photocopy for myself — I have called you to these chambers to utilize this asset I have personally obtained."

"Thank you, your Highness," Taking the paper, Karduk turned away, but paused. "Are you certain Anya is not in Qarik?"

"I'm certain." Harsu replied. "My sister may hate me now, but I knew her well. She would never find shelter or safety in a repressive dictatorship like Qarik — it would go against her very core values. Perhaps she is across the sea, in Euphemie — or Manae, maybe even Akhmanar. One day, I hope she will understand our cause is righteous — and that my predecessor and father, Samani IV, was an abusive madman."

"Sadat!"^[3] Karduk replied with a Sanjari salute, before leaving the throne room.

We will be reunited soon, Anya... Smiling, Harsu looked to the family portrait which hung at the other end of the room.

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Drop Armored Regiment - The Drop Unit system was formed 43 years before the Calamity, to better differentiate airborne, air-dropped units from standard forces.
2 - Inter-Continental Airlines - Inter-Continental Airline, commonly referred to as ICA, is a major Euphemian airliner. Formed as Euphemian Overseas, it was among the first airliners to resume trans-Atlantic flights after the Calamity.
3 - Sadat - Translating roughly to an archaic Sanjari word for "service", it has become a means of saluting one's superiors in Sanjar.

by **Tangaliro** » Sat Nov 24, 2018 9:39 pm

A Butterfly Dream

Victory Bay, Lowland Region, State of Victoria, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

6 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. Karl W. Ehrenreich
1st Airborne Special Operation "Nachthexe" Platoon, 1C-4B-228ACR
28th Marine "Hundred Thousand Years to the Sacred Union" Division

"The name of Victory Bay comes from the famous tale of 'Captain Arthur'. A wasteland tale about a pre-war Victorian Navy Captain that has been circulating around Victoria and the rest of the Union since 8 A.C. along with countless other tales of the wastelands. In the tale, the unnamed captain referred as 'Captain Arthur' by others led the crew of the legendary battleship VCS Victory, an ancient relic from a war of hundreds years ago, to the battle to free the seas surrounding the island, which were infested by unknown leviathans and rogue flotillas ravaging important trading passages supplying the country of vital resources before the war.

By modern day research, it is believed that the two so-called leviathans mentioned in the stories are actually a giant squid and a whale that, in an especially rare and unusual case, mutated into feral creatures following the radiation of the sea, which was caused by the nuclear strikes in coastal Gallia and metropolis Victoria during The War. The captain's actual name is lost in history, but the beauty of a battleship he rid into battle, the VCS Victory, is still sitting in the New Victorian Navy Museum of the city, watching the seas for its successors in peace."

—WorldWideWiki, Victory Bay

"Get up, boy, your hard-earned holiday is not for you to waste staring at the sky all day!" A familiar voice dragged Karl back to reality.

Karl subtly rubbed his eyes, using a few seconds to wake himself, then sat up.

"Right, right, Captain." He casually replied to his superior. Captain Alonso G. Cervantes was the captain of the 1st Airborne Special Operation "Nachthexe" Platoon^[1], and a rather caring and easygoing one of his kind, should the man standing before him have been someone else, he would not have dared to reply in such manner. Besides, he was off-duty right now, it is not like the generous Alonso would care about how his men would answer to his words outside of action and duty anyway.

"Didn't expect to see you here, having a walk?" Karl asked.

"Of course, whats the point of taking a month-off outside the barrack if you are not going anywhere?" Alonso laughed. "Well, isn't that why you are here sleeping on the grass all day?" He was referring to the lawn in the district's park where Karl has been lying for hours on.

"What time is it?" Karl asked, looking at his empty wrist, apparently, he didn't bring his watch with him today.

"It's already four in the afternoon, Karl. By my rapier, you were already here when I came to the park three hours ago, you can't just waste your precious life lying on this lawn like that."

"Right, don't worry. I was just thinking about a few...things." Karl slowly stood up, scratching pieces of grass off his head.

"What stuff?"

"Well, it's quite complicated. Say, captain, do you believe in past life and existence of parallel worlds?"

Karl's question caught Alonso immensely off-guard, to which he scratched his head, then cleared his throat. "Whether they exist or not, it doesn't matter to me. I am Alonso G. Cervantes, and that is everything I need to know. If a me exists in another world, he is him and I am me, we may share the same noble soul and mind, but thats all about it." He declared. "Quit troubling yourself with these matters about things we cannot see through, brother, the present is all we should care."

Alonso patted the shoulder of Karl twice, signalling him to shrug it off, then casually walked away. Leaving Karl to quietly stare in the distance.

To be frank, Karl agrees with everything Alonso said, but the night before, he had a dream about his life in another world, a very different world where a nuclear war never happened. In the dream, he witnessed himself born as a child soldier in a chaotic country split between warlords, deserting to a very different version of Tangaliro for a better life, meeting friends from different countries and holding different beliefs. In that world, he once again joined the military of Tangaliro, where he became a hero of a border skirmish and the leader of a squad. Throughout the years, he grew a close bond with his men, only to see them mercilessly slaughtered before him in a series of intrigues and wars later.

All of it seemed so real, he had no idea whether the butterfly dream^[2] is a reality in another world, or just the product of his imagination in sleep. When he first woke up, the dream caused him trouble in distinguishing the boundaries between his dream and reality. Lucky enough, he is currently on a vacation from his post, or else it's likely going to cause him fair embarrassment among his comrades in arm. "It is just a dream." Karl has not only once tried to convince himself that what he saw was nothing more than a wild dream, but no matter how hard he tries, the scenes of his loss in the dream keep coming back to his mind, warning him of the possibility of them coming to reality. He leads way less people in his team than he did in his dream, but that doesn't make him less attached to the people who he fought side by side with. Should he lost them in battle as well, it would be devastating. However, deep down his mind, he is also clearly aware that inside a war, loss can only be partly but not wholly avoided. Should his team stay on the battlefield long enough, it will only be a matter of luck and time before death come upon them to collect his due.

Karl swept the dust off his clothes. In front of the laws of war, an individual like him is powerless, it may be better off for him to just stop thinking about it. They are the Nachthexe, standing at the forefront of war, if they are afraid of death, they shouldn't have been here in the first place. On a brighter side of the note, the present day is an era of peace, while smaller military conflicts are still occurring around the world, if they are lucky enough, they would be able to live through their whole military service without getting deployed in the middle of a war zone.

I am Hajjar

Countryside of a small town, Qariki-Sanjari border region, Empire of Sanjar

6 January, A.C. 391

Aamir Hajjar, an honest ordinary peasant
The good husband to his wife and father to two children

"I am a peasant who knows of no fancy thoughts, nor do I understand the concepts of you politicians, but his majesty saved my village from a famine while the old regime left us to die. So may god bless upon the Emperor and his empire!"

—Unnamed peasant
Upon receiving relief supplies from Sanjari authority; 378 A.C.

Like many peasants in the rural who lives far away from the concrete jungles of modern metropolis, every day old Hajjar wakes up to the light brought upon the land by the rising sun, today is no different. As he slowly opened the front door of his shack, standing before him is the endless sea of cultivated fields, sands and the remains of buildings from before the War, a sight he is so used to since he started remembering things in his life. Flexing his old but firm muscles to the sun, Hajjar began preparing for his work for the day.

Despite his ordinary look, Hajjar is well-known among the villagers to be a veteran of war who served under Emperor Harsu's army in his conquests of various lands now belonging under the Empire's prosperous territories, wherever the Emperor's warriors go, you would see always him leading the charge with his crew on a jeep mounted with a recoilless rifle. Now, too old to serve at the forefront of the Empire's expansion and defense, Hajjar has retired from his military career, back to his village as an unprivileged but honest farmer.

Many years ago, the Emperor saved his family from an ongoing famine in the village, while he can no longer return his favor as a soldier, he wishes to continue his support to the Empire of Sanjar by being an honest person. After all, it was the benevolence of the emperor that gave him his chance to stand here as the father of two and a husband of a wife, not as a pile of bones whose owner starved to death many years ago in a famine. Hajjar felt that he owed the Empire his life.

He closely examined his farm. The crops are growing well, all thanks to the providence of water by the Empire's infrastructures. He is content being a farmer as he is now, but sometimes, he missed the days when he still could fight for the Emperor. If anything, his biggest regret was that he never had the chance to board and fight in an actual tank. It would be a real honour to be able to fight in these beasts of steel, he thought.

"Dad, breakfast is ready!" One of his child called upon him.

"Coming!" He yelled back, striding back toward his shack.

The Delivery

Sanctum Domini, Novus Concordia, State of Solara, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

6 January, A.C. 391

Claudius C. Baker, servant of the House of Solarus

"The House of Solarus was one of the most influential royal houses of the Old World, their origin can be dated back to millennia before the War, when their legendary ancestor Solarus founded the Solaran Empire of All, the very basis of Southern Civilizations that eventually shaped the world into what it is.

After the War, when all order and balance in the Old World has been shattered by the aftermath of a nuclear exchange and the chaos that ensued. The distant descendant of the Solarus, Novus Solarus the First of the Neo Solaran Empire, then an ordinary South Teutonian officer trapped within the border of a pre-war country now belonging under the State of Sol, believed by many later to be graced by the help of gods, awakened the spirit of emperors flowing through the bloodline of his family. He soon rallied an army under his banner with his charisma and claimed the throne of the new Caesar of the restored Solar Empire in 12 A.C., beginning the restoration of order in the region under the assistance of the many talented figures that rallied under his cause.

Throughout the years, the Solarus family has continued to rule over the conquered lands under the Empire with fairness, competence and benevolence until Julius II of the Solarus voluntarily abdicated from his throne in favor of joining the Sacred Union State in 98 A.C. as a founding father of the Union. Nowadays, the Solarus family continued to serve as important patrons to the Union with their immense wealth and social influence, leading the countless chivalric orders still feverishly loyal to the Sun Emperor's descendants to assist the Unitary Government in various fields.

Due to the rather mythological nature of their return, urban legend about them has spawned over the years, with some of them saying that the Solarus family is secretly providing covers for divinities that descended upon the mortal realm many years ago, and that the Solarus family is the mortal representatives of those divinities. The House however, has firmly denied such legends, stating that these are interesting stories, but makes no sense at all."

—WorldWideWiki, House of Solarus

Claudius carefully knocked on the door before him. His mission today is to deliver a few documents for a group of three living in the small flat before them.

To be frank, Claudius was still immensely confused why such a simple task that anyone can do would be secretly assigned to him directly by Augustus Solarus, the current head of the House of Solarus himself. He has served the family of Solarus for many years, and by his experience, it is not usual where such simple tasks would evoke the attention of the family head. The only way that can explain this is that either the documents inside the his briefcase or the recipients of the documents are very important, to a scale that even Augustus himself will need to look into it himself to keep things in order.

However, having received so much attention from the family head, it is undeniable that it is an atrociously casual task for the attention it evoked. The documents, by Augustus' own words, are not some highly confidential papers. When Claudius asked about the security needed to escort the document, he was instead told that no one was after the documents, so it's best if he can deliver them with as little security details as possible to avoid stirring up misunderstanding, as the recipients do not want to evoke unnecessary attention from their neighbours at all.

In a matter of seconds, a young lady with chestnut hair answered the door.

"So you are the messenger from Mr. Augustus?" She asked.

"Yes, here is my proof." Claudius showed his badge, then handed over the envelope from his briefcase. "These are the documents Mr. Augustus has sent you."

"Very well, thank you." The lady nodded, then politely took the envelope, doing a quick scan on it. "Any other matter?"

"No, not at all." Claudius bowed. "I will return to Mr. Augustus now if you do not require my service."

"Very well." The lady nodded again as a thank, then slowly closed the door, leaving Claudia outside.

Claudia sighed in relief to the smooth delivery of the document. While he did not expect the recipient to be a girl, she sure seems like an easy talker, he has been expecting to be greeted by a tough guy at the door on his way, but apparently, he was wrong all along. However, Claudia was starting to believe that the girl in the flat may be a secret lover of Augustus. Judging by her beauty, it wouldn't be odd of her to gain admiration from the young but competent head of Solarus despite the gap in their social standing and wealth. Besides, everything made more sense when he interprets the task this way, the so-called documents could just be a personal love letter in disguise, which explains why his master is approaching him personally for the task.

Well, it is not something a servant like me should delve deep into. He shrugged, then walked away.

On the Other Side of the Door

Sanctum Domini, Novus Concordia, State of Solara, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

6 January, A.C. 391

???

"The urban legend circulating among people that claims we are housing divinities is an interesting story worth adapting into films, but to claim that it is true is ridiculous and makes no sense at all, please stop harassing us about it."

—Spokesperson of the House of Solarus
Addressing the recent urban legend about the House' affiliations with divinities; 382 A.C.

The girl locked the door behind, the delivery of new identification documents for the three are as punctual as usual. They are not let down by the people they entrusted responsibilities to.

"Has the documents arrived?" An old man sitting on a sofa in the corner of the room casually asked as he stared at view of the city outside. Despite his age, the old man's voice remained clear and energetic.

"Yes." She nodded, putting the envelope aside on a table.

"Very well."

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - 1st Airborne Special Operation "Nachthexe" Platoon - An airborne special operation unit attached to the 1st Company, 4th Battalion, 228th Air Cavalry Regiment of the 28th Marine "Hundred Thousand Years to the Sacred Union" Division. The unit is known to be the trump card of the regiment's special operation command, with countless military exploits in its history of operation. The name "Nachthexe" is Teutonian for "Night Witch", a reference to a pre-war Velikiyaslavian air wing specialized in night combat which its members are consisted mainly of female pilots in a war from hundreds of years ago. However, it is recorded in the history of the unit that the name actually comes from the encounter of the unit's first leader with a lady that saved the unit from a night ambush by rogue forces in 19 A.C. during the Order Restoration War of Teutonia. After the foundation of the Sacred Union State, the unit has been stationed in the State of Victoria up to today.

2 - Butterfly Dream - A story of an ancient Sinican nihilist philosophical thought that originates from millennia before the war. A butterfly dreams nowadays mainly refer to dreams that are so realistic that makes people question whether the dream or the life they live is the reality.

by **Valefontaine** » Thu Dec 06, 2018 8:18 pm

Do not go gentle into that good night

Firebase Geta, Emirate of Qarik

6 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"Our exile does not mean the end of hope for Sanjar. It is but the beginning — by the Moon, it will be truth — we will return, and the Sanjari people will celebrate this day of Liberation."

—Anya of the Exiles, formerly Crown Princess Anya iv Sanjar
Declaration of the Army for the Liberation of the Sanjari Empire; 389 A.C.

The sun was setting, casting shades of dim red, orange and pink upon the darkening blue sky. The incident regarding the body had drawn the attention of the 4th "Black Cat" Company's commanding officer, Captain Legion Prismlite With-You J. Grips Nakamori, who had in turn drawn the attention of the 308th Drop Armored Regiment's commanding officer, Colonel Henry Blackstar II Knight. Surely it wouldn't be long until the CO of the Division itself, Major General John Won't-You-Stay-With-Me-One-More-Day Privatelife C. Bangle would be at Firebase Geta to assess the situation.

Nox stood at the watchtower, beside the two officers. Both were using their binoculars, spotting out what was undeniably the corpse of a Qariki nobleman. They need only confirm what I already know. He thought.

"Now, lieutenant, are you absolutely certain it was the Sanjari emperor you witnessed during the execution?" Captain Nakamori's eyes remained set on the scene of the crime, a look of concern written across his face.

"Yes." Nox replied. "Who's the man he killed?"

"The 903rd Military Intelligence Detachment seems to corroborate your story with their analysis of Sanjari comms. Harsu was, indeed, present in this area briefly... to meet with Qariki Prince Isimud. That's a problem." The colonel interjected. "Man was one of the highest-ranked officers of the Qariki Royal Army. If he spilled any intel before Harsu had him killed, it could spell huge problems for our deployment here. It'd give the Sanjaris an unprecedented first strike capability."

"But surely the Sanjaris wouldn't want to disrupt the status quo and risk a war with Euphemie?" Nakamori questioned.

"There never was a status quo, captain. The Sanjaris have been progressively getting bolder and bolder in their actions, destabilizing Qarik from within. There never was a status quo — only a countdown to the inevitable."

"How much Sanjari forces would we be dealing with — if things went from bad to worse?" Nakamori turned around to the sound of footsteps, to see Major General John W. P. C. Bangle present.

"At present, four hundred-thousand. It would take a few weeks to bring a few divisions from XXIV Corps into Qarik. I've already lodged a request — but I doubt command will answer until we're at the eve of war... and right now, I don't have a clue when that is." The general turned to Nox. "Good find. You and your men should get some rest. I'll be announcing the full scale of the issue tomorrow. Let nobody beyond your men know. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Nodding, Nox took his leave from the watchtower's roof.

Nox had already briefed his platoon on the scale of what he'd witnessed, and given them direct orders to not speak of it until the general had briefed the rest of the division. He and his fireteam were at their barracks, the perpetual hum of the air conditioning unit and the television's usual droning serving as background noise to nothing in particular.

"Guess this means war's on the horizon." Michael was at his bunk, playing a game on his NanStar™^[1] GameBro™.^[2] His statement had broken the relative silence that had fallen upon the 1st Section.

"It's always been on the horizon, dummy." Sandra shook her head, interjecting. Her attention was focused on the TV, news about Prince Isimud's disappearance still playing — the reality of the matter had not yet reached the press. "And now it's closer than ever."

"If I were to guess, we'd be on our own for quite awhile before reinforcements from Turmenista arrive." Daniel added.

"A few weeks, minimum." Nox replied. "The general will be announcing this to the rest of the division tomorrow. We should be ready; after all, they could strike—" The ground trembled as a flash of light shone through the windows of their quarters, followed by a thunderous BOOM.

Flames violently shot upward, rising from what'd once been a Qariki MIM-144 Polemarch^[3] launcher site beside the barracks. The blast alone shattered the windows to their quarters, and immediately brought alarms echoing across Firebase Geta.

"What in Fern's^[4] name?!" Daniel, surprised by the noise, hurried out of bed. The sound of weapons firing away — presumably Qariki SPAA — filled the air with the booming echoes of war.

"Fucking—" Michael rolled off his bunk in a startled panic, and he would've made it to the door had Nox not blocked his path.

"The fuck?!" Sandra practically jumped from her seat at the sound of the blast.

"We're going to regroup with the rest of the platoon before we even consider evacuating." Nox instructed. "We're not leaving this building just yet. Not until everyone's been accounted for. Maintaining cohesion is vital."

"And what then?" Sandra was nervously packing what she could into her rucksack, preparing for whatever was to come.

"We'll take orders from Nakamori, or we'll go it alone. Depends on what the situation is." Nox answered. "Corporal Fukui," He looked to Daniel, who had been scared out of his wits by the sudden clamor. "we're going to need that radio of yours."

Akuma

Torch City PD Headquarters, Morhatten, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

6 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One-Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

"Nothing can save me now. I have gone beyond the threshold, and mine eyes have seen the glory."

—Victim's body note

Pierce entered a certain office.

"You returned quickly, Marshal." A familiar voice spoke up. Warren Epson Millenniumpalace C. Kaiser was the head of the Torch City Police Department's Metropolitan Forensic Authority.

"With evidence, and a name." Pierce replied, handing the documents to Warren. "Erika MacReady III, younger sister of Augustan Petroleum Corporation CEO Shaun MacReady. Attended the International Academy in Blume. As your friends in the lab have probably figured out by now, she wasn't murdered at the site. Her body was dumped there to disrupt the Atlantic Economic Center's construction."

"You think this was a corporate hit?" Warren asked.

"With absolute certainty. Somebody with their hands all over the business world was responsible for the kill. Anything recognizeable on the body? Cause of death? Evidence left behind?"

"Signs of torture. Cause of death was a single gunshot wound, chest." He answered. "I gotta say, you marshals work fast." Warren sifted through the documents inside the folder with interest, before setting them down on his desk.

"It's within the oath, sir." Pierce answered.

"If this is as bad as I think it is, the case'll get handed over to the ISB.^[5] Even the largest police department in the damn country knows not to fuck around in something this big... I'd rather not die before retirement, you know?" Chuckling, Warren lit his cigarette, turning his gaze to the Morhatten skyline, city lights glimmering in the night. "This city's a demon. It lives, it breathes... and if you don't fall into line, it'll devour you. Don't lose your way, Fed."

"Of course, sir." Pierce nodded, turning to look to the city at night. "I'll be seeking some leads on the matter. Don't worry about me," He got up, approaching the door.

"Oh, trust me — I will. You're playin' with fire. Stay safe." Warren heartily chuckled, gesturing the marshal goodbye.

A few minutes had passed by the time Pierce had reached the first floor and taken his leave from the building. On his mind were ideas of just how he'd find a lead on the matter.

Perhaps the International Academy would be the best place to continue my search. Entering his black 387 Pontillac™^[6] Vindicator™^[7] sedan, Pierce sped off. It'd be awhile until he reached the International Academy's campus grounds in Blume, but it'd probably be the best lead he had.

Rage against the dying of the light

Firebase Geta, Emirate of Qarik

7 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"The UC-142 'ENKIDU' is a vast improvement from the Tangaliroan UC-142 export tanks which were brought to Sanjar in the late 370s. Vastly upgrading the obsolete electronics with the innovation of Sanjar's finest design bureaus, they have transformed an obsolete, dated main battle tank into a killing machine. Though still inferior to Euphemian main battle tanks, they can destroy their Qariki opponents with ease."

—Department of Defense Report,
"Sanjar's Army: Warriors of the Wasteland"; 389 A.C.

"Well, I'll be damned..." From the fourth floor of the barracks, Nox had his sights set on the approaching enemy. Traversing dunes, emerging from the ancient ruins of what'd once been urban centers along the Qariki-Sanjari border, Sanjari mechanized and armored units made their advance under the cover of night. "Here they come."

"Section 2 is at the Watchtower, sir — as you ordered. Section 3 is covering the west gate." Daniel had set up his radio pack in one of the bunks, and had been giving Nox's orders to the others.

"Four Enkidus, ahead!" Michael called out. A loud CRACK followed, as he fired away at one of the tanks. The ATR-M73 rifle had significant kickback, kicking up dust as it fired. The sound was followed by the clang of the spent 25mm casing hitting the floor. The aftermath of Michael's work could be seen soon enough — the first tank of the platoon had come to a screeching halt atop one of the dunes past the perimeter wall, flames erupting from the machinegunner's hatch.

"The Sanjaris utilize a rather effective method in their advances," Sandra began, aiming towards one of the Enkidu tanks. "Locals are put into the mechanized units. The most loyal, and best trained units are — of course — their armor. The mechanized units will typically face higher casualties — and from the survivors, they pick out the strongest, most loyal contenders for better units. An old world term would call it..." Firing away, Sandra paused to watch the hit, for dramatic effect. The APFSDS-T round made its way through the driver's hatch, immediately bringing the vehicle to a stop — the driver's fate was obvious. "Survival of the fittest."

"I sure hope air support arrives before their artillery starts firing." Nox chuckled, aiming to one of the two remaining, mobile Enkidus. Taking a shot at one of the tanks' turret, he paused to see the result. The turret practically blew open as its ammunition exploded, presumably reduced its crew to charred corpses.

Slowly, one of the tanks turned their gun to face the barracks. It had been the one Sandra had immobilized — but she'd apparently failed to kill the rest of the crew.

"Let me finish that one for you." Michael took another shot at the tank. The round punched a hole through the front of the armored vehicle's turret. It was almost a certainty that the crew was dead now — anything to the contrary would be resolved with another shot.

The final tank of the 4-vehicle platoon made a break for the perimeter wall, speeding down the dune.

"Last one standing." Sandra took aim at the last remaining tank, breathing in.

BOOM

The tank's engine burst into flames as it slowly drew to a halt. The vehicle came under fire from the rest of 1st Section until an ammunition explosion had been achieved — the turret of the doomed machine must've flown twenty feet into the air before landing in the sand.

"All four light armored platoons of our company are to make a counteroffensive soon!" Daniel announced from his post at the radio.

"Take a break for now." Nox ordered. The section removed their rifles from the windows of the room, setting them aside as Nox closed the curtains of the room, obscuring them from the view of any potential sharpshooters. "How are the other two sections doing?" He looked to Daniel, seating himself at one of the bunk beds.

"2 has similarly wiped out an armored platoon. 3 has taken out several mechanized units." Daniel continued to listen attentively in on the other channels. "The FSS Alexandria has mobilized all air assets against the Sanjari onslaught."

"We're doing good now, but it won't last forever." Nox unrolled a map of Qarik, setting it on the ground. He pointed just west of Firebase Geta. "If Sanjari units break through the rather paper-thin Qariki defensive here, we won't be able to make a retreat to Qarik International Airport."

"I take it we don't have much time on our hands, then." Sandra thought aloud, making herself comfortable on the floor. "Perhaps you should bring this matter to Captain Nakamori?"

"Right." Nox looked to Daniel again. "Get me on the line with the captain. Surely he's at least partly aware of how screwed we could be."

The sum of all fears

Collis Palatium, Serondequot, Torch City, FSE

7 January, A.C. 391

Depeche Strangelove Touchfaith Z. Stardust III
President of the Federal States of Euphemie
Commander-in-Chief of the Federal Armed Forces
Heir to the Euphemianist Pantheon

"Freedom and human dignity have been more assured in this Great Nation than in any other place in the world. The price for this freedom has, at times, been high — but the Euphemian people have never been unwilling to pay this price. The thousands of white markers in Serondequot National Cemetery serve to remind us of but only a fraction of the price we've paid for Freedom.

Upon one of these markers is a name: Colonel William Augustus. He died defending Torch City from foreign invasion during the terrible Cataclysm that swept our nation 391 years ago. It is said that upon his body, a note was found: the Patriot's Pledge. The note reads;
'Euphemie must win this war. The fate of Mankind rests upon the survival of this great nation, even amidst the nuclear hellfire that burns around us. There are great forces in time and space, and beyond time and space that spell duty for us as Euphemians. The Euphemian people have a meeting with Fate, and we must either preserve for our children the last beacon of hope on Tsion, or we will take the first step into a millennium of darkness. Therefore, I will fight, I will serve, I will sacrifice, I will endure and do my utmost as if the Fate of this War depends on my will alone.'

We must understand that no arsenal or weapon in the arsenals of the world is so formidable as the perseverence and will of free men and women. It is a weapon our enemies in this day and age do not have. It is, however, a weapon that we as Euphemians do have.

The enemies and potential enemies of Freedom will be reminded that peace is the highest aspiration of the Euphemian people. We will negotiate for it, we will sacrifice for it, but we will never surrender for it.

We are Euphemians."

—POTFS 98 Depeche Strangelove Touchfaith Z. Stardust III
Inaugural Address; 383 A.C.

It was late in Serondequot, but a pressing matter was of the utmost importance — war was brewing in Sanjar. What was, however, of greater concern, was that a lone Euphemian airborne division was stationed in Sanjar, against numbers SECDEF Daniel Justanother Day Three-in-the-Morning E. Boingo estimated to be in the hundred-thousands.

Opposite to President Stardust was his Vice President, Joy Division Tearing-up-my-Heart M. Neworder. It was readily apparent that Congress was in turmoil over the issue, National Republicans^[8] demanding a unilateral withdrawal from Qarik, and refusing any compromise. The Moderate Caucus within the NRP had chances of being swayed towards a full intervention, but it was always a mixed bag with those bastards. Of course, there were also significant groups within the Federalist Party itself that wanted compromises, favors, negotiations — the worst were those that wanted bribery — not for themselves, but for Sanjar. Stardust despised the affectionately-named 'Dove Bloc' within the FP.

"Only nine times in this nation's 621 years of existence has Euphemie entered a Congressionally-approved war." Vice President Neworder noted. "And the way things are looking, we aren't going to get an intervention approved in 24 hours."

"Congress is in turmoil, but I am determined now, more than ever, to do what is right. Euphemian lives abroad are on the line, and as President of the Federal States of Euphemie I must answer to their calls for help. We cannot sit idly by as our soldiers fight for their lives on a distant shore!"

"Four hours ago, the FSS Alexandria mobilized its air units, without approval." Secretary of Defense Boingo announced the news as he entered the Presidential Office again, setting down a series of documents on the President's desk.

"Then I approve it." Stardust proclaimed. "I stand not with the cowards in the Capitol, but with the soldiers in Qarik, the sailors aboard the Alexandria. If those politicians are to take it as a betrayal, I'll take impeachment with pride."

"Am I to take this as an order to begin War Plan Orange?"^[9] Boingo asked. The Plan, of course, would bring reinforcements to the lone Euphemian division in Qarik, and impose a no-fly zone over Sanjar.

About damn time. Stardust thought.

"Qarik is our line in the sand. If it falls, what next? Imalakia? Manae? The Sanjaris negotiate with force, and we will answer with force. We must uphold our dedication, no, our responsibility to protect the sovereignty of nations abroad."

Into the Beast

Empire Heights, Blume, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

7 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One-Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

"From smoldering rubble, a city rose anew."

—Torch City Gazette
Article regarding Blume; 16 A.C.

What info he'd gathered from the International Academy staff — they were ones to answer to a Federal Marshal — a certain girl had been closest to Erika. It was almost six in the morning, and Pierce hadn't slept at all. This, of course, wasn't uncommon for him. Training had accustomed him to going more than 48 hours without sleep, so he persisted on without trouble. He had the girl's address. Apparently she'd moved to Torch City on her own, fleeing political repression back home.

The air was oddly still as his sedan pulled before an unassuming three-story tall brownstone house. The sun would rise soon, so he figured it'd be wise to speak with the girl before she had to go to school.

Entering the building, he took the steps to the third floor. The documents he'd been given by the International Academy indicated this was her apartment. Knocking thrice, he waited for a response.

"Who is it?" Came a voice on the other end. The voice had something of a foreign accent...

"Federal States Marshal Service, ma'am." Pierce replied, flashing his badge to the peephole.

He heard the shuffling of keys on the other end, and soon the knob turned — the door opened, and he saw a young girl. It was rather obvious she'd just woken up.

"What is it?" She asked. The look on her face indicated she was, to some extent, skeptical of the marshal.

"I have to ask you a few questions, miss Ziekowski." Pierce replied.

"About?"

"Erika MacReady, ma'am. Police found her body yesterday. I figured you might know something about it, since you two were close friends."

Color escaped the girl's face upon the realization. "I— come on in."

Nodding, Pierce entered her apartment, closing the door behind him as he did. The door creaked as it shut, an indication of the building's age. If the place hadn't been built before the War, it had to have been built in the first century succeeding it. Many buildings Torch City were ancient, carrying with them the secrets of their time.

Pierce walked about the living room, perusing subtle details: the lack of any family portraits on the wall, the simple curtains, the cheap Fujiwara^[10] television situated at the center of the room. "You live alone?"

"Yes. I fled my home country four years ago." She responded, sighing. "Erika was actually one of the first people I met when I began studying at the International Academy." Emotion began to creep its way upon the edges of her face, a tremor upon her lip indicating well enough to Pierce how dearly Erika had meant to her. She stopped for a moment, collecting herself. "Ah. Where are my manners? Please, have a seat." She softly gestured to a leather chair situated parallel to the sofa, which faced the television.

"Right. Thank you." Pierce seated himself. As he sat down, his eyes met hers, and he began the questioning.

"Was Erika doing anything you'd consider... odd? Hanging with a different crowd, doing anything illegal? Change in personality?" Pierce inquired, leaning in with curiosity.

Her response began before she even spoke. Rapid, involuntary movements of the iris told a story words could not. "It was as though she'd become obsessed with... something. She kept talking about something called Monad. Said it involved her brother... she never really explained what it was."

"And?" Pierce perceived from her mannerisms that she'd held something back.

"Three days ago, I helped her break into an office related to the Monad group," She skittishly confessed.

So it's some sort of company or organization, then. Pierce thought to himself.

"Are you going to arrest me?"

"I didn't come here to." Pierce responded. "...and I won't consider it if you give me the location of this office."

"Alri—" A forceful thump at the door interrupted Bianka. The second thump sent pieces of wood flying — someone was trying to breach in.

"Get to safety." Pierce whispered, gesturing her to find cover in the kitchen. Bianka complied, hurrying away to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the living room and had a counter, which would be enough to conceal and cover.

Hurriedly leaving his seat, he took cover behind it, drawing his Bowie Firearms™^[11] .50 Executor. In his other hand, he held a flashbang, standard issue for Marshals.

The third thump sent the door flying open, breaking off its hinges and hitting the floor. Four men in black filed into the room, pointing their assault rifles around and about.

"Hiding?" One of the men called out. "You better show yourself!"

Pierce waited, listening to their footsteps as they walked about, stopping beside one of the apartment windows. The way they walked indicated some form of discipline and order to their mannerisms, of an almost exmilitary disposition. They had made an error despite this apparent discipline, however. They were walking close to one another, which gave Pierce the perfect opportunity.

Throwing the smoke grenade, he listened to the confused shouts and yells of the men as the grenade hit the hardwood floor.

BOOM

In a moment, Pierce emerged from cover, dispatching two of the men. By the time the other two had regained their bearings, he was before them. With a single jab from his left hand, he had disarmed one of the men, the assault rifle flying into the kitchen. The other man found himself unable to fire, his partner in the way.

Before the man could throw a punch, Pierce had emptied three rounds into his chest. Kicking the man sent his bleeding, dying body barreling into the last man, sending him clumsily falling backward until he had his back to the window. The unfortunate man's rifle lay on the floor, and it was obvious he had no time to pick it up.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

"Shit. A federal marshal?!" The man reached to his belt, trying to get his sidearm free from its holster.

BANG

The man screamed in terror. Not only had his gun been torn apart, but half of his right hand had been taken with it.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

Trying to back away, the ill-fated henchman realized he had nowhere to run.

"As a Federal Marshal of the Federal States of Euphemie, I sentence you and your compatriots to death."

BANG

The window shattered as the man backflipped headfirst into the air. Loose fragments of his skull dotted the pavement as he fell to the sidewalk. The event was followed by screams, presumably from onlookers.

Pierce turned to the kitchen, where he'd told Bianka to shelter herself. "We've got to move," He called to her.

The girl didn't talk back or hesitate. Leaving cover, she followed closely behind the federal marshal, her hand tightly grasping his coat, as he led her out of the building.

"Federal States Marshal Service!" He flashed his badge to the terrified group of bystanders that awaited them outside. "There is no threat. Continue as usual." Notably, Pierce could see a black van parked just nearby — likely how the men had gotten to the tenement. The distant sirens, unmistakably that of TCPD vehicles hurrying to the scene, served as indication the cleanup crew would soon be on their way.

Bringing Bianka to the sedan, he gestured her to ride shotgun.

"You're going to show me where this office is." Had it not been apparent before, it was certainly apparent now to Bianka that the federal marshal was in a position to make demands.

Fallback Option

Qarik International Airport, Emirate of Qarik

7 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"Comprising the finest of Sanjar's elite armor is the UC-160 'UTNAPISHTIM' series of advanced main battle tanks. Unlike their cousin, the Enkidu, the UTNAPISHTIM series of main battle tanks are equipped for long-range engagements, to which they are armed with TGK-78 'GILGAMESH' anti-tank guided missiles to complement their 135mm smoothbore cannon. They are believed to be the only tanks in the Sanjari inventory which can pose a real, genuine threat to Euphemian Marshall main battle tanks."

—Department of Defense Report,
"Sanjar's Army: Warriors of the Wasteland"; 389 A.C.

Evading encirclement, Euphemian units in Firebase Geta and Firebase Langdon had retreated south, leaving their Qariki counterparts to hold the line. Of course, there was little expectation they'd succeed — but buying time was all that was necessary until reinforcements arrived.

Sanjari casualties had been steadily on the rise, with two of the companies facing complete destruction in their assault. Euphemian aerial precision strikes had dispatched Sanjari artillery within range of Qarik.

Nox's unit, as with much of the rest of the Euphemian forces, had relocated to defend Qarik City, which had become a contested point in its own right — particularly with the Sanjari forces coming in from the south. The airport, where the company had relocated, had become a fortress in its own right.

The second floor of the airport's lengthy C terminal provided an ample view of the southeastern quadrant of Qarik. The scorched husks of Qariki and Sanjari tanks alike littered the dunes beyond the highway separating Qarik City from the wastes of what'd once been part of the city centuries ago.

Through the scope of his ATR-M73 rifle, Nox had a good view of the desolation beyond the city limits. The rest of the section was off on break. He'd headed to take watch early, after winning three consecutive games of poker.

Of course, there was little to actually do at present. The Sanjari offensive had stalled earlier in the day, the casualties incurred in the assault seemingly bringing their advance to a stop.

"You won't have much to shoot at, sir." A familiar voice playfully noted. Sandra took a seat beside Nox's makeshift post. The spot was surrounded by chairs that'd been busy with tourists waiting at the gate for their flights only a day before.

"People aren't always my preference. Sometimes I like to think beyond the talk and games." Nox lowered his anti-materiel rifle, leaving his spot to join his squadmate in passing the time by.

"Somethin' tells me we're in this for the long haul, sir." Sandra opened the pack of cigarettes she'd typically kept tied to her helmet, taking two out. "Smoke?" She offered one to Nox.

"Of course." Accepting her offer, Nox drew a lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette. He spoke little, his eyes wandering about his subordinate's figure.

She didn't even bring her rifle to a combat zone. Nox thought. Even if there isn't fighting at the moment, I should be reprimanding this lack of awareness.

Sandra turned away to exhale a puff of smoke, before continuing. "The rest of the section is doing fine, if that's what you were about to ask."

"Right," Nox nodded. "That's good to hear..." He paused for a moment, taking in the silence around them. Truly, there was not a single sound save for the distant howl of the desert wind. "You know, sometimes I think I'd be somewhere a lot better if I hadn't been a damn fool. I'm something of a compulsive gambler. You know how I wound up in the Federal Army?"

"It's not a story you've ever told me, sir." Sandra leaned in, curiously intrigued at her superior's tale.

"I was one of the best poker players around," Nox elaborated, reminiscing on the past. "I'd never lost a single competitive match in my life. I was challenged by a man I'd never seen before — an FS Army recruiter." He thought back to the night.

He remembered it well. The man's face, obscured by the shadow cast by his brown felt cowboy hat, seemed to glare at him through the hazy air of that bar. His cards were bathed in pinkish hue by the neon lights above, which cast surreal shadows through the faded smoke.

"He was unlike any player I'd ever faced before. I lost that game, and was left with two choices. Pay my bet of 14 million dollars, or enter the military as an officer. I obviously didn't have the money to pay that debt."

"Guess that puts the both of us in a pretty screwed up situation, huh? You've prolly read my record, I bet. Snooped around here n' there, I take it." Sandra leaned back in her seat, blowing away another puff as she pulled the cigarette away from her lips.

"It's a requirement." Nox replied, having another toke from his cigarette. "Of course I know a few things about you."

"That so?"

"Though I could probably do with learning a bit more," Nox added. "If something happens to me, the platoon falls under your authority. Technically, you're my second in command. I suppose some form of mutual trust should exist between the both of us."

"I guess you're right, sir." She nodded.

"Your record notes you'd gotten into a lot of fights. Squandered your chances to get into any major university," Nox began. "...and it says you joined the Federal Army at the promise of a clean record. You used to be a delinquent or something?"

Sandra seemed distant for a moment before speaking. "Yeah, I... had to stand up for myself at an early age. The orphanage—..." She seemed to trail off, as if recollecting the past experiences that'd faded into the recesses of time. "When you've only got yourself, it's hard to trust others, you know?"

"Do you trust me?" Nox asked.

"That's part of the job, isn't it, sir?"

"Deference towards your superior is one thing. True mutual trust is another, wouldn't you say?" Nox reached to a necklace he kept with him often, unhooking it.

It was a locket shaped like a poker spade, worn from years of use. Nox recalled it'd belonged to his father, and his father's father. It had seemingly brought unparalleled luck to the Fitzpatrick line, until he'd lost that fateful match that'd landed him in the army.

He extended a hand to her, offering the locket to her. "Trust can, at times, be a sacrifice."

"What does that necklace mean to you, sir?" She asked.

"It's good luck. Passed down from generation to generation, as long as I could remember." Nox replied. "As a token of my trust... it's yours."

Nodding, she reluctantly accepted the gift, setting it around her neck. It slid into place gracefully, beside her dog tags. Worry remained upon her face, however, presumably due to the fatalistic tone to Nox's selflessness. "Are you alright?"

"I've merely been thinking of just how much is at stake. It's our first real deployment, too. This is a war — declared or not — and it's a matter of life or death for us all." Nox discarded his cigarette, looking off into the forlorn distance. "There's always a chance I won't make it, even if it seems easy now. We're outnumbered ten to one, and this war's only just begun. I need to know if you trust me not as your superior," He briefly paused. "But as an equal. After all, you'll carry on the leadership of not just the first section, but this platoon as a whole if something happens to me."

"I trust you, sir." Sandra sheepishly answered, more emotional than usual.

Two pairs of footsteps were approaching from behind, bringing Nox's attention to the source of the sound. Michael and Daniel had returned, presumably from their break.

"Sanjari movement from the south, sir! We've been ordered to hold our position." Daniel called out, hurrying over with his radio pack dangling from his right shoulder.

Michael was just behind him, ATR-M73 in hand. "Looks like this'll be the second of many waves."

Nox's focused returned to Sandra, but no longer was it for mere talk. "Fetch your rifle, wherever you left it."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - NanStar™ - The NanStar Electronics Corporation is an Oesterran consumer electronics multinational headquartered in New Lindo. NanStar is one of the largest video game companies as of 391 AC, having run their lesser competitors into bankruptcy or buying them out.

2 - GameBro™ - The GameBro is an Oesterran 8-bit handheld game console which was developed and manufactured by NanStar and first released to Ophiric markets on January 23rd, 389 AC.

3 - MIM-144 Polemarch - The Lockreed Eden MIM-144 Polemarch is an Euphemian long-range surface-to-air missile developed in 368 AC. Its functions have largely been succeeded by the MIM-151 Jingo, and the Polemarch has since become more of an export-purpose missile system.

4 - Fern - George Fern was the first President of the FSE, leading the country in the Fatherland War from 230 BC (Before Calamity) until 199 BC.

5 - ISB - The Internal Security Bureau is the domestic intelligence and national security force of the Federal States government, and acts as the primary federal law enforcement agency.

6 - Pontillac™ - Pontillac is a Euphemian automotive corporation. Founded in 47 AC as the Pontillac Automobile Corporation, Pontillac soon became one of the major automotive giants of not just Euphemie, but Ophir as a whole.

7 - Vindicator™ - The Pontillac Vindicator is a Euphemian sports sedan built by Pontillac starting in 354 AC.

8 - National Republicans - The National Republican Party is one of the two historical political parties in the FSE. It upholds Euphemian conservative values, and poses a protectionist perspective on trade. Its rival, the Federalist Party, is currently in power following the elections of 387.

9 - War Plan Orange - War Plan Orange is one of the FSE's color coded war plans, handling the possibility of a war with the Empire of Sanjar. Its strategies include the imposing of a general no-fly zone over the country, and the targeting of Sanjari artillery and anti-aircraft sites to prevent the Sanjari military from waging unrestricted war in Qarik. The rest of the plan is yet to be seen in action, however...

10 - Fujiwara - Fujiwara Electronics, Ltd. was among many corporations from Utsan that remained in Euphemie following the Fall, and soon became a distinct mix of Usanji and Euphemian staff and business methods.

11 - Bowie Firearms - The Bowie Firearms Corporation is among the largest consumer and military firearm manufacturers in the FSE. While an ancient pre-war giant in its own right, the company is at risk of buyout from the FEE's rapidly-rising multinational arms conglomerates, in particularly the Katzburg-Schwarne Group.

by **Turmenista** » Sun Dec 09, 2018 12:19 am

Blackstar

Thet Pyramid Complex^[1], Djarzurma, Akhmanar Republic

7 January, A.C. 391

CPT. Atum Hotepth-Ptah of Yevosh
2nd Armored Platoon "Golden Gods"
21st Armored "Sun Charioteers" Division

The Oath of the Charioteer is recited by the Platoon Commanding Officer shortly before an operation, during ceremonies, or after operations. All Charioteers are to know this Oath by heart and recite it with vigor and energy when ordered to do so. The Oath is as follows (phrases in single quotations denote responses by subordinates):

" When you became a Charioteer, you took an oath!

'On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons, on the blood of our brothers, and on the blood of our ancestors!'

You swore to uphold the values of discipline, adaptability, valor, and aggression that make up the Sun Charioteers.

'Even to our dying breaths, we shall live on as Akhmanar's greatest defenders!'

Those who break this oath are not worthy of this mantle, but are worthy of death and ridicule.

'But we are worthy! We are immortal!'

Victory is secured not from the throne, but from the frontlines.

'And with this oath, we shall grind our enemies into dust!'

And continue our glorious march to victory! "

This is typically accompanied by the battle cry of the Sun Charioteers.

—"Oath of the Sun Charioteers", Officer's Manual

If there was any definition for a "bad day," then this, in Captain Atum Hotep-Ptah's eyes, would surely fit the description.

While the view flying over the Great Pyramid of Thet was, in all honesty, breathtaking, to see the monolithic ancient temples that stood the test of time right outside the modern city of Djarzurma, it didn't help to alleviate the anxiety and general moodiness that came with Atum's realization of the real reason he was flying. He continued brooding over the matter at hand, folding his arms as the plane continued on its way southwards.

The mission came with the all the aspects of any mission assigned to a relatively middle-ranking officer like himself, those aspects being, of course that he had no idea what he was doing here and why he had to be called. While he couldn't change the ambiguity of his superiors, they did have the audacity to make their trips uncomfortable, yet relatively quick. His entire journey across Akhmanar began when he and his men, along with several others from the Golden Gods^[2] were shipped directly from Yevosh. On paper, they were being taken to an irrelevant outpost in the middle of nowhere, bordering the Sea of Glass^[3], a large irradiated region that took up much of the country of Manae—or any states that previously were around it—and separated the Manaean badlands from Djarzurma. Then, they would be taken to another outpost in the border region of Manae and Akhmanar, which was very close to the city of Sielia.

Again, on paper. In reality, he had no clue where he was being taken.

The brass had also picked him up two hours earlier than his usual wake-up time, giving him the opportunity to grab nothing more than a sandwich and a biscuit on his hurried way out as breakfast, along with the experience of a bumpy, not-so-pleasant helicopter ride to an airbase outside of the comfy city of Yevosh. Like on civilian airliners, the elites and upper class traveled separately from the commoners, as did Atum, when he arrived earlier than his comrades that came in by truck. Then they boarded the very plane he was on now, which brought Atum to where he was now, sitting on a military transport aircraft with only a batch of the Sun Charioteers'^[4] finest to keep him company, just as cranky and hungry and tired and ornery as their commander was. It beat getting shot at and being drilled back as an officer cadet and having one's tank break down, and Atum knew he was in worse situations before, but the plane ride that came after the helicopter ride topped his list of the worst things to happen to him so far today.

A rumble shook the passenger plane as they underwent turbulence, which would've been rather minor were it not for the people he was sitting adjacent to. Second Lieutenant Beb, the commander of one of his subordinate sections, leaned to the side, dry heaved, then vomited into a bag someone thankfully placed on his seat, knowing his fear of heights and flying. Atum woke up abruptly after this, and moved over to the other unoccupied seat, disgusted by Beb's inability to hold in his guts. He rubbed his eyes after settling in his new seat, angered that his only chance of sleep all day had been ruined by a man's fear of heights.

"Lieutenant Beb, control your fear of flying and your gut at once, or I'll have you learn to fly the hard way. Understand?" He threatened, folding his arms and settling back down in the new seat.

Atum had already lost track of how many kilometers they'd flown—but at this point, didn't even care any more about the matter. However, when they passed over the Thet Pyramid Complex, he knew they were heading west now, and would be passing by the Sea of Glass shortly, meaning their destination was no more than an hour away. Letting out a relieved sigh that his beacon of hope was nearly in his grasp, Atum reached into his uniform's pocket and revealed a letter, which he promptly unfolded once he ensured he was out of sight of the other officers in his section of the plane. He figured that he'd go over his assignment one last time before they landed at the airbase, if he could even read it with all the bumps from the turbulence, of course. That was easier said than done, as the confidential sheet of paper nearly flew from his hands as the plane bounced around once more, as he heard a few other officers talking in the seats behind him.

Rubbing his eyes as he attempted to sit upright in the seat, Atum assessed some specifics of the base in question that he was heading to, dictated on the upper part of the confidential communique. The date was correct: the 7th of January, but the location, as gestured by the blacked out ink blotting the paper, wasn't supposed to exist, meaning that it had to be a base that no ordinary unit would go to.

He sighed, continuing to read down on the letter, hopeful that his tasking was at least something not too stressful.


HIGH PRIORITY MESSAGE
7 JAN, A.C. 391

:: NEW TASKING ::
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
CAPTAIN HOTEP-PTAH, YOU ARE TO RESUME YOUR DUTIES AT OPERATING BASE AKASH FOR MANAEAN ASSISTANCE EFFORTS NEAR SIELIA
MEET WITH OPERATIONS TEAM BLACKSTAR AT 1900 HOURS FOR BRIEFING WITH YOUR CREW.
THIS MISSION IS TO REMAIN HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL AND OF THE HIGHEST SEVERITY.
YOUR UC-189^[5] SHALL BE AWAITING YOU UPON YOUR ARRIVAL AT OPERATING BASE AKASH.
FURTHER INFORMATION WILL COME UPON ARRIVAL
DELIVER THIS MESSAGE TO MILINT ACQUISITION^[6] OFFICIALS UPON ARRIVAL TO ENSURE PROPER DESTRUCTION AND CONFIDENTIALITY OF MESSAGE.

...Alternatively, there was the fact that his new role was the exact opposite of what he was hoping... with a team of special operations personnel that were shady enough. And, for some reason, they were operating very close to Manae. This seemed like the setup to something sinister, but Atum couldn't question anything further as, after all, he had no goddam clue why he was here or what this mission was.

"Oh, great."

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he folded up the letter and put it back into his uniform's pocket. The last thing that he wanted to do was to give himself a negative first impression to whomever he was greeting, as Akhmanari officers were known for their discipline and adaptability, especially those of the Sun Charioteers. However, he couldn't help but think about this new deployment. This finding about his new deployment buddies being special forces of all people was especially interesting given that, to his knowledge, it was very rare for special forces teams to be collaborating in joint operations with Armored teams that were otherwise considered "Shock"-training soldiers. What their previous deployments were or their names didn't matter—for now, he just wanted figure out who exactly he'd have to be making friends with soon, one way or another.

Outside of the aircraft, the rolling sand dunes and occasional mesas began to be replaced by dirt roads, tiny settlements, and small farms that dotted the coast of the lake that was opposite of the Djarzurma side. However, deep near a large mesa, seemingly hidden among the earth itself, were some oddities: Bunkers, barracks, watch towers, and fences gradually began to replace the otherwise arid landscape of the Lower Sebhet^[7]. For the first time in seemingly forever, the dirt roads disappeared and paved, smooth roads took their place as they approached the Operating Base in the distance.

He had to wonder, though, why would a base of this size be so secret, yet called something so small like an operating base?

Atum was almost about to fall back asleep when a rumble filled the cabin, indicating that their plane had landed at the base's long airstrip. Nearby, smaller jets and reconnaissance aircraft flew above, soaring off into the horizon as men and vehicles alike ran to and from stations, busy working even as the sun began to set. As the plane began to taxi, Atum spotted a larger vehicle transport aircraft, which was currently unloading some armored vehicles. One of the vehicles in particular, however, entered his sight instantly. It was rather unremarkable from the other tanks aside from the protective reactive armor on it, but the dead giveaway of its significance was the paint on one of the side of the armor panels on its turret. It was in hieroglyphics, depicting the legendary ancient scene of the Sun, which Atum was named after, defeating the invading Sea People^[8] while keeping the soldiers and people of ancient Akhmanar safe.

A formidable tank, making for the perfect Chariot of a formidable commander.

Devil's Den

Outside of Opus Nightclub, Docks District, Qadesh, Akhmanar Republic

7 January, A.C. 391

Ramun
Black Sphinx

"Founded in the year 30 BC in the Old World Calendar, the Black Sphinx was among the most ancient and mysterious of elite secret societies in the world. This legendary and infamous organization was alleged to be an elite band of Akhmanari assassins, guardians, and other figures of importance, trained in an ancient style of martial art with origins just as old, if not older, than the group itself. The group was made up of primarily those who were fundamentalist followers of Pharaism, the dominant Akhmanari religion to this day, who dedicated their lives and identities to protecting their land and their religion from threats, both outside and inside.

Because their numbers were traditionally small, the group used a variety of tactics in their battles against their enemies, including guerrilla warfare, espionage, sabotage, and, most famously, political assassination. It is believed that some of their actions decided the course of Akhmanari medieval history. According to historical texts, the Black Sphinx would plant highly trained moles into enemy strongholds, with instructions to attack only when the time was right, leaving behind nothing but bloodshed and death in their wake. They were known for their extreme discretion in minimizing civilian casualties, as well as their penchant for using stealth to intimidate their targets. As the legend goes, enemy leaders would often wake up in the morning to find an ornate Black Sphinx dagger lying on their pillow, along with a note saying "you are already dead," before dying soon after.

Around the time of The Fall, the library which apparently contained all Black Sphinx records in Luxor was completely destroyed, and the group seemed to fade away into obscurity, so much of what is known about the Black Sphinx today is based on myth and legend. In fact, their very existence is still debated to this day.

As a side note, their traditional name, "Azazakhin," is believed to be the origin of the modern word "assassin." "

—WorldWideWiki, Black Sphinx Society

Well, this guy isn't very smart if he thinks he can take me on with just himself and a couple of goons. Nonetheless, I'm still scared shitless that he's still following me.

This might get messy.

Ramun looked out of window of the driver's side, cursing loudly as Chatha's minions poured out of the nightclub, followed by her target himself, who ordered his men into a nearby van that he owned. She briefly pressed her handgun onto her unwilling driver's side, but placed her finger off the trigger, knowing still it would intimidate him and force him to move faster, then pointed it past him, at the entrance to the club. "Go, go, go! Do you want to die on the streets or not? Do you want your body to be chopped up into little pieces and fed to crocodiles, or your bones melted down into marrow in acid?"

"Hell no!" The driver screamed, stomping on the accelerator as hard as he could. The car's tires screeched across the asphalt as they continued down the back road of the city's Docks District, which was just as well known for its moderate rate of crime and incoming boats as it was for its nightclubs. She lowered her weapon and held on as they went over a hill, their car fishtailing briefly as they continued to gain speed. She would've commended the civilian's skill in driving when he was panicking, but she had little time to do that. After all, her mission was already botched, so she had to resort to turning a routine assassination mission into a game of cat and mouse until she could find someplace to lure him in and potentially do the job.

I'll find a way. She slowed down her breathing, turning to her driver. "Keep going. Don't panic if I start shooting at them. Conversely, don't panic if they shoot at us."

"Shoot?!" The man looked at her with beady eyes. "Why are they shooting at y—"

The mirror on Ramun's side shattered and the driver cried for his life, prompting Ramun to rack her handgun as she glanced at the approaching van from the window behind her. Behind them, the van was catching up, meaning either her driver wasn't doing a very good job in driving quickly, or that van was somehow capable of keeping up with their car. Frustrated, Ramun raised her weapon up at the rear window, aiming directly at the fat bastard currently driving the van that was glaring at her.

Without saying a word, she opened fire, her teeth rattling with every shot from the admittedly powerful handgun. The front mirror of the van exploded into hundreds of glass fragments as she dropped a SMG-wielding man in the passenger seat, while Chatha veered to the side, trying to dodge her gunfire. The man was relentless—annoyingly so. He wove around past more of her shots until Ramun's weapon was finally empty, also dodging the pistol sent flying at the vehicle in one last ditch effort.

She swung herself back into the car, watching the approaching blue and green lights of the Akhmanar National Police^[9] on approach. More shots broke out from the van trailing her as a round ripped through the car—along with her arm and her driver's chest—causing the man to slump over onto the wheel slowly, groaning loudly. Cursing at the sight and clutching her arm in pain, she moved a gloved hand over to the wheel and turned it to the left, sending the car veering over the opposite lane and straight through one of the fences that cordoned a nearby warehouse from the streets, currently unoccupied. The car came to a forceful stop on the warehouse's wall, and Ramun clumsily rolled herself out of the vehicle, swearing loudly as she dropped to a crouch, sneakily running towards the front of the car.

"Hey, hey!" She shook the civilian in the driver seat, but he didn't respond. The civie clutched his chest with blood-smeared hands, his eyes staring blankly ahead as a look of agony was forever frozen on his face. It didn't take that much of a brain to realize that the man was a goner, and there was no helping him now.

To be frank, she was almost a goner as well.

The mission was supposed to be an in and out assassination on a corrupt kingpin. Her target, Chatha, was a wealthy shipping oligarch who had an iron fist over life in Qadesh, and needed to disappear if peace were to be restored to the city. He led a crime syndicate that, albeit waning in manpower due to an increased police presence on his turf, still held significant clout and authority in the Docks District and greater city of Qadesh. Cutting Chatha out of the picture would free the city up from a corrupt man who held an invisible hand over the city administration, thus allowing the mayor to exercise his control over the city and push the reforms he supposedly had been trying to put in place for the longest time. However, the mission had gone very south and she had been found out during her infiltration of Chatha's nightclub headquarters, thus resulting in a large and bloody fight and a jump out of a window, followed promptly by politely asking the driver that had just died for a ride out of there.

And, now, here she was: trying to find where the hell to go in the meantime. The coast was clear, but Chatha's men clearly knew where she was judging by the approaching wails of the police sirens. Her head bobbed from side to side as she strained her eyes to find them, eventually spotting a black figure entering the gate at the entrance of the complex: Chatha's van.

Dammit. I'm a damn sitting duck here. Ramun bounded as one would in a warzone, entering the warehouse and quickly blending into the shadows. Outside, the sputtering engine of the van was heard before briefly cutting off, followed by the sound of men getting out of their vehicle to try and search the warehouse for their target. From her shadowy position near one of the large metal container, she could see the five men fanning out, all of them armed as a two stood to provide cover for their boss, while the other two moved in to search for their target. Unbeknownst to them, they were headed right towards her, which was exactly what she wanted in this situation.

A means of cutting down Chatha's men without getting too close. Now, the perfect opportunity was at hand.

She flicked her wrist, revealing the hidden blade as they came around the corner. Grabbing one of them by the neck, she wrung him over to the side opposite of her, stunning him as his head slammed into the metal container she hid by. The other was dropped to his knees after a powerful kick to his leg sent the limb snapping in a direction it physically shouldn't, his scream prematurely cut off by a hidden blade to his neck, causing only a meek gurgle as his body lowered onto this knees, then to the ground. Before the other gunman could reach for his weapon, Ramun was already behind him, his blade plunging deep into and out of his back a good couple of times to ensure his death.

Moving away from the scene, Ramun blended back into the shadows, spotting a glimpse of Chatha looking around the warehouse. She knew that he was afraid, scared shitless and thinking about the identity of who his anonymous masked assassin was that was picking off his men. Genuinely frightened by the sight, he stuck close to his men and ventured forward, nervously rubbing his hands together as he scanned the dark warehouse.

A single shot rang out suddenly as one of the men besides Chatha went down, spraying gray matter and other giblets onto the left side of his face, covering the orange aviators that he wore. The remaining gunman swept around to the source of the sound and opened fire, his SMG blindly firing into the darkness as he indiscriminately tried to gun down whatever he saw move in the shadows. However, he was too late to notice Ramun sneaking up behind him, only uttering a grunt as a hand was held over his mouth. He went limp as Ramun's blade plunged into him and was drawn out, leaving his body discarded to the side like his comrade. Ramun stepped over them, cleaning the hidden blade underneath her black jacket against her fresh kill’s own coat.

"Sorry this had to be so messy," Ramun apologized as she pulled her hood down and took off her shawl, taking one of the gunmen's sidearms and checking the magazine, before pointing it at Chatha. "You should've stayed at home after reading the message on your pillow, Chatha, and just waited for the bullet, man. Even tyrants like you aren't invincible."

"Tyrants?" The crime kingpin suddenly reached to his side, where he revealed a revolver from his holster that was extended straight to Ramun's cranium. He placed his thumb on the hammer, holding the weapon with a firm vice grip. "I run this city, you see. I make the money and decide who does what and where they do it at. If I so pleased, I could've had you and whatever gang you're from erased from Qadesh in a snap. Now, why don't you tell me who you are, hm? Tell me who you are, who you work for, and why you've come for me, or I might just slip up and accidentally blow your brains out."

Lowering her breathing, Ramun kept her focus on the man's gun—specifically, his hand. One wrong move, and she'd make hers. "We are the silent defenders of Akhmanar and her people..."

"Stop."

"We serve the oppressed, the persecuted, the weak, so that they may live like all others.."

"Stop." Chatha tightened his grip on the weapon, his knuckles white as he pulled the hammer of his revolver down even further.

"Always returning to the shadows we came from. The punishment for our enemies is death."

"You're dead meat!" Chatha's finger moved from the trigger guard onto the trigger itself, aiming the weapon straight between her eyes. This prompted Ramun to flash a smile, laughing, even. "Oh? Well, you are already dead, Chatha."

Chatha blinked.

In a motion that seemed like a blur, Ramun came forwards, grabbing onto the front of the weapon. She turned it—and Chatha's wrist—away from her, before pushing his wrist back in and bringing him onto his knees with a swift kick to his leg. Once the gun was wrenched away, she tossed it to the side, jabbing at his neck and bringing him down once again with a hook to the side of his face. Before Chatha could get back up, another kick sent Chatha into one of the containers, followed by a knee to the side of his face as Ramun drove him once more into the surface behind him.

She grabbed his hair, driving it into the container and pulling it out, marveling for a moment at the face-like indentation on the surface, before swinging Chatha back so that he faced the ceiling. Then, raising a leg, she let out a great "HA!", driving her foot straight down through the side of Chatha's skull.

Personal Horet

Operating Base Akash, Akhmanar Republic

7 January, A.C. 391

Cpt. Atum Hotep-Ptah of Yevosh
2nd Armored Platoon "Golden Gods"
21st Armored "Sun Charioteers" Division

"The owl, patron bird of the tutelary god of Akhmanar, Horet, has a history that goes beyond its common association with wisdom and knowledge. In the ancient world, where the love of wisdom and science flourished worldwide, owls played a part in many a peoples' mythology, culture, language, and art. An exploration into the role this bird had in people's beliefs provides us with a mirror that enlivens the beliefs of folklore that persist to this day. In Ancient Akhmanar, owls were known as ‘keen-sighted hunters,’ but were also associated with mourning and death."

—MILINT Aquisitions Webpage, “History of MILINT”

"Be on your best behavior." Atum said nothing more as he and two other men marched down the labyrinthine hallways of the Operating Base. The base Operations Center had been built deep into one of the mesas like some sort of giant termite mound, stacking barracks and helipads and supply depots on top of the hill atop tunnels, hospitals, offices, computer server rooms, tunnels, and garages, as well as more tunnels. Still dressed in his battle uniform^[10] with his cap on, his skin tone contrasted with the slightly darker desert camouflage, made up of browns and tans to form a pattern that worked well with the arid parts of Akhmanar.

"Yes, commander." To his left, Atum's subordinate, Sergeant Shakir-Hetet replied first. Shakir was very competent in his abilities and an exceptional gunner, just as knowledgeable in how their tank worked as their commander and driver was. Being the second oldest, behind Atum, of course, Shakir was a veteran and was no stranger to taking orders, but wasn't one to quickly bounce back and repute a commanding officer's orders. However, his fatal flaw seemed to be his ego, which often got him disciplined by Atum or other commanders, because of his confidence in his abilities as a gunner.

To his left, Atum still expected a response from his youngest subordinate, Sergeant Nofret. It took a nudge from Shakir to finally zone Nofret out of his trance, to which he nodded quickly and replied with a "Yes, commander!" Being the youngest, it was always hard for someone like Nofret to fit in with the others, but that didn't hide him from the fact that he had an exceptional career, rising the ranks just as quickly as their commander had. However, Nofret had come from a different background: raised in a rather poor environment, Nofret was the first military man in his family, primarily joining for the benefits that came after, as he was looking to complete his studies after the military and gain a high-up position in the work force. As much as Atum admired his diligence, he also admired his competence in his abilities, though found himself not knowing anything else about the man aside from his youth, exceptional career, and desire to do something good after college studies. However, on multiple occasions, Nofret's youth had resulted in him being disciplined for his cowardice, which they all knew very well was not a good quality to have in an enclosed metal box.

"We're here. Step in, and find your name on the chair," Atum instructed, entering first as his subordinates followed in. At the front of the room, Atum briefly flashed a smile as he noticed someone familiar standing among the black and grey uniforms and camouflage of his Special Forces equivalents. Commandant Seth-Het of Luxor nodded in greeting and he returned the gesture. Along with being his superior and mentor, Seth was an incredibly gifted leader, well-liked by most under his command, and was Atum's friend outside of his military duties. However, due to his higher rank and status within the Sun Charioteers as a part of its upper echelons, Atum was not able to learn much about what he did aside from commanding the Sun Charioteers and overseeing the Golden Gods and the other platoons.

Atum's team entered the room promptly, finding their ways to the seats situated behind the ocean of black and grey uniforms. Right now, the base staff were in the process of accommodating the increase in special operations that had been coming in, but, regardless, Atum thought it didn't make sense for a bunch of assault troops to be sitting around with special forces, unless it was for a joint operation. Either way, he figured the elusive Special Operations Division^[11] would have their own armored support units, so this made things all the more confusing for him.

Atum was ushered up to the front of the room by Commandant Seth, who promptly shook his extended hand in greeting once he was at the front of the Operations Center. "Have fun on your way here, Captain?"

Atum rolled his eyes from his superior's sarcastic inquiry, getting straight to the point. "You needed me, Commandant?"

The man beside Seth moved towards them to talk, the Commandant rank pin and silver winged fox lapel on his uniform indicating he was of equivalent rank to Seth, but of a different force: Special Operations. "Precisely. We were doing some digging while you were on your way here, Captain."

"About the Manaeans," Seth clarified. "Commandant Narmerkhet here will explain it in detail to everyone, but, to fill you in ahead of time, we've found an organization that we believe will help our efforts to undermine the collaborationist regime in Manae. Our suits have been contact in them for a while, and they are called El-Hadhai."

Atum nodded. He had to remember the elusive special forces and their terminology. "Suits" referred to the upper echelon of MILINT Acquisitions, usually high-ranking and more respected than civilian intelligence community officials, but shady and vague as ever in their orders and actions. They commanded "operatives", who were the men that his subordinates were sitting among now: regular soldiers that had either been selected for special forces due to their talent and merit or passed grueling selections to join the ranks of some of the most formidable fighters on their side of the planet. "Anything else about this group?" Atum inquired.

"They want the Aenaran influence gone just as much as we do, believing Aenara forced Manae into a treaty that essentially signed away their sovereignty. Now, the Aenarans are using this to plunder Manaean relics all for their silly religion." Narmerkhet said grimly.

Tch. Stupid heretics. I can't wait until Horet irradiates half of their country again, perhaps that's why they're all stupid? The cancer's eating up their brains. Atum nodded. "Understood. Anything you need for me to say?"

"Your Platoon's capabilities, Captain," Narmerkhet explained, eloquent as ever. "The El-Hadhai are primarily urban fighters active in Sielia—this is why we are here. Why you are here is to train their motorized and armored components, as we are supplementing their arsenal with our own surplus of tanks and weapons. I should note that your team in particular may be called in for... other missions. You'll know what to say, but don't mention that, for your sake."

He executed a crisp right face to the group, who all sat up at attention. "At ease."

The lights dimmed as a projector turned on, detailing important notes of the briefing, starting with a map of their region of the world, zoomed in to cover the southwestern half of the Lower Sebhet, Manae, and Akhmanar. He was handed a long stick, which he would presumably use to point to locations of interest on the map. "Ladies and gentlemen of team Blackstar, you have been called here for a new mission of the highest sensitivity. We now have an effective means of replacing the collaborationist regime in Manae once and for all and returning sovereignty to our ally. Now, if you would divert your attention to the board.."

He pointed to the map, towards the city of Sielia, which was zoomed in to show map marking symbols indicating locations of—unknown to the troops—El-Hadhai bases. "This is El-Hadhai. They are a large resistance movement comprising of Manaeans who believe Aenara forced their country into signing an agreement which effectively eliminated their sovereignty and puppeted them to Aenara. They are dedicated to fighting off the Aenarans by whatever means, and have already engaged several who have come over to plunder Manaean historical relics and sites, violating their pristine nature all for their religion. Their objectives are simple: Remove the Aenaran collaborationist government, Resist the Aenaran's hegemonic influence, and Replace their government with one that is sovereign and independent; effectively, the "old government," if you will."

He continued. "Our objective is simple: Operatives, you will be training and arming the El-Hadhai. Their fighters comprise of mostly former Manaean security forces with a fast growing base of volunteers, many of whom are not as well versed in combat as their ex-military counterparts are. As for our armored friends here..."

The special forces in the room turned around briefly, looking at Atum's subordinates in a very awkward four second pause, before turning around as their commander cleared his throat. "The 2nd Armored Platoon, or Golden Gods, are some of the most well-trained, disciplined, and experienced fighting units in the 21st Armored Division. We are very thankful for their Commander to be here, Captain Atum Hotep-Ptah, who will explain to us his Platoon and their role in this."

Atum took center stage, folding his hands behind his back as he passed by Narmerkhet silently, before turning to his crowd. "Thank you, Commandant. It is my responsibility to maintain order in my Platoon, and see to it that they complete their objectives diligently and without error. The role I play in this is simple: logistics and training of the El-Hadhai's armored and motorized components. It is my belief that you will be training them to fight the Aenarans in urban combat, so it is my responsibility to ensure their armored and motorized elements are well-equipped and well-trained to deal with the Aenarans, who possess formidable armored vehicles they undoubtedly have lent to the Manaean collaborationists. However, these vehicles are not invincible."

With a pause, he added, "Nothing is invincible to us Golden Gods. Thank you."

He stepped back behind Narmerkhet, who nodded. "Thank you, Captain. As the Captain stated, he will be providing armored support to our operations. Now, as for missions:"

The screen swapped to a photo of El-Hadhai fighters standing beside a captured Manaean tank, rifles high. "Captain, you are to meet with the El-Hadhai's armored element at ten hundred hours, at their compound outside of Sielia. There, further instructions will follow from their armored commander himself. Operatives.."

The screen changed to that of a photo showing a smiling Manaean officer beside some of his Aenaran counterparts: a hefty, clean-shaven man with no hair on his face aside from a small stubble. He wore the uniform typical of that of a middle-ranking officer, complete with medals and ribbons and all, as well as the unmistakable rank pin of Major. "Givan Zaed." Narmerkhet said the name with a hint of spite. "We believe this man to be responsible for assisting the Aenarans in their plunder of Manaean historical relics, leading him to be a figure of controversy in their country. Along with this, there have been unconfirmed reports of alleged human rights violations and corruption in the past. El-Hadhai has placed an assassination or kidnap order on him, and while we aren't going to be the ones to do it, El-Hadhai's own assassins will," He added, as if to explain why the operatives were here to begin with.

"Operations will begin tomorrow," Commandant Seth explained. "If there are no lingering questions, you all are dismissed."

Grandmaster

???, Luxor, Akhmanar Republic

7 January, A.C. 391

Ramun
Black Sphinx

"I remember seeing a mass of darkness in the corner of my eyes in when the moon was still high. A breeze gently brushed my face as I awoke, but I thought nothing of it until the morning, when I found my General to be dead in his quarters, his throat slit in his sleep. A decorative dagger was beside his bed along with the note: "Your death is near." Now in command, I ordered our forces to leave the castle at once, lest we befell a similar fate to the General."

— Journal of Antiochus, 96 B.C.
Library of Luxor

"By the nine,^[12] Ramun, you should be dead." Peshet, Ramun's associate and another agent of the Society, marched alongside his colleague. Ramun found it difficult to describe their relationship, to be honest. Outside relations aside, Peshet was a competent and well- versed strategist and fighter, whose skills rivaled even Ramun herself, at times. However, he possessed a massive ego, which often dragged him down as he tried to win the favor of the Masters over Ramun. Other than that, the only obvious thing keeping them from forming a great chemistry with each other was solely due to the fact that Peshet obviously liked her.

Such behavior was unprofessional and would get someone killed, but Ramun didn't mind. It reminded him of someone from one of her past iterations, a certain "Andrew" from somewhere, who had a similar personality wasn't the best to work with, at first.

In response to his earlier comment about her injuries, Ramun shrugged her shoulders. "He didn't hit me anywhere vital."

"You call getting shot in the arm and leg vital, Ramun? With those sort of injuries, you'd be lucky that you still have an arm and a leg."

"Tch. I'm a tough person." She scoffed, smirking at her colleague. "All I have to do now is just talk to the Grand Master, and I can go home."

"To the hospital." Peshet corrected her. She glowered at him. "Home."

They took a right turn down the dark corridors, passing through large, ornate, hieroglyph-covered doors as they walked down an impossibly large chamber, towards a large table that a group of men were conversing among. As they saw the two approach, the cloaked men stood up and bowed to them, which Ramun and Peshet replied to with their own bows. "Hello, Masters. Grand Master."

The Grand Master himself, The Great Namrut Ptolemon, acknowledged their greeting. "I apologize for the civilian casualty, Ramun, but, as you know, that was something out of your control. However, I am pleased to hear that Chatha is Dead, and will no longer rule over the city of Qadesh with his iron fist. Thanks to you, Akhmanar is free of a vile, violent man who had ruled over the city unopposed. Peshet of Sebek, I commend you for your actions in providing information to Ramun, and your continued efforts to protect our land. I do not know what this Order would do without you two and your continued efforts."

"Thank you, Grand Maste—"

Ramun paused as The Great Namrut Ptolemon interrupted her with a "But! I am curious as to why his death was so messy. Quite literally. The authorities are ruling his death as a shootout with a rogue third party gang, which I am tasking you, Peshet, to locate. I wonder how he managed to die headless, Ramun. I do not believe your wrist blades have the capability to.. as the report goes.. completely destroy one's head."

"I had to improvise." She fibbed plainly. "He assaulted me in an enclosed area with a shotgun—I simply took his weapon and used it on him. That's all."

"Hm." The Great Namrut Ptolemon contemplated for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Understood, Blade. For now, I ask you to keep vigilant about this rogue third party gang, embed yourselves into it, if you have to. When the time is right, destroy it at the head. In the meantime, you both deserve rest. Well done."

"Thank you." They both nodded and left the chamber, taking a right to leave the confines of the underground pyramid. While they left, Peshet turned left to his colleague, raising an eyebrow. "I take it the shotgun was a lie?"

"You wouldn't be wrong." Ramun flashed a smug grin at her bald, olive-skinned accomplice. "It's simple: I stomped his head in until there was nothing left."

Loner Obsidian

Sugarcane, Arcadia, Haven Island, Turmenista, Federal States of Euphemie

7 January, A.C. 391

Christopher Easy-Money-Epitaph H. Bell

"Every man, woman, and child are going to need to put their all into this. With our combined effort, my sound economic and social policies, and the grace of Fern himself, we will make Turmenista the greatest state in the FSE. Everyone will be kings and queens!"

— Governor Barry Unto-The-River Whitesnake of Turmenista
Inaugural Speech, 390 A.C.

Bars, nightclubs, and neon lights were as synonymous with Sugarcane as massive urban sprawl, dense housing, rain, and a strange, long nights were to the rest of Arcadia. At times, it seemed as if the city was in perpetual darkness. Nearly every corner of the city was picture-worthy and any photographer's dream, but, sadly, Christopher wasn't that great of a photographer, meaning those picture-worthy moments would have to be savored visually rather than behind a camera.

He only hoped he could say the same for his colleague, a simple, dark-skinned man who called himself "Auctor." Ridiculous name aside, Auctor happened to be an incredibly talented writer who frequented Chris's library, often sharing his works to the rest of the collective of regulars that frequented the shop. While he was around 30—two years older than him—he had a wise feel to him that Chris could only liken to his mother or father, but, sadly, wasn't much of a talker, only speaking when he needed to. His most notable feature was a long scar on his left eye that, apparently, was from an accident with a former friend, though he didn't think much about it. Auctor hadn't said anything to Chris ever since they stepped foot in the bar, instead staring blankly at the glass of beer before him as people chatted and conversed in the background.

"You gonna finish that beer, A?" Chris asked, trying to be friendly to the man, but to no avail. Annoyed, he rolled his eyes. "Look, dude. I've been rejected by girls too—"

"Have you ever had the feeling that friends may... leech off of you?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"

"I'm referring to those who may seem like they're using your success to advance their gains. I believe that everyone in the world has the potential for greatness, but those who leech off others' successes aren't worthy of praise."

"Ah, so it's kind of like that old saying!" Something clicked in Christopher's head. "Something about big fish eating the smaller ones, right?"

"Auctor" was silent for a moment before nodding. "The strong eat the weak... but what about parasites?"

Christopher continued to stare off blankly, only exiting his trance once he heard a glass set down beside him. Auctor had since finished his drink and was looking up at the television, apparently not even mentioning the conversation that had taken place seconds ago. Instead, he seemed to have strayed away from the earlier conversation entirely, looking at the two very loud people talking behind them: A white youngster in a bomber jacket and his olive-skinned girlfriend, who had long and wavy black hair.

"And you know this country sucks, Darby, eh?"

"You're right, Tony—"

The girl was cut off when Tony's fist hit the table hard, causing the silverware and plates and glasses to rattle. "I really, really hate these corrupt-ass police guys. Get this: I was just walking home one day, minding my own business, and out of nowhere, I get pulled over by the fucking cops for reaching into my glove box. My glove box. All I was trying to do was get some chewing gum, but these fuckers are so nitpicky, you know? Why can't we just have a regular-ass police force in this city, instead of.. whatever this shit is? I don't see the point behind why we need some hyper-aggressive, hyper-militarized police force that's trigger happy and would gladly run down someone's door with a battering ram on a tank if they so thought he had something illegal. I'd rather be in Canten: Their police won't mess with you unless you mess with them, y'know."

Tony sighed loudly as his girlfriend only rubbed his hand. "I know how you feel. I can't do much to change the system aside from voting, and you know how that last election turned out. I don't even know how it was possible that Governor Whitesnake won by like one vote."

Tony sighed. "People in this city just make me want to shoot myself in the face with a fucking shotgun, Darby. But, we can't leave—we ain't got nowhere to go, and some little Pontillac Gabani might not make it far. We'll be lucky if we even get across the bridge to Alainor, let alone the tunnel."

Tony finished his drink and motioned for his girlfriend to leave, grabbing his jacket from the back of his seat. "Let's go."

Passing Chris and Auctor's table on the way out, Auctor watched them leave, a small grin appearing on his face as he turned back to Chris, revealing a cigar that he promptly lit with a lighter and took a long puff from. "Friends of yours?" Chris inquired.

Auctor looked at his acquaintance briefly, biting down on the cigar as he placed his lighter back into his green jacket. "In a way."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Thet Pyramid Complex - The Thet Pyramid Complex is a large archaeological site on the outskirts of Djarzurma, in the Southern Desert of Akhmanar. The complex includes three massive pyramids which allegedly contained the remains of a former Pharaoh and his two wives, as well as a structure known as the Great Sphinx, which is a frequent pilgrimage site for those who are fundamentalist followers of Pharaism. It also contains several ancient cemeteries, a workers' village, and an industrial complex. These Pyramids, along with countless others throughout Akhmanar, have historically been common emblems of Ancient Akhmanar in the West. By far, this is one of the oldest structures of the Old World that has survived until now.

There exists a conspiracy theory that these Pyramids once served as "starships" for a race of extraterrestrials some 350 million years ago, though, for obvious reasons, this is entirely false.

2 - 2nd Armored Platoon "Golden Gods" - The 2nd Armored Platoon, or the Golden Gods, are one of many platoons which fall under the 21st Armored "Sun Charioteers" Division. They are well-known and well-respected for their discipline, experience, and exceptional combat skill, so much so that some classify them as assault or shock-grade soldiers, or borderline Special Forces. Although a Captain would normally lead a Company, not a platoon, the Golden Gods are an exception. It is commanded a captain (Atum Hotep-Ptah), who is assisted by four lieutenants and two senior enlisted personnel. The unit's total strength amounts to 45 soldiers. Their two primary vehicles include the UC-189 "SPHINX" an extensively modernized version of the exported Tangaliroan Main Battle Tank produced in Akhmanar, and the A132, a Tangaliroan Infantry Fighting Vehicle exported to Akhmanar.

3 - The Sea of Glass is a massive irradiated region outside in Southern Akhmanar and Northern Manae, effectively serving as a border between the two countries. Undoubtedly the hottest and most inhospitable place in Tsion, the Sea of Glass is an unforgiving wasteland in which virtually no life exists, or can exist, outside of the hardiest of microorganisms. True to its name, in many areas, the sand has been crystallized into glass, which reflects the sunlight off of it, easily killing any flying bird from exposure. The only means of crossing it are to either go around (or not cross it at all), and even the less irradiated areas are dangerous to cross due to the glassy ground and high temperature.

Strangely, despite experiencing virtually no precipitation whatsoever, the Sea of Glass is subject to intense storms, namely "ion storms", which causes massive towers of trinitite to appear at seemingly random intervals throughout the Sea of Glass.

4 - 21st Armored "Sun Charioteers" Division - The Sun Charioteers is a combined arms division of the Akhmanari Ground Forces, with emphasis placed in armored warfare. It is one of the oldest, and thus, the most most decorated divisions, though experience varies between the regiments, battalions, companies, etc.

5 - UC-189 - The UC-189 "SPHINX" is Akhmanar's main battle tank, which is an extensively modernized version of the tank of the same designation built in Tangaliro and exported to Akhmanar. Vastly improved electronics, fire control, and protection systems have made this a beast comparable to the most powerful of Western main battle tanks.

6 - MILINT Acquisitions - Military Intelligence Acquisitions is the name given to one of two intelligence wings under the Ministry of Defense, acting as the direct action and clandestine operations counterpart to MILINT Observations, a largely support-based OSINT/SIGINT and espionage-based wing. It unctions as the Akhmanar Armed Forces' main intelligence organization. From what little is known about their operations, MILINT is responsible for espionage, covert operations, hostage rescue, asset recovery, Reverse Engineering and Prototyping (REAP), covert operations, and direct action. It often collides with its civilian counterpart, the Providence Office, over jurisdiction concerns.

7 - Lower Sebhet - The Lower Sebhet is the geographic lower region of the Sebhet river in Akhmanar, containing many cataracts. Here, the Sebhet's tributaries branch off into different locations, and many pyramids can be found, including those at the Thet complex.

8 - Sea People - The Sea People is the name given to a maritime confederation that attacked ancient Akhmanar and the surrounding regions prior to and during the Late Bronze Age (1200 B.C. Old World). Their origins, intents of invasion, language, and history are all unknown, though their origins are proposed to be in either present-day Kymbra, Acasia, or Tangaliro.

9 - Akhmanar National Police - The ANP, or Akhmanar National Police, is an agency administered by the Ministry of Internal Security (MiS), acting as the central agency of the Akhmanari police system, and the central coordinating agency of law enforcement in situations of national emergency in Akhmanar. It is one of the two national police forces in Akhmanar, along with the Gendarmerie known as the Civil Security (CS), which is a branch of the Akhmanar Armed Forces placed under jurisdiction of the MiS, with additional duties to the Ministry of Defense. When not in emergencies, the ANP acts as essentially a nation-wide law enforcement agency policing the civil level, finding itself involved in domestic investigations, fugitive operations, counter-terrorism, and more.

10 - Battle uniform - Battle uniforms are camouflage battle dress uniforms, with service-distinctive patterns and styles for each branch of the Akhmanar Armed Forces.

11 - Special Operations Division - The Special Operations Division is a Special Forces division which falls under the Ministry of Defense, responsible for special operations throughout all branches of the Akhmanar Armed Forces. It is also used as an umbrella term to describe special forces in Akhmanar itself. MILINT Acquisitions often works hand in hand with the SOD, sometimes even recruiting its operatives for MILINT tasks.

12 - The Nine - In the Pharaistic pantheon, the nine were a group of nine deities that have remained as the dominant gods in the pantheon: The Sun god Atum; his children Shi and Tunfet; their children Get and Turok; and their children Horet, Sebek, Nephon, and Armun. They rose to importance during the rise of Pharaism, and have remained prominent in Akhmanar throughout its history.

by **Valefontaine** » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:03 am

Monad

Altoria, Blume, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

7 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

"Altoria is one of the more prominent parts of Blume due to its booming real estate market. Large enclaves populated by immigrants from Mederum are a hallmark of Altoria, though the area is much less distinctly Sinican than Traumend, Blume."

— Federal States Census Department; 390 A.C.

Frigid cold rain pattered against the decayed, overgrown concrete. In scattered puddles, thin layers of ice were beginning to manifest, casting surreal reflections of the neon signs and backdoor lights of the alleyway.

It was monsoon season in Torch City, meaning it'd be a wet few months — if a cold front came, it would spell an outright winter storm.

"Here?" Pierce looked to Bianka, who stood beside him.

"This is the place," She pointed to a corroded metal door further down. Inscribed upon it was a circle with a dot at its center. A lock, broken now, lay on the floor before the entrance, half-submerged in a puddle of rainwater.

A single look at the object told Pierce that Bianka and Erika had, most likely, been the last to touch the site. "You break that lock over there?" He pointed.

"Erika did all the heavy lifting, she needed me to help her with the files themselves."

Files. Pierce thought to himself. "Was this the last time you saw Erika alive?"

"We broke in, we took what we needed to take, and we got out. She paid me eight-thousand dollars when she drove me back to my place. I never saw her again." Bianka replied.

So the victim has a car. I can figure out the make and model myself. He pushed open the door, drawing his Executor pistol as he descended a tight, cramped, ill-lit ways down, Bianka tightly behind him. The air was warm compared to the outside, but it was a sickeningly stale air, not unlike that of a closet unopened for many years. A tangible scent of old urine contaminated the air, an indicator that the usual city rats had probably been rather busy.

"We destroyed all the security cameras we could find." Bianka closed the door behind them as they descended the steps.

Down the steps, the marshal happened upon the smashed remains of a dingy beige security camera, corroborating what Bianka had said.

Pierce stopped, listening closely. The periodic sound of water dropping echoed across the space of the room ahead, he could only assume it originated from a leaking pipe. He could already tell there would be no enemies in this floor — he had similarly perceived the movements of the armed men from earlier. Still, he kept his wits about him. "Why would she select you for this job?" He whispered.

"She knew I had self-defense training," Bianka explained. "She wanted me to be there in case things didn't go as planned."

The room, as Pierce had predicted, was desolate. Air conditioning fluids semi-methodically dripped down to the grime-stained concrete floor, coalescing in a damp puddle.

Against the walls, dreary shelves were lined with rotting boxes of documents and folders. The place hadn't been touched, though — he felt certainty in that assumption.

"This room wasn't where you got the files, was it?"

"Of course not. All these shelves contain are old boxes of newspapers." Bianka responded. One of the shelves, which stuck greatly outward at an angle, had in fact been moved out of position.

Pierce could only assume such was Bianka's doing, and it proved true — as he looked at the wall behind the shelf, he noticed another dingy metal door. It was lightly agape, presumably from the previous intrusion. "I take it this places goes quite deep." He said, opening the door to see a darkened staircase leading further down.

Bianka nodded. "You would be correct."

Future Legend

Qarik International Airport, Emirate of Qarik

10 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"The instruments of democracy cannot safeguard the Qariki state against the Sanjari invasion. As of today, I am declaring a nationwide state of martial law to protect the nation. Evacuations shall proceed — we will guarantee the safety of as many Qariki men, women and children as we can."

— Zaqar IV, Addressing the Council of Princes; 8 January 391 A.C.

In the few days since the war's beginning, Qarik City had entered a state of total lockdown. Barricades and checkpoints lined the barren thoroughfare, abandoned automobiles and loose, wind-bound flyers littering the desolate streets with reminders of the prosperity that'd once been.

Sociopathic snipers had settled themselves in the ancient ruins of civilizations centuries-past, picking away at those unfortunate enough to cross their sight.

The scorched vehicles of what'd become of the first Sanjari advances littered the dunes east of the highway, grotesque, mutant vultures greedily picking away at the sun-cooked corpses of crewmen and soldiers alike.

Upon the seas one could see the distant visages of the Sanjari fleet, which had made reduced Qarik's six-frigate fleet to smoldering scrap metal. Euphemian reinforcements had been delayed by the launching of the Sanjari fleet, even if by a few days. An engagement between the two naval powers to decide the fate of the lone Euphemian division in Qarik was inevitable, if not impending.

At the airport, Terminal C's once-grandiose glass windows had shattered by now, shards scattered about the abandoned waiting spaces beside the gates. Prefab barriers along the window-spaces shielded the denizens of 'Fortress Qarik' from the silent watch of distant sharpshooters.

From small, symmetrical crevasses in the iron frames of the barriers, Euphemian marksmen fired upon those who dared get too close to the airport's grounds. The runways of the airport had become pocked with craters, from what Sanjari artillery had survived the Euphemian precision airstrikes behind the frontline.

Behind the façade of an unassuming duty-free electronics store in the airport, there lay a room typically reserved for staff. Old posters were weakly lit by the incandescent bulb on the ceiling, which occasionally would flicker without semblance of method or rhythm. Nox reclined upon a folding chair set beside the table situated at the room's center, his eyes set on his subordinate just across from him. The rest of his men were at their posts as ordered, so he had little concern or regret regarding what he did with his time. Professionalism wasn't his strong suit, after all.

"By the way," He spoke, removing the Lucius™^[1] brand cigarette from his mouth.

"What is it, sir?" Sandra was near the door, still in the process of buttoning up her uniform. As she turned around, Nox caught a glimpse of the locket he'd given her, the spade's cracked sapphire detail glimmering under the light.

"I received a briefing from Nakamori." Nox reached into the chest pocket of his uniform, pulling forth a folded document and setting it on the table. "We're to set off tonight."

"So long as it ain't a suicide mission..." She approached, curious.

"Before the war, our federal government was working on a technology that was to revolutionize armored warfare. It was called 'Situationally-Aware Combat Computers'... the project never got past a few prototypes. The technology was lost in the chaos of the war, and the prototypes were all thought destroyed... 'till now. Someone's been operating a 400-year old prototype in the Great Qarik desert. The Sanjaris are probably after this piece of pre-war tech too. The Company's going to conduct an incursion into Sanjar to acquire the tank."

Sandra seemed as though she were about to make a comment, but hesitated. "Who's the crew operating it?" She asked.

"One person. These tanks require only a human driver. I'd be curious to see who's been running it. We'll be briefed by Nakamori soon. Per usual, you'll be helping with that." He got up, discarding the cigarette onto the table and tucking the folder back into his pocket.

He took his leave from the room, with her in tow. Soon enough, they were someplace much better lit — the terminal itself. Activity was at its usual, soldiers manning the ports in the barriers, some carrying around information or chatting — after all, the barriers kept them safe. Soon enough, Nox had returned to the rest of the 1st Section, at a certain 'Gate D'.

"SITREP?" Sandra called out to the two men. Michael was manning one of the ports with his rifle, while Daniel, per usual, was handling the radio.

"War is hell, nothing new." Michael removed his rifle from the port, setting it aside as he found himself a seat at the gate's waiting area.

"All's well, ma'am." Daniel turned around, setting his headphones down. "Something the matter?" He questioned. "We've received no orders, if that's what you're wonderin—"

"Yes," Nox interrupted. "We're going to the administrative office in Terminal B. A briefing," He smirked. "just the adventure you've been waiting for."

Gnosis

Altoria, Blume, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

7 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

"Beneath the ancient subway tunnels, the forgotten maintenance shafts, the catacombs of centuries past... there lies Golgotha. A paradise of hedonism, illicit business and crime, Golgotha is a city within a city, of which the Torch City Police Department has practically no authority over. At least, that's what the urban legends say."

— The Gatekeeper's Journal; 366 A.C.

Down the winding steps, the two pressed on. Pierce, with his Executor pistol at the ready, led the way through the darkness. The air was gradually becoming less stale and dry as they progressed downward, which served only to confuse Pierce.

"Do you know how Erika found out about this place?" He questioned.

"No." Bianka answered, shaking her head. She was just behind him, tugging tightly at his coat. Perhaps she feared these spiralling steps, which emitted metallic moans and creaks every few steps. As they continued down, a sound in the distance seemed to grow — that of running water. Soon enough, it was before them. Water flowed freely, roaring as it coarsed through the cavernous corridors of the vast compound. It was warm, too, a mist of water vapor enveloped about the flowing water.

What could be heating water all the way down here? Pierce, stepping into the knee-deep water, looked ahead. The electricity seemed to have failed at this level of the building, only darkness awaiting them ahead. Pierce activated the flashlight on his pistol, which brightly lit the path ahead.

"One of the exits we tried ended up causing a section of roof to collapse," Bianka explained, trudging through the water. "I know where the other exit is, though."

"Not until I see these files." Pierce answered, lumbering through the rushing water. "Which archive did you go through?"

"That one." She pointed, hopping a few steps ahead of the marshal. The two soon made it to a black shelf, flanked on both sides by two other black shelves. On the third rack, two boxes worth of folders were notably empty.

Pierce's eyes scanned the files protruding from the boxes. It was slowly becoming apparent to him they all had something in common — mention of some so-called 'Demiurge Project'. He turned off his flashlight and fetched one of the papers, folding and stowing it in one of his coat pockets. He froze as he moved his hand away from his pocket, however. A distant sound...

"Get us to the exit." Pierce whispered. "Someone's coming."

With a nod, Bianka hurriedly led him to a set of double-doors — behind them, through the mist, flashlights shone about, casting dim beams through the water vapor.

"Go." Pierce tapped Bianka's shoulder in the darkness. "I'll handle these guys."

Aiming to what he estimated to be the source of the flashlights, he fired away. There were four lights, and his gun carried a nine-round magazine.

BANG

The sound repeated another three times — he'd clearly failed to kill one of them outright, because his agonized screams echoed through the cavernous space. Firing to where he estimated the source of the sound to be, Pierce confirmed the kill as the pained yells were reduced to incoherent gurgles. One by one, the bodies began to float over, carried by the current.

Lighting his flashlight again, he recognized the uniforms as he looked upon the bodies: Typhon Defense Solutions. They were a subsidiary of the Lexicon Corporation, a multinational headquartered in Alexandria. The implications were obvious, of course.

"Hello?" Pierce could hear Bianka's voice not far ahead of him. There was fear in her voice, which probably wasn't unwarranted at this point.

"I'm still here." Pierce hurried over, catching up to her. She had been halfway to a set of doors aptly labeled 'Exit'. He took the initiative, walking ahead of her. He stopped before the doors, turning around to see Bianka had stopped. "What's the matter?"

"The people who killed Erika... just how powerful are they?" Her voice quivered as she spoke. It was obvious she feared for her life.

"That's what you're going to help me find out." Pierce replied, pushing against the door. Ahead was a metal walkway which led to a single elevator, lit by weak fluorescent bulbs. They seemed to be on a rocky, subterranean cliffside within a cavernous space. Water coursed through the door as it lay ajar, trickling through the walkway and down the cliffside. Upon the base of the rocky, dark expanse Pierce could see it: the glowing lights of what was unmistakeably some kind of settlement beneath the surface, which was seemingly thriving with life. Packs of bats scurried away as they stopped upon the walkway, flying in the direction of the elusive underground city.

"What is that?" Bianka paused, looking on at the strange sight.

"Golgotha. An underground city, a dark heaven this city's dark pleasures and vices that would make the Pink Light District pale in comparison. It's a lawless place. The police wouldn't dare tread down there — partly because this place's existence as a whole is a myth. Entrances to the Golgotha only exist through places like where we just went through: tiny, back-alley doorways that lead nowhere good." Pierce used the free moment to reload his Executor .50, eyes still set on the lights of the 'city' below.

"Do you think the men that killed Erika knew about that place?" Bianka's eyes were set on the lights of Golgotha, disturbed yet awestruck in a morbid way at the city's dark secrets.

"I think the men own that place." Pierce replied. "We'll book a hotel room and investigate things from there."

Opulence

Xandle Building, Morhatten, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

11 January, A.C. 391

Dana Matthews

"It was the most beautiful dream... and the most terrible nightmare."

— Dream Journal; 4 January 391 A.C.

The Xandle Building was in an interesting position. Being situated between the construction site of the Atlantic Economic Center and the sterile black visage of the Lexicon Tower, it gave Dana Matthews plenty of time to curiously imagine what was going on in the adjacent buildings.

Her father, Clyde Matthews, was CEO of Xandle Computronics, the biggest consumer electronics company in the FSE, if not Ophir. Things hadn't always been this great, of course, but her father had quickly gone from a simple computer engineer to one of Euphemie's richest men during the electronics boom of the 380s.

The penthouse floor, which was more specifically the 51st, were especially designed to accommodate the opulent CEO. He was often traveling, however, as business always demanded his presence somewhere. Due to this, the 51st floor was often just Dana's personal apartment.

...I wonder what happens in there... I mean, it looks so foreboding... Dana watched the Lexicon Tower whilst laying in bed, Xandle™ Tablet Computer 8™ in hand. The 25th to 27th floors of that building lacked windows, which was something especially curious to her.

Days like these where she had little else to do typically culminated in her microanalyzing behavior. Interrupting her thoughts, the tablet vibrated — it was a phone call. Sam Sykes was one of Dana's two closest childhood friends. They'd practically grown up together. Nowadays, they attended the International Academy, but often times in separate classes. Hitting a button on the device's dashboard, she answered the call.

"Yo, what's up?" Came the voice on the other end. "Me and Sophie were workin' on some stupid group project... mind if we crash at your place? We're at the lobby right now. This place sure decorates big time for Lupercalia^[2]..."

Pressing a button on the tablet, Dana paused to see an electronic confirmation on the tablet's screen. "I've unlocked the executive elevator."

"Sweet, thanks. See you in a few." As the call ended, Dana hopped out of bed, sliding into the pair of $400 Macrosse™ slippers she usually kept at her bedside. Leaving the bedroom, she found herself in the living room, the central atrium of the rather vast 'penthouse floor' that served primarily as a monument to her father's massive ego. At the center of the room were three sofas, complemented with coffee tables. A flatscreen television was across from the sofas, against the wall. It was contrasted by the dark color of the bricks on that particular wall, flanked at both sides by marble statues of Clyde Matthews in two different poses. Beyond that, the rest of that side of the room were windows, which gave an unparalleled view of the unending cityscape below.

A distant 'ding' indicated the executive elevator had reached her floor. Two pairs of footsteps approached the grand entrance to the penthouse suite, the mahogany double-doors were set at both sides with walls of ancient hieroglyphics — aside from being a tech industry genius, Dana's father was also deeply interested in archaeology, particularly the ancient curiosities in Akhmanar's deserts and river valleys.

The doors opened, revealing Dana's two friends.

"Welcome!" Dana greeted the two, gesturing them inside. They were both clad in Northstar winter jackets and had scarves with them, a common sight this time of year in Torch City. "Pretty cold out, huh?"

"You bet." Sophie removed her coat and scarf, setting it on the hanger. "I'd be fine with the cold if it was snowing."

"Hasn't snowed much this winter, now that I think about it." Sam curiously noted, following suit and setting his winter gear on the hanger. Heading to the center of the living room, he tossed his backpack onto one of the couches, sitting down.

"So, this group project of yours..." Dana looked to the backpack.

"We're writin' an essay about the War. I'm glad I got Sophie here to help me, because by Fern — I shouldn't be supposed to know who led what Euphemian army in some war 400 years ago. It's all so unnecessary, man." Sam opened the backpack, fetching a pencil and paper. The coffee table would suffice for a writing spot.

"Yeah, well history's doomed to repeat itself if we forget its lessons." Sophie set down three thumb-length history books on Sam's lap. "Let's get this work outta the way, come on." She sat beside him, playfully nudging him.

"C'mon, can't we watch a little TV first?" Sam whined.

Dana quietly laughed at the scene of her friends messing around. It had always been like this, and she couldn't ask for anything more than enjoying her time with them. Something, however, remained at the back of her mind. It probably haunted the thoughts of everyone else, too. A girl from the school had been murdered, her body left in the construction site right by Dana's own residence. Who could've done such a thing? What were their motivations? She'd heard the girl was the brother of Augusta Petroleum's CEO, which probably meant this wasn't a mere petty murder.

"Something the matter, Dana?" Sam raised an eyebrow, looking to her. He'd probably noticed she'd gone quiet.

"I've just been thinking about what happened a few days ago." Dana said. "What was someone like her doing at the construction site?"

"Oh, that." Sam tensed up a bit. "Beats me. Maybe Erika wasn't the straight-As, pretty-perfect student everyone thought she was. Or—"

"Actually, the new word going around is that she wasn't killed there. That's merely where they dumped her body. Almost as if someone was trying to cause controversy to screw with the construction effort. Someone big." Sophie was clearly implying it'd been a high-profile killing. She brought her pencil to her lips as she thought aloud. "Say, what happened to that friend of hers? Bianka... I'd always see those two together."

"You think the two were lovers or somethin'?" Sam inquired.

"I'm not saying anything... just that maybe something's happened to her too." Sophie gave a light shrug.

Tank!

Great Qarik Desert

10 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"The completion of these machines foretells not the advancement of humanity, but the creation of its eventual replacements."

— Dr. Jason 'Hans' Mikkelsen, Head of the SACC Project; 14 August 2 B.C.

The sun descended on the horizon, hugging the dunes and the grand ruins of what had once been marvelling skyscrapers of steel and concrete. They'd spent the past few hours, along with the rest of the company, slipping out of Qarik through the north. It'd been dangerous, of course, but it would be their only opportunity to capture the mysterious tank.

Nox and the 1st Section rode atop the turret of one of the LT-M9 tanks of the 4th Light Armored Platoon, 4C-3B-308DAR, specifically the one commanded by its CO, 2LT Giovanni Paradise V. Kiϟϟwell. The other 2 sections of Nox's platoon were, similarly, atop other tanks.

"Isn't it strange?" Michael questioned, looking to the skies.

"What is?" Nox rested atop the tank's turret. His eyes were set on the dunes ahead — presumably their path to the 'autonomous tank' that roamed the Great Qarik Desert with its lone operator.

"You'd expect a war to have a lot of explosions, gunfire n' all that... but it's so... silent." Michael thought aloud. "Kinda reminds me of the nights back home."

"This war'll probably be over soon." Sandra replied. "When the reinforcements arrive, the tide'll turn." She was busy watching the dunes ahead, searching for the ancient tank.

"Is that really it, though?" Daniel questioned. "This country could get dragged into a situation that could last years, maybe more. Hopefully we'll be shipped home by then, though."

"Focus on the matter at hand," Nox ordered. He glanced to their rifles, which were stowed upon the turret's stowage racks. "Getting caught off guard could kill us all."

"Check it out." Sandra pointed ahead, still using her binoculars.

Just before them lay the scorched remains of a Sanjari UC-160 Utnapishtim MBT. They were too far from the frontline now for this to have been the work of Qariki or Euphemian forces. A thin layer of smoke was still coming from the hatch — this was recent.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Army] - [23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division] - [747th Drop Infantry Regiment] - [3rd "Damnedtankees" Company, 747DIR] - [1st AH Platoon, 3C-3B-747DIR] - [AH-72 Tochockmee] - [SGT John P. Control 3-Chains-o'-Gold V. Goldstein] /// - "Visual on the tank. One klick north."

"Attack helicopter has a view on the target." Daniel announced, listening in on the radio. "One klick north."

"Right, then." Nox reached into the rack, fetching his ATR-M73 rifle. He looked about the desert, seeking the source of what the helicopter pilot had spotted. Through his scope's night vision configuration, he could see a distant cloud of dust in the distance, not unlike that of a moving vehicle.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Army] - [23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division] - [308th Drop Armored Regiment] - [3rd Battalion, 308 DAR] - [4th "Black Cat" Company, 308DAR] - [CPT Legion Prismlite With-You J. Grips Nakamori] /// - "This is the Federal States Army. You are operating a 'XBT-1982' autonomous battle tank, which is rightful property of the federal government. Surrender your stolen property and you will not be harmed!"

/// [E░PHFOR] - [FS ░th Army] - [░░░ Divis░on] - [░░th Exp░rimen░░░ Armor░d Regi░░nt] - [░░░] - [░░░ Comp░░y] - [░INVALIDRANK░INVALIDNAME░] /// - "And if I refuse?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Army] - [23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division] - [308th Drop Armored Regiment] - [3rd Battalion, 308 DAR] - [4th "Black Cat" Company, 308DAR] - [CPT Legion Prismlite With-You J. Grips Nakamori] /// - "I doubt you're able to."

Through Nox's scope, he could see the bizarrely-shaped tank rotate its cannon towards the approaching Euphemian forces.

Yet it did not fire at them.

"It's not firing?" Nox asked, gun still trained on the machine.

/// [E░PHFOR] - [FS ░th Army] - [░░░ Divis░on] - [░░th Exp░rimen░░░ Armor░d Regi░░nt] - [░░░] - [░░░ Comp░░y] - [AI CaSSandra v.0.2, Copyright 1990 Elcor-Heimwitz Ltd.] /// - "Security lock disengaged."

As the LT-M9 tank descended the dune, however, a loud BOOM sounded off as it fired, striking the sand beside the tank and kicking up a small plume of dust. The LT-M9 came to a stop, Nox throwing his rifle aside and leaping out, hurrying towards the strange prototype tank.

/// [E░PHFOR] - [FS ░th Army] - [░░░ Divis░on] - [░░th Exp░rimen░░░ Armor░d Regi░░nt] - [░░░] - [░░░ Comp░░y] - [AI CaSSandra v.0.2, Copyright 1990 Elcor-Heimwitz Ltd.] /// - "Activating anti-personnel countermeasures."

"Wait!" Sandra called out.

Shooting from mounted hardpoints across the tank's turret, the blast sent cascades of shrapnel down below — only seconds after Nox had rolled past where they'd struck. The explosion just behind Nox had surprised him, and as he rose to his feet from the sand he drew his IS-M301 sidearm. Climbing the rusty ladder that led to the tank's crew compartment, he pulled — and just luckily enough, the door swung open.

"HANDS UP!" He yelled, aiming into the rather cramped space. It was dusty, centuries-old wires hanging from various electronic systems Nox couldn't even begin to comprehend, machinery still operating centuries after its creation. Inside the crew compartment, he saw a lone girl. She was unarmed, given by the fact she raised her hands in surrender almost immediately. Her face was obscured by rags, her black hair descending through the sides of her helmet, though Nox could see the soft features of her upper nose and eyes. Her clothes, rags mixed with technological loot, served to further state the person's profession — they were among the many nomadic scavengers that wandered the deserts of the Great Qarik.

"So you really were Euphemians," She spoke Euphemian, though it seemed to be an oddly archaic dialect. "My apologies. The Sanjaris have been on my tail for months due to this tank. I suppose it goes without saying... I'll be killed here and now for attempting to fight back."

"The contrary, ma'am." Nox replied. "We just need the vehicle."

"Ma'am?" The scavenger asked, confused. Confusion turned to anger, and Nox was suddenly kicked in the gut, sending him falling out the tank's hatch. Softly landing in the sand, Nox looked up. The scavenger hopped down, pulling Nox close by the collar. "I'm not a woman."

Nox felt the pressure subside as the scavenger let go of him. "Right, then." Nox stifled an embarassed chuckle.

"So, you're just going to take the tank and..."

"Lieutenant, you'll be with our tanker friend here for the duration of the journey back to make sure nothing... bad happens." Nakamori approached, carrying the rifle Nox had discarded. "And I think you'll be needing this, if we run into... unexpected foes."

"Understood, sir." Nox took his rifle from his superior's hands, then gestured the scavenger to the tank.

To say the tank's crew compartment was cramped would be an understatement. After all, it was only designed for a single crewman. Yet somehow, the strange desert-wanderer before him had made a house out of the vehicle, complete with a bed and television haphazardly welded into the wall. The television had a HVC^[3] cassette of Starlight Crisis^[4] playing, which served to keep Nox distracted to some degree.

"I don't think I got your name." Nox said, breaking the relative silence in the crew compartment.

"Jay." The scavenger was half-busy operating the tank, though the turret itself seemed entirely operated by the artificial intelligence. After a brief moment, he added. "I don't think I got yours, either."

"Nox." Nox said. "How'd you find this tank, anyway?"

"There are many long-lost military depots amongst the dunes and ruins." Jay answered. "I myself know have known how to operate these vehicles for most of my life. My tribe are a proud line of tech-gatherers... they say we descended from the Euphemian garrisons in Qarik that were lost in the desert during the war..."

"Do your tribe have more of these tanks?" Nox questioned, curious.

"No. I don't know what happened my tribe, either. The Sanjaris attacked, and we were dispersed. Those that couldn't escape were exterminated, of course." Jay answered.

"I'm sorry about that." Nox replied solemnly. "How'd you keep this tank so well-maintained?"

"Personally, I don't feel as if I have. When I don't have spare parts, I don't fix it. Like that alarm over there." He pointed to a broken circular device on the ceiling. It's supposed to warn when a missile's incoming, but it's obviously broken." He suddenly jolted up in his seat, squinting closely at the flickering CRT screen before him. "Hold on. We've got something."

In a moment, the turret swiftly rotated to the left.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Army] - [23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division] - [308th Drop Armored Regiment] - [3rd Battalion, 308 DAR] - [4th "Black Cat" Company, 308DAR] - [CPT Legion Prismlite With-You J. Grips Nakamori] /// - "We've got contacts. East."

BOOM

The tank fired three shots in swift succession, and Nox could see on the screen that three red markers had gone black, as if to indicate they'd been destroyed.

"It handles all the shooting on its own." Jay explained. "It can process and calculate the ideal trajectories, meaning all I have to do is drive."

"How much ammunition does it have left?" Nox asked. There was, of course, room to go to an upper hatch if he needed to, but

"About sixty, last I checked." He kept his eyes fixed on the screen, pulling down on a lever — to which the engines of the machine made an audible roar as the tank sped down one of the dunes, an explosion echoing off to their left.

"What was that?" Nox stood up, as if to get to the top hatch.

"ATGM. I descended to make it hit the dunes." Jay noticed his acquaintance was trying to get to the hatch. "...just don't get yourself killed or anything."

"And if I did?" Nox began climbing the bars until he was just before the hatch.

"Well, I'd rather not clean your guts off the floor of my tank." Jay quipped, still entirely enamored in the task of operating the tank.

"Fair enough." Nox opened the hatch, aiming his rifle out. As the tank ascended the rolling dunes, the turret abruptly rotated and fired. Off in the distance, the bright flash of two explosions lit the otherwise dark night. It seemed almost effortless how the tank dispatched its Sanjari opponents.

Rather than the Euphemian light tanks escorting the prototype, it seemed as if the prototype tank was doing all the work.

Excess

Pink Light District, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

10 January, A.C. 391

The Aedifex

"With all due respect, sir, your tastes are most decadent, and your abode is most unpious. May the Moon spare you in the Afterlife." The Sanjari envoy was clearly disgusted at the Aedifex's 'home'. Perhaps it was the white powder still scattered across the living room table, or the two nude women sleeping beside him, or perhaps it was the smell of weed that permeated through the space.

"May the Moon spare me indeed, sir. I take it you've got the money?" The Aedifex set a briefcase upon the table. Clicking it open, he presented his business partner his offer — a certainly valuable set of documents.

The envoy chuckled. "Harsu sends his regards!" Drawing the weapon, he fired at the Aedifex. Arrogance and rage quickly became confusion and horror, however, as it occurred to him his shots hadn't a single effect.

The gunshot wound in the Aedifex's chest did little more than let loose a drop of blood.

clink.

The bullet hit the floor, ejected from his wound.

"What— what are you?!" The envoy stepped back, terrified. He turned to the door, as if to run.

"Wait! C'mon! You gotta do this business deal with me. It's really important. It'll affect the future of warfare itself, man!" The Aedifex gestured the man back. "Now, I'm glad you suppressed your weapon as to not awaken these two beauties beside me, but please, man, let's just be civil about this."

Trembling, the man hesitantly returned to the table. "I... did not bring the money. The plan was to take the documents and kill you."

"Look, we can make a deal, it's pretty simple." Aedifex rose from his seat, pacing around the man. Leaning in close to the Sanjari. "Real simple. You brought your satellite phone, didn't you? To alert your friends when the job was done?"

"I was going to directly relay the info to them... sir." The Sanjari replied, shaken. The pistol remained in the man's hands.

"Then I believe it's safe to say you aren't necessary." In a moment's notice, he'd snatched the man's pistol and put two bullets in his head, scattering blood about the marble floor.

Oh, bother. Aedifex thought, kneeling over to take the satellite phone. I guess I'll have to clean up before those two awaken... in a bit.

Without a hassle, he made the call — the Sanjari had been foolish enough to attach a piece of note paper to the phone, facilitating the job.

"Is the job done?" The voice asked.

"Somewhat." Aedifex replied. "Your friend is dead, but I intend to complete the deal and give you the information regardless."

"Out with it, then."

"Well," Aedifex chuckled. "You're going to want to write down these coordinates..."

Contingency

Great Qarik Desert

10 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

They were nearing the Qariki border now, traversing the ancient ruins of Qasrok. Ancient buildings and monuments to the vices of man that'd been surrounded them as they traversed forward. It was almost midnight now, and Nox's only intents upon arriving back at base were to get a well-deserved rest.

He wasn't with his section — they were on one of the other tanks, so he hadn't a clue of what was going on beyond his rather awkward sharing of space with Jay. He'd gotten to know the tank's operator a bit in the four or so hours they'd spent traversing the desert together.

"You think they'd let me serve with you lot?" Jay lowered the rags obscuring his face to smile. Perhaps Nox was terribly deprived since the deployment, but he found something cute in the effeminate desert scavenger before him.

I shouldn't think like that. He thought. "With the situation we're in?" Nox then asked. "I wouldn't be surprised. There's Sanjaris coming in from every angle — we're not gonna last forever, not until reinforcements arrive, anyway.

Climbing the ladder again to take a peek from the hatch, Nox looked about. The ruins of Qasrok loomed ominously around the prototype, and he could see the other tanks were tagging not far behind.

The tank with the rest of his section was close by, Sandra and the others waving to him as he popped his head out of the hatch. A friendly enough gesture, he supposed.

BOOM

In a moment, Nox was on the desert sand, his helmet only barely protecting him from what would've been a serious head injury. An explosion had brought the XBT-1982 to a halt, panels of armor falling loose as burning flames blazed across the front of the vehicle. By the looks of it, whatever it was had been a near miss — hitting right in front of the vehicle. An AGM, perhaps?

BOOM

Another missile detonated, sending loose concrete flying and bringing a section of one of the ruined buildings to collapse. The falling section smashed one of the light tanks — but the bad luck did not end there. The tank, now immobilized, was bathed in gunfire as what was unmistakably a Sanjari fighter aircraft swooped down to strafe it. It exploded — leaving no doubts as to the crew's fate. It wouldn't be the first.

The formation, confused by the chaos erupting around them, began to hurriedly attempt to get to safer positions, utilizing the dunes and ruins as concealment and cover.

From the ground, Nox could see the tank with his section atop it. It'd come to a stop under the cover of one of the skeletal remains of the skyscrapers, while the section itself hurried over to Nox.

"Sanjari aircraft are strafing us all over! We gotta—" Daniel was interrupted as Nox raised his head, clearly irritated.

"That's pretty fuckin' obvious, corporal."

"Shit, sir! Are you alri—" Michael was interrupted quickly enough.

"Sir, are you alright?" Sandra hurried over, hands shaking as she lifted Nox's face, worriedly looking into his eyes.

"I am." Nox replied. Struggling to his feet, he hurried to the prototype tank. "But he ain't!" Nox shouted.

His head was beginning to ache as the reality of the fall began to set in, and his ears still painfully rang from the blast. It didn't matter, though. Hopping up to the turret, Nox cautioned away from the nearby spurts of flame, hopping in through the hatch.

The blast had done a number to the crew compartment, shrapnel from what'd once been the screen at the driver's seat scattered about the walls. There, bleeding and semi-conscious, laid Jay. His left hand had been practically destroyed by a particularly nasty piece of metal, and it was obvious the bleeding wouldn't stop unless he did something about it.

With his combat knife, Nox cut loose his right uniform sleeve, tying it around the gruesome gash of torn muscle and bone that'd become of Jay's hand.

"I...gotta...drive...the...ta..nk..." He managed to mouth the words, eyes weakly looking up to Nox.

"Don't worry about this anymore." Nox pulled the scavenger out of the driver's seat, then, with great effort, brought him up the ladder with him. He dropped him down to the sands below, gesturing his squad to help him.

"Get him treated!" Nox shouted, pointing to Jay's injured form on the sand.

"What about you, sir?!" Sandra shouted back.

"I'm going to complete the mission we've been given!"

Leaping back in, Nox hurried to the driver's seat. He didn't have a clue how to operate a tank, much less a 400-year old prototype. Yet somehow... it was a lot less unfamiliar than he'd expected.

The vehicle pressed forward, sparks flying from dangling wires for reasons Nox did not know — or wish to know. He almost jerked back his legs in a panic as he saw the flames had begun to spread to the crew compartment through the holes the blast had put into the vehicle's armor. It was quickly approaching his feet, which brought him into quite the panic.

I gotta keep going. He assured himself, maintaining the tank's advance at full speed. If he was lucky enough, he'd cross the border into Qarik and the entire ordeal would be over with.

As the tank ascended a dune, a loud BRRRRRR behind him indicated the aircraft were still onto him, attempting to strafe him. He didn't know enough about driving the vehicle to know how he'd do anything but drive straight forward — and that was exactly what he was doing.

Nox felt a burning sensation shoot up his leg, to which he grimaced, biting his tongue in agony. The flames were still spreading, alright.

The tank descended the dune, a sole CTHUNK sounding off as a stray round from the strafing run struck the turret as he traveled down. He'd breathe a sigh of relief — if his left leg was not on fire.

Come on, come on... His mind was going wild with pain as he pressed forward. Just ahead, through the destroyed remains of the observation ports, he could see it — the old border crossing post. The tank picked up speed in its descent, violently shaking as it sped directly toward the kiosk that'd once been manned in peacetime.

Nox was jerked back as the tank slammed through the border post, speeding into Qarik. The tank pressed on, plowing through debris until it came to an abrupt halt inside one of the ruined buildings.

/// [E░PHFOR] - [FS ░th Army] - [░░░ Divis░on] - [░░th Exp░rimen░░░ Armor░d Regi░░nt] - [░░░] - [░░░ Comp░░y] - [AI CaSSandra v.0.2, Copyright 1990 Elcor-Heimwitz Ltd.] /// - "Activating flame retardants."

Blue foam cascaded from hardpoints all over the crew compartment, immediately putting out the fires around Nox. Breathing a sigh of relief, he lay back in his seat, covered in flame retardant. It'd been an unprecedented adrenaline surge, one which made him pass out almost instantly after the task's completion.

Hot Summer Nights

FSS Alexandria

11 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

"On March 4, 2 A.C.; LtCol. Martin C. Fairbanks led the original pilots of VFA-125 forward to strike the Velikoslavian aircraft carrier Vityaz. Their mission cost them their lives, but decimated the Velikoslavian Navy's capacity to invade the Euphemian mainland. Later that year, the Siege of Torch City would be repulsed and Euphemie declared its triumph in the War."

— Federal Archives; 67 A.C.

For William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves, it'd been a typical day — until the alarms went off and he'd been given a brief set of printed orders. The Sanjaris had sent their Western Fleet in chase of the FSS Alexandria Battlegroup, and it wouldn't be long until both sides were in engagement range.

Down the corridor approached his superior and Weapon Systems Officer, Marie Felix. "You came ready. Good, then." She began her way down the hall. "We're launching earlier than expected — the Sanjari fleet's headed straight towards us."

"Any specifics?" Billy asked, following closely behind.

"NACC^[5] will give us the QR when we're airborne. We'll have a mixed loadout best suited for dealing with aircraft and ships alike." She stopped at one of the open doors in the hall, which led up a flight of stairs. "And remember, we're in the big leagues now. Ain't no turnin' back."

Billy continued following his WSO, climbing the steps to an antechamber busy with crewmen. He paid them no mind, passing through another door that led to a walkway along the port side of the FSS Alexandria (CVN-115), to which he ascended another flight of steps until the two were walking upon the Alexandria's flight deck.

Awaiting the two was their F-13 Hexmaiden, in typical VFA-125 livery.

"Sanjaris are in for a surprise." Marie put her helmet on, climbing the ladder situated at the side of the Hexmaiden.

"Damn right they are." Slipping on his helmet, Billy climbed aboard the Hexmaiden. Off in the distance, he could see the smoke-trails of cruise missiles being launched from other vessels of the battlegroup, trailing off into the cloudy night skies above.

"Closing the canopy." Marie announced. The canopy of the F-13 slowly descended, hydraulic hums following its movement as it shut over their heads.

Looking ahead, he could also see another Hexmaiden was ahead of them.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [Naval Launch Command, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Spades 2-2, you'll be up next."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Roger, over."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [Naval Launch Command, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Run a prelim."^[6]

"Check the flaps, will you?" Testing both the right and left flaps, he looked back to Marie.

"All's good." Marie glanced to both sides, her check confirmed by deck crewmen. "Start up your HMD."

"Right." Billy plugged the wire from his helmet into a rather bulky outlet, flipping its corresponding switch. Slowly, the display came to life, a series of different test patterns appearing and disappearing on the visor until all was ready.

"Weapons good and countermeasures operational." Marie added.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Prelim check."

"Good luck..." Flipping a few more switches situated in the cockpit, Billy watched the other F-13 start its afterburners, swiftly taking off into the night sky.

"And fair seas!" Marie finished.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [Naval Launch Command, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Spades 2-2, you're up."

The carrier crew on-deck, with their typical gestures, gave Billy the OK. The engines started with a thunderous roar, the F-13 speeding down the CATOBAR lane and off into the night sky. The sea glimmered beneath them as the F-13 soared off into the clouds.

"Gear up." He noted, listening to the hydraulic 'hum' of the landing gear rising into place.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "Spades 2-2, this is Spades 2-4, we're aligning, port side."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Roger."

The two aircraft sped on through the night sky, making a westbound curve over the FSS Alexandria before resuming an eastbound course towards the Sanjari fleet.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "Spades 2-2, this is Spades 2-6, aligning starboard side."

The third Hexmaiden accelerated to join them, soon slowing down as they aligned. To its own starboard side was another Hexmaiden, equalling a total of two flights of four aircraft in total.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Three of the five Ereshkigal-class battlecruisers are present in the AO. Along with the Taqar-class DDGs, they should be the priority of this operation, along with taking out Sanjari aircraft. You're cleared to engage."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Phantomhand to all forces. Total count of Sanjari aircraft estimated to be 54. Primarily ASF-371 'Ninlil' third-gen sweep-wing fighters. Do not underestimate them."

Glancing to the RWR, Billy smirked. Euphemie had about 24 aircraft deployed, compared to the 54 the enemy possessed. Of course, they were superior to the outdated Sanjari airframes, even if the Hexmaidens themselves were an aging aircraft in their own right.

"Do your thing." He said to Marie, continuing to focus on what lay ahead. As the formation passed the thin shroud of the cloudline, Billy spoke on the radio again.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Breaking formation."

"Got a lock on one ASF flying near the INS Ereshkigal. Locking on now." Marie said. The vessel, and the aircraft Marie was targeting for that matter, were almost a hundred kilometers away from them.

Maintaining a steady course ahead, Billy took a moment to open up a video screen on the HMD, viewing the target aircraft. It was patrolling near the Ereshkigal, as if to protect it.

"Firing AIM-176 ARGO missiles." Marie announced from behind Billy. A bright flash of light erupted as a single missile flew off towards its target.

It seemed as though the pilot didn't realize it until it was too late — as he attempted a sharp Chandelle turn and a releasing of flares, the missile struck, the explosion erupting above the Ereshkigal.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "Engaging targets."

Distant streaks of missiles traveled across the night sky, bound for the Sanjari aircraft advancing from the east.

On his RWR, he could see the blips of Sanjari aircraft diminishing one by one. Twenty-four against fifty-four quickly became twenty-four against thirty.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "The Sanjari fleet's radar-based air defenses have been incapacitated by SEAD. All units are clear to move in."

With that, Billy allowed the aircraft to accelerate, closing the distance down to 30 kilometers. The other aircraft had similarly followed suit, as they approached the fleet from afar.

Explosions lit the night as missiles struck their targets: various vessels of the Sanjari fleet.

"Firing AGM-379 RUBEDO missile." Marie announced.

Billy watched intently as the missile soared past, speeding towards the Ereshkigal. It descended just above the water, at an angle that guaranteed the inability of the Sanjari vessel's CIWS to respond.

"Nice, nice." Billy watched the feed through his HMD, taking note of the explosion that spread across the port side of the Ereshkigal.

"Splash confirmed."

To avoid getting too close, Billy made an abrupt southbound turn. However, he could see little dots of light sporadically appearing in the night sky, around the ships.

"You see those?" Billy asked. The aircraft begun a westbound maneuver, to come back around on an eastern course.

"They couldn't be..." Marie almost laughed at the sight. "They're still using flak?"

One particular source of a lot of the light was, undoubtedly, the Ereshkigal they'd just inflicted damages upon.

"Let's go for another round on the BC." As Billy completed the turn, he started the afterburners — quickly sending them on the approach towards the Ereshkigal.

"Firing." Marie announced. Another RUBEDO missile sped off towards its target, soon culminating in a violent detonation. The missile had veered off-course to its original target of the port side, striking the bridge and detonating. The explosion seemed to have spread across the vessel's superstructure, and its lights went out. Only flames lit the ill-fated vessel now.

The chirping sound of the RWR indicated one of the remaining Sanjari aircraft was onto them. Launching flares, he conducted an Immelmann maneuver, which set the two aircraft on a direct converging path.

"This one's gonna be a gamble!" Billy shouted over the engines roaring, the aircraft becoming progressively closer.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "Spades 2-2, be careful, you've got an ASF-389 Kalat headed straight for you!"

The ASF-389 was one of the newer 'adaptations' of Tangaliroan designs, though vastly upgraded. They were few in number, as they'd entered service only two years prior, but they were certainly a force to be reckoned with.

"I've got this." Marie announced. The Hexmaiden's single 20mm cannon going off as the aircraft's remaining missiles were launched at the Sanjari aircraft.

Not hesitating, Billy sent their Hexmaiden into a sharp ascent — thinly avoiding the air-to-air missiles and the burning debris of the fighter. "Fern have mercy!" He gasped, watching the husk descend into the nighttime abyss. "That coulda been us." He steadied the aircraft and begun flying west, in the Alexandria's direction.

"You've got me and I've got you. That can't go wrong, can it?" She joked.

"Maybe by the end of all this we'll be aces."

"Now let's get this thing back to the Alexandria..." Marie instructed.

"Roger that." Billy nodded.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Evac Winchester."

by **Valefontaine** » Sat Dec 15, 2018 1:04 am

The Sovereign's Arrival

Nouvelles Canes, Etoile Marin

11 January, A.C. 391

Harsu iv Sanjar
Imperial House of Sanjar
Sanjar Empire

Stepping off the plane, Harsu knew quite well that he could be arrested, detained even due to the circumstances of the war in Qarik. International law was a relic of an era preceding the War that'd changed everything — though Harsu knew, too, that Euphemie itself was a remnant of that era. He'd expect too, then, that they'd respect his diplomatic immunity. After all, the ways of the Old World were weak, for it was the complacency and self-interest of man that'd brought about the fiery horrors of the War.

"Perhaps a little less grand than the Capital," Harsu looked about their surroundings. Of course, their arrival had been expected for the coming summit, even if they had no say in it. He needed no say, for his actions spoke louder than words. "Simple, however. A welcome change of surroundings."

"I much prefer Arslan's bronze-lined streets." Astoreth was one of Harsu's cousins and the Sanjari Minister of State, and he entrusted her with many functions of authority within the Imperial House due to her unwavering loyalty and cold efficiency. Certainly, Harsu thought, she was important to keep by his side.

"What soothing Atlantic winds!" Karduk smiled, his essence graced by the comparatively cooler climate of Etoile Marin. The three Sanjari royals reached the tarmac, walking past the lines of security and onlooking members of the press, until they'd reached a black Qatesh™^[7] SUV.

"Sadat!" A cadre of four uniformed royal guards waiting at the SUV saluted the three, opening the doors for them.

Harsu entered first, reclining comfortably in his seat as Astoreth and Karduk joined him. The guards closed the door, manning a black sedan just behind the SUV. Soon enough, they were perusing the streets of Nouvelle Lunes, Harsu's eyes fixed on the various sights of brick promenades and tourist attractions as the sedan delivered them to the Sanjari embassy — through the scenic route, of course.

"Soon enough, the delegations from the NCA and SSL will arrive in Nouvelle Lunes." Astoreth spoke, though her eyes were fixed on the map of the city she'd brought with her. "While we don't officially hold any sway in the conference to come, our presence will ensure caution in their words."

"The foreign colonizers will know to speak with caution around us," Harsu agreed. "for they know to tread carefully against Sanjar."

Karduk had been, for a time, preoccupied with his phone. Lowering it, he looked to his cousin. Karduk's eyes had a solemn look about them. "Sir, the Western Fleet was defeated by the FSS Alexandria's battlegroup. The remaining vessels are retreating to waters north rather than return to port, to avoid destruction by Euphemian bombings. Euphemian reinforcements to Qarik are now guaranteed."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Lucius™ - Lucius Cigarettes was founded in 364 by Paul Lucius. Due to their flavored variety, clever advertisement and a bit of owed success to political clout and connections, Lucius™ has become the name brand for cigarettes.

2 - Lupercalia - From February 12 to 23, Euphemie celebrates Lupercalia, a festival of love that spurs holiday sale profits.

3 - HVC - The Dycorp Home Video Cassette systems are the most widespread form of recording and playback.

4 - Starlight Crisis - Starlight Crisis was a cyberpunk anime series ran from 381 to 384 set in a near-future Torch City.

5 - NACC - Naval Air Combat Command.

6 - Prelim - Euphemian military speak for a preliminary check. In the case of aircraft, involves a basic check of flaps, weapons and brakes

7 - Qatesh - The Qatesh Automobile Factory is a state owned enterprise in the Empire of Sanjar, providing cars for consumer, military and government uses.

by **Tangaliro** » Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:03 am

Speak of the Devil

"Bay Cottage", Victory Bay, Lowland Region, State of Victoria, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

8 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. Karl W. Ehrenreich
1st Airborne Special Operation "Nachthexe" Platoon, 1C-4B-228ACR
28th Marine "Hundred Thousand Years to the Sacred Union" Division

"Emperor Harsu of the Sanjari Empire is an open-minded person who holds a sincere and noble love for his people, a contrast to his father. It is of utmost shame that his vision could not breach the limits of his Empire’s borders to embrace the greater good."

—Union Protector Generalissimo Shen Xue Wen of All Under Heaven
Private comment on Harsu I iv Sanjar and his father; 387 A.C.

"The Euphemian congress has passed the proposal for intervention in Qarik following the sudden unprovoked Sanjari aggression on the 6th of this month. In response to the ensuing crisis in Qarik, the Union Council has entered into emergency debate over the matter. Experts say that..." Since yesterday, news about the sudden outbreak of the Qarik War had been flowing through the headlines of newspapers and the screens of televisions and computers alike.

Normally, Karl could care less about these news of foreign wars, the Union knew well enough to not overstretch itself to intervene in armed conflicts beyond their reach. This time, however, the proximity of the Qarik War and its relevance to the Union told him good enough that he would likely not be a bystander to it. The Nachthexe was attached to an overseas intervention force intended to project the Union's force into the Meriditerranean Region, so if anything dragged the Union towards a military intervention in the Qarik War, it would be safe to say that he would be seeing himself in the wastelands of Sanjar within days.

"A troubling war, isn't it?" the bartender casually placed a glass of Amurean Dream^[1] before Karl. The bartender, Leonid M. Shenov, was a personal friend of Karl. He was the owner of this little bar restaurant alongside his younger sister. While it was no match to the other larger restaurants lying nearby, business had been good enough for the Shenov sibling to sustain the bar and themselves. Being a frequent customer of the bar, most of the staff here knows and regards Karl as a friend. Leonid, however, was a particularly good friend with Karl.

"A troubling war indeed." Karl took a sip of his drink, then continued. "If I stop coming in the following weeks or months, I'm probably somewhere in Sanjar with my teammates. Don't worry about us, though. We can fend for ourselves."

"Well then, take good care of yourself out there." Leonid nodded. "I will be watching over the situation from here."

"And don't forget to bring us back some stories to share." Leonid's sister, Anna, casually added.

"I will see what I can do." Karl chuckled.

"Want anything else?" Leonid offered. "This one's on the house, just in case, you know, you really get deployed."

"Nah. Thanks for the offer, though." Karl politely rejected his offer. "Gotta make sure I stay awake in the following hours just in case I get recalled."

"Understandable, I wouldn't want to be drunk in such scenario either if I were you." Leonid poured himself a glass of Gallian wine. "Then at least allow me to wish you a good luck, cheers."

"Cheers."

Deja vu

Location Unknown, Tango-Altantsetsegic Border, State of Gallia, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

9 January, A.C. 391

Kruger

"The raiders of the Altantsetseg Khanate know well enough in most cases to avoid provoking the Tangaliroans, however, from time to time, there are a few raiders who would break the norm. While the Khanate has long attempted to maintain a peaceful relationship with the Union, the occasional pillaging of Tangaliroan border settlements by individual raiding bands and general dissents toward their raiding activities against other neighbouring states are driving the Union less and less patient on the recivilization progress south of their borders."

—WorldWideWiki, Tango-Altantsetseg Khanate Relation

Kruger quietly approached a border village. He could hear gunshots and screams coming out from there since minutes ago. Not that he cared about the safety of these villagers, but just in case if one of these people or her were there, he would not want them killed. The Atlantsetsegic raiders have long avoided clashing with the border settlers since they learnt their lesson decades ago with the price of countless raiding parties wiped out. At times, however, there were always these few arrogant ones who thought they could get away with it unlike the others. Kruger was not surprised at all to come across a raid while wandering in the rural parts of this place, he has already been here for about four years, after all.

Carefully finding himself a safe observation spot, he took out his binocular and scanned across the surroundings of the village. The village, without a doubt, was under raid. In order to protect themselves against the raiders, the settlers of this region had been permitted to form local militias. In most cases, these militias were more than sufficient to fend off the raiders, but occasionally, there were exceptions like this one. It seems apparent this raiding party was a pretty well-armed one of their kind, possessing an arsenal of light makeshift artillery and heavily-armored technicals in their party, a rare case among independent raiding parties.

"They must have prepared specifically for this." Kruger thought aloud. He could already deduce that the village militia would not hold out for long. The border guards were no where to be seen. If the raiders manage to breach through the defenses of the village, an ill fate awaits its occupants. Kruger did not really care, though, the face of his old acquaintances were not spotted among the villagers.

He slowly turned away, preparing to leave, but he soon changed his mind. At the blast of a cannon, the village wall collapsed. Soon, the militias were seen deserting their posts and running for their life. Some straightly reached for a hiding spot, while the rest got to their family first.

Somewhere deep down in Kruger's mind, he found this scenery before him familiar. He felt that, at one point in his past life, he has been there before, powerless against his own fate. The old man did not wipe away the memory of him, but after this many years, it would be hard to recollect all details at once. He thought he has already stopped caring about others since a long time ago, but whats unfolding before him, he could not understand, but it felt extremely discomforting.

The leader of the band was busy commanding his fellow raiders from a safe distance. Suddenly, a man in an old military trench coat approached from the back of the formation.

"Halt!" Two of the raiders blocked the path of Kruger.

"Cease your raid at once." Kruger said in fluent Atlantsetsegic. "You know nothing good can come out of this."

He spoke calmly, but the raiders could still subtly feel his anger under the tone. The two raiders looked at each other, confused at this enigmatic man who appeared before them from no where, then laughed at his ridiculous request.

Who does he think he is? They thought.

"Then how about a deal? I have a little money here with me. Take them, and leave this place at once." Kruger showed his wallet. While he would have preferred to just kill everyone here and leave, the old man has told him to avoid unnecessary confrontations.

"Hahahaha, who do you think you are? Why do we have to leave this village alone for that little wealth of yours?" the leader of the raiders said. "Go before you get into trouble, weird one, you are spared for the entertainment you broug-."

Before he could finish his sentence, a machete flew through one of his raiders' head, splitting his skull into half.

"You bastard!" the other raider quickly raised his rifle, only to be greeted by five fingers thrusting deep into his skull, tearing out his face brutally. The other raiders did not expect the turn of event, they quietly watched without a word as their two brothers fell to their knees, dead before them.

Kruger casually tossed aside the piece of flesh in his right hand, then wiped the blood off his hand with his coat. "I have reasoned, I have compromised, but now, I'm tried of talking. You have one last thing to do here."

Kruger stopped for a moment to pick up his machete and sheathed it inside his coat, then resumed.

"Die."

"Get this bastard!" the leader ordered, firing his pistol at Kruger as the band scattered into cover. Kruger drew out his pair of EZ-66 pistol^[2] and gunned down four raiders who were too slow to get into cover, then backflipped to an unoccupied technical for cover. Albeit outnumbering their foe, the raiders did not gain much advantage in the firefight. It soon came to their realization that the man they were facing was a seasoned soldier.

However, without any prior warning, the pistol fire stopped. The raiders continued shooting for a bit, then stopped as well.

"Boss, he stopped shooting!" a raider yelled.

"Check the place out!" the leader ordered. Several raiders carefully walked out of their covers and approached the technical used by their foe as cover. To their surprise, however, Kruger was not there.

"Where did he go?" one of them said, looking around. Then, he saw something sprang up from the ground. Looking up to see what it was, he was met by a flash bang. "Wha-"

Boom

Blinded by the light, the raiders began spraying in random directions in panic, some killing each other in the process. Once the effect of the flash bang faded away, the raiders looked around in confusion, clueless of the situation.

Before they could react, Kruger jumped out from the other side of the technical, he was hiding below the technical all along. With an unknown technique, he thrusted his hands deep into the chests of one of them, then, with sheer force, brutally tore the men into two.

Kruger then picked up the rifle of his victim and bestowed a hell of bullets upon his unprepared foes. When he ran out of ammo, he charged up to the nearest raider and smashed the rifle stock onto his face, then proceeded with the rampage using his machetes.

On the other side of this battlefield, exploiting the sudden retreat of the raiders in response to the chaos ensuing behind them, a part of the village militias took the time to regroup and began their counterattack. With the border guards drawing closer and closer every second, it became apparent to the raiders that they have already failed.

"Stop! Stop! We surrender! Please, stop hitting us!" His will to fight shattered by the monstrous rampage before him, the leader walked out of cover with his hands high up. The other raiders dropped their weapons and followed suit. Soon, Kruger had the remaining raiders outside of the village rounded up before him.

"Thats all of us left. Please, spare us!" the leader knelt down and pleaded. Kruger briefly scanned the raiders, then picked up an assault rifle from the ground, examining it quietly.

"Do you want it? We can give it to you! Just let us go, please!" the leader quickly added.

To the raiders' relief, Kruger quietly nodded. Just when they stood up and turned their back, preparing to pack up and leave, Kruger suddenly opened fire, killing everyone but the leader himself. The leader could only watch in awe as his brothers fell one by one to Kruger's gunshots.

"You monster!" The leader drew out and emptied the revolver he secretly hid beneath his jacket at Kruger, but all of the shots missed, his hand was shivering greatly with fear and anger.

Kruger smirked at the futile attempt of the leader. He casually walked up to the leader. Then, without a word, he violently grabbed the leader's revolver and kicked him onto the ground. Searching his pocket, he quickly loaded the revolver full with bullets and pressed it against the leader's jaw. "You have one chance, speak."

"I'm...I'm sorry!" the leader said, his voice shaking. "Please, let me go! I have a family!"

Kruger quietly stared at the leader for a few seconds, then lowered the pistol. The leader quickly thanked Kruger for his benevolence, then attempted to stand up, only to be shot in his left leg. He fell down holding his wound, rolling at the pain. The bullet has hit his femoral artery.

"Couldn't hear." Kruger casually remarked. "Speak it again."

The leader had no choice but to comply, he weakly repeated his plead, only to be shot in his right leg in the same position.

"Speak louder." Kruger ordered.

The leader did not speak anything, the pain was too much for him.

"Too slow." Kruger casually shot the left shoulder of the leader. The leader groaned again in agony, but could do nothing against it.

"Try again." Kruger ordered again.

This time, the leader pleaded in the largest voice he could manage, pushing himself to limit.

"Wrong answer." Kruger fired at his right shoulder. The leader was too tired and numb to even groan to the pain.

"To say, where were you when your previous victims were pleading for life?" Kruger said as he checked the remaining rounds of the revolver, then pointed it towards the forehead of the leader.

Bang

Reunion

Countryside of a small town, Qariki-Sanjari border region, Empire of Sanjar

11 January, A.C. 391

Aamir Hajjar, an honest ordinary peasant
The good husband to his wife and father to two children

"The QD-289 'HUMBABA' (NCA reporting name TD-48-S 'Sanjari Zeder') is a tank destroyer in reserve service of Sanjari military, reverse-engineered from a pre-Calamity design of presumed South Sinican army origin, albeit with huge changes to overcome its various shortcomings. The original design, Objekt-289 'Zeder', was developed by the Union Steel and Machinery Corporation under the order of the Union government during the earlier years of the Union, the project was intended as an exploration for transitional solutions to arm the armored fighting force of the Union against potential armored threats during the recovery of the Union's industrial capacity. Due to the progress of industrial recovery, however, the design did not manage to enter widespread service inside the army before it was phased out in favor of more modern armored fighting vehicles.

When the Sanjari Empire first approached Tangaliro for support in modernizing their army, the Objekt-289 was provided as a proposed transitional design to serve in the role of supporting the limited number of UC-142 'Zver' (NCA reporting name MBT-168-S 'Sanjari Zver') in the Sanjari fighting forces against highly-armored targets back then. The design stayed to serve the Sanjari Army under the designation name "HUMBABA" with continued effort of modernization up until more recent years, where it was phased out of active service in favor of modern ATGM carriers. Currently, known modernization modification they have done to the design includes electronic component upgrades, improvement of fire control system, refitting of the main gun with a domestic 125mm smoothbore design capable for launching their TGK-78 'GILGAMESH' ATGM (NCA reporting name AT-180 'Firecracker') and installation of auto loader.

While an obsolete design, our analysis on the vehicle suggests that while the rate of survival of such vehicle on modern battlefield would not be high, the firepower of the vehicle is sufficient to create a notable threat to unsuspecting modern main battle tanks entering their range unaware of their presence. In a hypothetical armored confrontation scenario with the Sanjari Army, these vehicles should be considered high-priority targets if encountered."

—National Defense Department Internal Report,
"Sanjari Arsenal: Statistics and Analysis; 390 A.C. Edition"; 390 A.C.

Hajjar quietly sat at the front of his house, watching as the sun set into the horizon. The village felt much more empty after the outbreak of the War, with much of its young population joining the Sanjari Army in their cause to liberate the people of Qarik. If he had been younger and fit for service, he would have joined them as well.

As he quietly thought about his golden days on the battlefield, a military truck slowly drove past him.

The casualties must have been high at the front line. He thought. Hajjar may not be a professional, but he was still aware of how the Sanjari military works. By the frequency of army recruiter coming to the village, he could already deduce that a lot of those youngsters would not be back after the war. Hajjar, however, did not pity them, they died for the Emperor's cause, it is an honour that he would not reject if he had been them. Sadly, however, the army does not need an old man at the front line.

"Hajjar, is that you?" A familiar voice disrupted Hajjar from his thought. He turned toward the speaker, while the military officer before him had aged a lot just like him, he could still clearly recognize the face.

"Arash!?" Hajjar stood up. To his pleasant surprise, the man standing before him was a close comrade in arm of his back in his old days in the army.

"It's been a long time!" Arash hopped down from the truck. The two dearly embraced each other. The two had been dear friends forged together by the bond of blood and sweat on the battlefield since a long time ago. Arash was the gunner of Hajjar's crew back then. In the old days, Arash would hit anywhere Hajjar pointed at with his recoiless gun, the flawless tacit understanding and coordination between the two has won them countless battles. After Hajjar retired from his military career, the then younger Arash chose to become an officer to continue his service to the Emperor's cause. It has been many years since they have last met, but they could still remember each other clearly.

"Soldiers, this is the legendary Hajjar I've always spoke of. An old but imperishable hero of the Empire! Look at him, even after his retirement from military service, he maintained his discipline as a soldier and remained a dignified and honest man, serving the Empire by being a responsible citizen. You should all take him as a role model and learn from him!" Arash excitedly introduced Hajjar to his soldiers.

"I'm merely doing what I should." Hajjar was humbled by the boasting of Arash. Scanning at the young soldiers on the truck, he nodded in approval.

"Sadat!" He saluted the soldiers with a perfectly standard salute, a great proof that he did not forget about his training. The soldiers and Arash quickly returned the salute with respect. The soldiers and Hajjar stood still, saluting each other. After seconds, Hajjar lowered his hand first. "I wish you all good luck on the battlefield, win us the war, and don't forget, the Emperor is always with us!" He declared, almost sobbing in excitement. "Win us the war, warriors of the Empire! Win us the war in my place!"

That being said, he has finally calmed down. He turned to Arash. "Farewell, my dear friend. I am already old, but if the Empire one day needs me, I will be ready. So, if that day comes," he firmly stared into the eyes of Arash. "Do no hesitate to call me, cause I will be waiting."

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Amurean Dream - A kind of cocktail invented in Tangaliro, the creator of the cocktail is said to be inspired by his own dream about a distant unknown city with a fascinating neon skyline.

2 - EZ-66 - A 9mm-caliber semi automatic pistol developed by the Tangaliroan armament company East Zachodslawian Simple Machinery Corporation based on a popular pre-Calamity design of east Zachoslawian origin. While civilian in most regions of Tangaliro were not allowed to possess firearms, exceptions were given to the residents of rural border regions for self-defense against minor hostile incursions when the border guards were not be able to respond immediately. In other cases, personnel of private security contractor companies were also licensed to carry firearms at work.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Fri Dec 21, 2018 8:32 pm

Rajapur, Acasian Port Cities
Hoshangabad Legation Complex
Constantin Ioan Romanescu

The courtyard of the official embassy of the Hoshangabad Raj to Acasia stood empty, except for the presence of Ambassador Constantin I. Romanescu and his honor guard of twelve Acasian soldiers, assigned to follow him whenever he received a diplomatic official. Interestingly, Constantin was inside Hoshangabad's embassy, waiting for the Hoshangabadi envoy to arrive. The reason for this was that seven years prior, Acasia had instituted a rule stating that foreign envoys couldn't be present on embassy grounds during nights to help prevent an incident where the charge d'affairs of an incredibly minor Free City successfully assassinated Romaescu's predecessor. Said incident spiraled into a local riot which left three dead, so needless to say Acasia was not intent on letting such an incident repeat itself. Romanescu had arrived at around 6:30AM after waking up about an hour previously, since he had a particularly busy schedule today. The main portion of the day though would be dedicated to this meeting with the Raj's envoy, D. N. Srinagesh. Much of Romanescu's responsibilities revolved around official Acasian foreign policy, which strongly emphasized the fact that the various dis-united territories of the Vajrayan Empire must be pitted against themselves. By "pitting the territories against themselves", that was interpreted to mean encouraging particularly powerful groups of the Empire to fight each other. Acasia achieved that by using it's influence in the country, both diplomatically and militarily, to get what they wanted.

Two years prior, C. A. P. Satagopacharya II, the Crown Prince of the Gonshawar Dynasty had been elected Emperor of Emperors by the Elector Rajas of the Vajrayan Empire following the reign of his father of the same name. Satagopacharya's father was considered to be rather mentally ill, being quite a paranoid person to the point of killing his personal secretary after he had incorrectly determined she was to stab him with a hidden knife in her coat pocket. The Electors of Udaynarpur, Jharbahal and Sindhanur all stated that they were of the opinion that Satagopacharya I was unfit to rule, and Jamsharkot's Elector Raja along with Acasia were inclined to agree. The Elector Rajas convened at the Imperial Capital, Ushmanapur to vote for a new leader.

That election, and the direct fallout of it, was why Romanescu was meeting with Hoshangabad's envoy today. The Udaynarpur Raj had put up their own candidate for the throne, Vani Vilasa Pathak, the brother of Raja Narasimhaswamy IV. Vani Vilasa Pathak had received a strong military education, while his older brother had always been more inclined to be a ruler, so the nobility of Udaynarpur wanted Narasimhaswamy to be elected, something he agreed to, while Vani would lead Udaynarpur and expand it's holdings. Udaynarpur had offered large amounts of it's vast riches to the other Electors in exchange for electing Vani Pathak, and it would have worked, except for one thing. Romanescu, who had been observing the whole situation, feared that Udaynarpur would try to unite the entire empire. In a meeting with some of the most highest ranking leaders of Acasia, they authorized him to use any means necessary to prevent the election of Pathak. Romanescu proceeded to take the matter into his own hands.

Twelve days before the election was scheduled to be held, gunmen, officially from a small city in the western portions of the Imperial Territory of the Gonshawar Dynasty murdered Vani Vilasa Pathak at his hotel in Ushmanapur. Narasimhaswamy IV was devastated by this news, and mourned his brother's death. In the meantime, the Elector of Udaynarpur, under orders from Narasimhaswamy to not nominate any other candidates, simply refused to vote at the election. In his absence, Satagopacharya II was elected Emperor of Emperors. This posed a significant legal challenge for Udaynarpur. There was no imperial legislation detailing what happened if an elector voted for nobody. The custom was that any Elector who wanted none of the serious candidates to take the throne would vote for himself, but Udaynarpur's elector hadn't done so, he simply hadn't attended the election at all. Romanescu, sensing blood in the water, began to privately propose the idea that Udaynarpur's Elector not attending an election because the Raja had ordered him not to do so could be an indicator that Narasimhaswamy IV did not recognize the legitimacy of the Emperor of the Vajrayan Empire, or that he wished to challenge Imperial authority - tantamount to treason.

Returning to the meeting with the envoy from the Hoshangabad Raj, Romanescu could hear the diplomatic vehicle approaching down the road to the legation. Romanescu's honor guard organized into a line, to the right of where the diplomatic car would pull in, while Romanescu presented himself to the armored vehicle pulling in. The door opened, to reveal D. N. Srinagesh, a modestly-dressed man wearing sunglasses and carrying a briefcase. They both moved to walk inside as they began conversing. As they entered the lobby, Romanescu grabbed a warm cup of coffee he had left on a desk earlier, close to the coffee machine. The two officials walked towards a grand staircase, wooden in material, ascending up towards the second story.

"How goes things?" Romanescu asked, a poor conversation starter but still one. "My maharaj has convened an assembly of his vassals," Srinagesh offered. "About what?" Romanescu pondered. Srinagesh continued, "About Udaynarpur. He has received your communication regarding the most recent election." Romanescu felt relieved that the Maharaj had finally got around to listening to his overtures. "How do the vassals feel?" Romanescu asked, approaching Srinagesh's office. He slid his identification card into the electronic lock before opening the door as he answered the Acasian. "Let us talk in here," he said. Entering and locking the door, Srinagesh approached his chair and continued talking. "Most of the vassals are in agreeance, except for one thing. The kumars of Gauribidyanur and Kolar disagree. I haven't been informed of why." Romanescu sighed. "So close, but so far."

"Why haven't they informed you about the disagreeance?" he asked. "I don't know, but apparently my maharaj is convincing the kumars of the threat Udaynarpur poses. In my personal opinion, I think the kumars don't want to pay for another war. For certain, not one against Udaynarpur. Their coffers are much fuller than ours." Srinagesh replied. Romanescu took a few seconds to think. "Tell the maharaj that Jamsharkot and the Gonshawars will join them along with any other imperial state that knows what's good for it. If Sindhanur and Jharbahal don't know what's best for them to do, so be it." The Vajrayan thought of something to reply back with. "Do you have anything to send to my Majesty other than vague promises of cooperation?" he asked. Romanescu didn't expect the sudden show of wit, but had a promise of his own. "Acasia can provide some military assistance. Limited, of course. If we were to intervene it would most likely be done with airpower above anything else, but we can assist." the ambassador stated.

"Deal."

Rajapur, Acasian Port Cities
Acasian Diplomatic Office, 'Hotel Stolniceni'
Constantin Ioan Romanescu

'Neacsu' took a puff out of one of his Alviman-imported cigars as Romanescu closed the door of the soundproofed room behind him. "Meeting go well?" the shady figure asked. "We've hit a snag," Romanescu said. 'Neacsu' was intrigued. "What now?" Romanescu coughed from the cigar smoke, but continued. "The negotiations with Hoshangabad have stalled. The maharaj and his vassals are split on Udaynarpur. The maharaj and most of his vassals are willing to join the pact we got Jamsharkot and the Gonshawars to sign, but two of them are in staunch opposition. They think it'll be too expensive. Which means the maharaj won't continue talks."

'Neacsu' threw his cigar into a nearby ashtray. "Why do you waste your time? Surely the Vajrayan Empire will follow the whim of it's Emperor, especially Udaynarpur's neighbors." Romanescu shrugged. "Udaynarpur isn't to be underestimated. Our feelers say Sindhanur will not involve itself in our plans, nor will it defend Udaynarpur. Jharbahal and Monpayur both seem willing to defend them in a war." Neacsu rolled his eyes. "What about the Teuton states? Kammelsberg and the Semmerings?" Romanescu had an answer for that as well. "About as divided as the rest of the empire. Kammelsberg has all but signed a formal alliance with Udaynarpur, and Semmering is worried about Udaynarpur expanding west. Working on Semmering wouldn't be a bad idea."

"It wouldn't," 'Neacsu' said. "They're actually near Udaynarpur, and can take on Kammelsburg." Romanescu was reminded again of the urgency which he needed to act with. "No point, they'll join when the war starts. We've been lolly-gagging on our asses for too long, Udaynarpur's getting onto the warpath. Local sources have told me their next target is three dinky little city-states, each individually about the size of Rajapur so that they can connect their two primary exclaves. Point is, they're shoving their power around and the status quo needs to be maintained - that being the crushing of anyone that gets too powerful, as is the norm."

Romanescu paused. "Same can be said with the Gonshawars. They're just as bloated as Udaynarpur. Which is why I've got a job for you." 'Neacsu' looked up, wondering what his assignment would be. "We've got a person in Udaynarpur whose job is to act as a quote-on-quote whistleblower, basically someone who feeds whatever information we give them straight to the top without us having to reveal that we delivered said information. Against the whole Empire, Udaynarpur doesn't stand too good a chance, but if it were made aware of the pact forming against them, they could deal significant damage to the Gonshawars before it and their allies could gather their troops. I want you to go and make contact with our whistleblower and arrange for them to find out."

"You paying for the flight ticket?" 'Neacsu' asked. "Yes," Romanescu responded. "We'll be able to pay for it."

Bhuj, Udaynarpur Raj
K. S. Naidu Intl. Airport
Diplomatic Services Agent 'Neacsu'

The immediate premises outside of Bhuj's K. S. Naidu International Airport were remarkably crammed in comparison to Rajapur's wider streets and more spaced out buildings, having densities of buildings almost like slums, teeming with crowded alleyways surely infested with the most seedy elements of the city. The whistleblower 'Neacsu' was assigned to locate was on the other side of the city, he had already determined the best route to take but had no real idea of how to get there. He could just take a taxi, but most of Bhuj's taxi-cabs were privately operated and there existed a casual dislike for Acasians, which in other less civilized parts of the Vajrayan Empire could spark civil disturbance at times. Better then, perhaps, to simply walk to the spot.

After about twenty or so minutes of walking, and many glances from the local population, 'Neacsu' turned up at a rather boring apartment of sorts, painted a dark orangish red. Knocking on the door, he came face to face with his objective, the Acasian whistleblower. "Are you the-" 'Neacsu' went to ask, before being paused. "Yes, come in." the whistleblower said. Entering the apartment, the door was shut and 'Neacsu' decided to properly introduce himself. "I'm from Rajapur, diplomatic corps." he said. The whistleblower nodded in understanding, and responded "You a new guy huh? Fresh face from the usual, I suppose. What you need passed along?" 'Neacsu' coughed, and proceeded to check off his current mission from the checklist. "Word is that the Emperor plans on putting Udaynarpur back into its place. The Gonshawars, along with the Hoshangabad Raj and Jamsharkot have secretly made an unofficial alliance for the purpose of militarily curbing it's power, and most of the other states of the Vajrayan Empire will likely join the Emperor. Acasia thinks it extremely important this news is brought to the Raj's attention." The whistleblower nodded in a contemplative manner. "Thank you, I'll have my people in the palace be made aware."

'Neacsu' nodded, and departed for a hotel room to spend the night before taking another flight back to Rajapur.

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 3:01 pm

Back in the Saddle

Qarik International Airport

13 January, A.C. 391

2Lt. Nox Starrider Night-of-Fire J. Fitzpatrick
1st Tankbuster Platoon, 3C-3B-308DAR
23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division

"The Presidential Order of Patriotism, Action Branch was founded in 84 A.C. in order to better protect the President of the Federal States of Euphemie and serve the Nation. Despite not being part of Federal military, the Presidential Order serves as a highly-trained paramilitary, with six division-sized units at its height. Unlike the Federal military, they accept foreign volunteers — albeit with a rigorous selection process."

— Federal Archive; 102 A.C.

"Hello?" A voice roused Nox from his rest. As his eyes slowly opened, he was overcome with the light of the room, blinking repeatedly as he took in his surroundings. Standing at the bedside was Sandra, his second in command.

"Sergeant?" Nox mustered, sitting up in his bed. Looking down to his legs, he noticed they were covered in bandages. It all came back to him then — the prototype tank, the attack, everything.

"You've been in and out of consciousness for the past 2 days. Unfortunately," She was interrupted as Nox spoke.

"When can I get back?" Nox asked, straight to the point.

"...right. Reinforcements from the 13th Airborne Division arrived, and General Bangle is determined to force the Sanjaris out of Qarik entirely, using every able-bodied soldier we've got. That means you're back in action, sir."

"I need only my uniform," He left his bed, clad only in a basic pair of shorts and a shirt. "and my rifle."

"Sir, there's just one thing—" Sandra followed behind, but stopped as the door to the hospital room opened.

In entered Colonel Henry Knight, CO of 308th Drop Armored Regiment. Light wrinkles on his face told the story of many middle-aged officers in the Airborne. Approaching Nox, he spoke. "I must commend your efforts with the retrieval. The prototype's been shipped back to Euphemie. The tank's operator is still recovering in the hospital, but he'll be with your unit temporarily once he's released."

"We're being ordered to advance, sir?" Nox questioned.

"That'd be correct. We're going to push the Sanjaris out of Qarik by the end of the day." Knight handed Nox a pack of playing cards, grinning. "Good luck charm, eh?"

The platoon of tankbusters had set up shop in the dingy, mortar-ravaged hulk of concrete that had once been the Qarik Lotus Hotel. From the 33rd floor, the 1st Section had an excellent view of the open wastes beyond the highway, and the slowly-progressing tank battle that was transpiring.

"The Qarikis believe..." Michael had occupied the couch of the living room, voice recorder in hand. He typically sent these recordings out to his sister, who was back home in Turmenista. "...that somewhere in those neverendin' desert sands, there's an ancient ol' base filled with treasures from before the war. Maybe this war'll last long enough for me to see it, who knows?" He chuckled. "I'm with the squad as usual, shootin' tanks. Sanjari cocksuckers never know what hits 'em. Sometimes the top of the tank blows off, flies a good twenty feet into the air before comin' back down. It's weird, y'know? Just watching it from a distance. It's like you're not even there. Anyway, I gotta go. Talk to you later, sis." Michael left the sofa, cutting short the recording.

"Sending to your sister?" Nox exhaled a puff of smoke, lowering his cigarette from his mouth as he lay beside his own rifle. He was at the balcony doors — the balcony had collapsed awhile ago, so he was effectively at the window.

"Family's important, y'know? She's the only person I really keep in touch with back home these days." Michael kneeled down, focusing through his rifle's scope.

"Yeah, sure is." Nox aimed his rifle towards the desert sands off to the east.

Q-bies are barely holding onto that patch of shitty sand. The 308th should be comin' any second now, help those incompetent shmucks outta their ordeal.

A column of four UC-160 Utnapishtim MBTs perused the dunes, their turrets aiming about, hunting for the inferior Qariki MBT-M72 Hennessey tanks like predators seeking their prey.

"Got visual on four tanks." Nox announced.

"I see 'em too, sir." Sandra perked up, carefully aiming ahead.

"Same here." Michael added.

"Opening fire." Nox focused on the tank leading the formation, pulling the trigger. The clamorous BOOM was followed by the 25mm casing hitting the tile flooring with a unique clink, rolling about the floor as it soon came to a stop near Michael.

In a moment's notice, the tank had been engulfed in a fireball. The distracted gunner, who had idly been at the machinegun atop the tank, had been sent into the air along with fragments of the turret — not entirely in one piece, either.

Fuckin' disgusting. Nox watched the charred body hit the sand. If he'd been there, he'd have probably heard a thud or a crack, if the poor soul's bones were still intact from being directly on the blast.

The other three tanks immediately came to a stop at the surprise attack, aiming about as if to find the culprit. As they began backing up, Michael and Sandra fired in unison, immobilizing one of the tanks and setting the other alight.

Flames rose from the hatch of the burning tank, soon followed by a series of explosions as the ammunition ignited. In the series of shots that followed, the other two tanks were dealt with, in the typical fashion.

"Our light tanks are moving in, sir." Daniel announced from his post at the radio.

"Watch 'em go." Sandra eyed the advance of the LT-M9 tanks across the dunes, and soon the tank battle commenced. The slow-moving Sanjari MBTs struggled to perform along the dunes — and were threatened not only by the advance of the entire regiment's 48 tanks, but copious amounts of anti-tank fire from the many tankbuster platoons in the buildings overlooking the wasteland.

Paired with the constant coming and going of Euphemian aircraft launching CAS and precision strikes, it was the beginning of the end for Sanjar's first wave of forces.

Golgotha

Golgotha, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

13 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

"The Tunneler Society has achieved its goal of a land dictated not by the rules of law, but of the individual and his liberties. A haven untouched by the bureaucrat and his statism. The New Axiom Project is a success."

— Father One declares New Axiom a success (present-day Golgotha); 8 A.C.

They'd spent several days beneath the surface in Golgotha, at a hotel named 'the Seventh Heaven'. Like much of Golgotha, it didn't exactly have the finest conditions. The absence of architectural codes and regulations meant many costs were avoided — beyond the cramped condition of their room, they could also constantly hear the sounds of whoever was occupying the adjacent room.

Pierce lay in bed, not far from Bianka, who was watching the lights of Golgotha outside. Strange echoes reverberated through the cavernous space, filling the distant ambient of Golgotha's anarchic streets with eerie sounds.

"Can you fire a gun?" Pierce asked.

"My bodyguard, he taught me how to fire a weapon... back when I was still living in Tangaliro." She looked off into the distance. "That tower there looks down upon all there is... what's up there?"

Above the decadent architectural developments of Golgotha there lay a single tower, which seemed to have been part of the old bunker system. It had a view over the entire city, a single set of glass windows at its top.

"I've been monitoring comms." Pierce pointed to the radio equipment scattered about the floor. "They think they've been compromised by the feds — but in their paranoia, they assume it's from within. Those in that building... killed Erika, undoubtedly."

"We're going there?"

"Yeah," Pierce sat up in the bed, opening his jacket, revealing it was filled to the brim with ammunition. Another Executor .50 pistol was holstered inside, as well. Taking the pistol out of his coat and setting it on the adjacent table, he laid out five magazines of ammunition beside it. "You're not just some defenseless young girl, are you?"

"The Ziekowski family was once one of the most powerful political dynasties in Tangaliro. Backing the movement for democracy, it soon became a target for the hardliners. I fled the country when my family was purged, taking with me some of the family fortune to survive." Bianka explained.

Pierce paused, letting out a light chuckle. "Take that gun, then. You'll need to defend yourself. Someone like you, down here... has got a price on them." He got out of bed, fetching his pistol from another drawer. "A certain 'Mr. Trent' has just entered the Tower. He knows what we need to know. Again, I'm sorry I got you into all this."

"No." Bianka shook her head. "Those who killed my friend need to face justice."

Beginning of the End

FSS Alexandria

14 January, A.C. 391

Col. Augustus James H.B. Marlow
5th Special Operations Element
1st AB Order Division "Nightstalkers"
Presidential Order of Patriotism, Action Branch

"I swear by God and the President of Euphemie, this sacred pledge,
that I shall loyally and sincerely serve the President, the Euphemian people and the nation,
and I shall not fear to give my life,
should duty demand it so.
There will be no mountain too tall,
no obstacle too great,
no enemy too powerful.
I shall conscientously fulfill my duties as a soldier and a Patriot, so help me God."

— Presidential Order Oath; written 87 A.C.

Marlow watched the clock across from his lone bed in the room. Special quarters were typically given to individuals of higher priority such as himself. He was a member of the Presidential Order of Patriotism's 'Action Branch', which comprised an elite group exclusively loyal to the President of the Federal States of Euphemie. They weren't technically military, and a great many of them were even foreign soldiers, to ensure they had no local political ties. Sometimes, too, they'd conduct missions like the one Marlow was about to conduct...

In his hands, he held a single order, which he'd read hundreds of times over since he'd been sent out from Arcadia. He was to deploy to Qarik by the 17th, or earlier — yet something about the order invoked only worry in him.

His target was Archprince Misharu, who was to command the next wave of Sanjari armored forces converging upon Qarik. With Harsu away in Etoile Marin, he was effectively in control of the country itself in his stead.

The documents spoke extensively about his conquests, his charismatic nature, and his brutality towards those who were not graced by his mercy. 6 Aenaran intelligence agents had attempted an assassination on the man a year prior due to his clandestine support of Manaean rebels. They had failed, officially reported 'missing in action'.

Looking at the official photo of Misharu, Marlow looked on with the same fascination as when he'd first seen it. Long, flowing blonde hair, not unlike Harsu, tied into an intricate braid. His left eye was obscured by an eyepatch, the left side of his face disfigured by old burn scars.

The archprince had served in every one of the Sanjari conquests since the age of fourteen, serving under Harsu's father and now Harsu himself. Marlow could only presume this long track record had built the man into a formidable warrior, unmatched by any other. The man was also an efficient sociopath, using punishments and retaliatory killings against rebellious local populations. He was also a shrewd diplomat if the situated demanded it be so, negotiating entire tribes into submission to the Sanjari emperor.

Sifting through the photographs, Marlow reminded himself of the six ill-fated Aenarans that'd attempted to kill the man previously. On one of the photos, one of them was in Sanjari uniform, standing beside Misharu.

A knock came at Marlow's door. The sound of human flesh banging against metal was not unlike the sounds of the despairing terrorists detained at the Masais Harbor blacksite, banging on the cages as he'd routinely passed them by years before. He snapped out of the brief memory, leaving his bed and making towards the door.

"Who is it?" He asked, cautiously approaching the door.

"Your ferry to Qarik is here, sir." The voice answered.

"Show me confirmation papers." He demanded. In response, a paper slid under the door, bearing just the information he required. Putting a helmet on to complete his usual tiger-stripe uniform and grabbing his kitbag, he slid the papers back through and opened the door, eyeing the man before him with distrust.

"I was given no details on your mission, sir, but we've got a UH-36 Reed^[1] on-deck requestin' you by name." The young man walked ahead of him, guiding him up through the various corridors of the Alexandria. He couldn't be any older than seventeen, and the 'NAVY' inscription on his left pocket indicated his branch.

"As it should be." Marlow replied, continuing behind the sailor.

By the time they'd reached the flight deck, the sun was rising in the east, casting orange light upon the vessel and its aircraft. Awaiting him was a single UH-36.

"Colonel Marlow! Colonel Marlow?" The pilot called out, pointing to Marlow. "You Colonel Marlow?"

"That would be correct." He showed the folder to the pilot, which had 'FOR COLONEL AUGUSTUS JAMES H.B. MARLOW — DO NOT OPEN' boldfaced upon its surface.

"Climb right on in, then, sir." The pilot gestured him onboard, the rotors of the helicopter whirring to life as Marlow climbed aboard. "Hope you don't mind music either, sir!"

With a chuckle, one of the gunners flipped a few switches connected to a series of loudspeakers mounted to the side of the helicopter.

"Go right ahead, chief." Marlow replied.

The helicopter quickly took off, leaving behind the FSS Alexandria's flight deck. The sea below, bathed in the light of the morning sun, served as a canvas to the beautiful sight before Marlow. They passed Euphemian destroyers and frigates, though one particular frigate, numbered '642' was severely damaged as they flew past it.

"What happened to that one?" Marlow called out, pointing to the damaged vessel.

"Tugs are gonna bring 'er back to Turmenista. It's the one ship the Sanjaris managed to hit hard." The gunner replied. "FSS Paul Jones. My cousin got transferred to another vessel a week before this shit went down. Crazy, huh?"

Marlow silently watched them pass other vessels of the fleet until Qarik's coastline came into view. Qarik City loomed ahead, most of the buildings damaged from the fighting of days prior. Activity had returned to the streets of the Emirate, it seemed, as he could see a few cars and people below in the streets as the helicopter passed it by.

"Fortress Qarik, baby!" The pilot exclaimed as they approached the airport. Indeed, it had been turned into an impenetrable fortress by the Euphemian airborne units housed there.

The helicopter descended upon a marked LZ on the airport's tarmac, and Marlow hopped off as the helicopter softly landed. Most of the men at the airport seemed to be celebrating the past day's victory against the Sanjaris, which had effectively forced them out of Qarik.

"Are you Colonel Augustus Marlow?" An officer asked, approaching Marlow. The nametag on his pouch read 'NAKAMORI', and his shoulder patch bore the symbol of the 23rd Airborne "Fighting Gryphons" Division, and he bore the rank of captain.

"Yes, captain." Marlow displayed the folder.

"My company's been tasked with bringing you through the Great Qarik Desert. Orders didn't say what for."

"I'll tell you when to cut me loose." Marlow nodded, following the commander until he showed him the group of light tanks awaiting deployment. The air was filled with the scent of gasoline, the engines of the machines emitting a low hum. There were 9 of them in total, occupying the airport's southern parking lot.

"You'll be riding atop one of the tanks along with some tankbusters." Nakamori pointed to one of the tanks, which had four soldiers sitting atop it. "You came at a good time. We were about to set for the Qarik desert to engage a Sanjari convoy. Surely you don't mind."

In the forty or so minutes since they'd set off, Marlow had gotten to know the four tankbusters that sat beside him atop the tank.

There was the daredevil, Nox, who'd apparently managed a real close feat a few days prior. He was also an avid poker player, who often played competitively with the other soldiers.

Then there was Sandra, Nox's second in command. She was some delinquent from Turmenista who'd quickly conformed to the reality of life in the military. Figures.

Michael was also some prettyface from Turmenista, but apparently he was a real good shot.

Lastly, there was Daniel — some spineless corporate exec turned radioman. All in all, they all seemed far too young and naive to see things for how fucked up they were.

"So, anyways, I was, ya know, shootin', and I kinda thought to myself. Remember when we used to go hunting together? Hunting deer, all that. This job's kinda like going hunting. You just sit back and shoot the deer. A real big deer, made of metal. A beast of steel." Michael chuckled. "Poetic, huh? Anyways, I'll talk to you later." He ended his recording, tucking his tape recorder into his rucksack.

Marlow had trouble getting a bit more sleep resting atop the tank. The sweltering sun was beating down from above, and the constant roaring of the engines didn't do much to help, either. Annoyed, he forced himself upright, quickly checking his kitbag for the folder.

"How old are you again?" Marlow asked, taking a sip of water from his canteen.

"Nineteen, sir." Michael replied.

"First time?" Marlow closed the canteen's lid, putting it back in his bag.

"Only been fightin' a real war for the past week or so, sir."

"I see." Marlow pulled a set of binoculars from his bag, looking at what lay ahead.

"We don't need to spot them out too often. AWACS just sees 'em and the tanks do most of the heavy duty stuff. We're just a cautionary measure." Nox watched the dunes, anti-materiel rifle in hand. Nox looked to Marlow, taking the cigarette pack from his helmet and offering it to him. "Smoke?"

"Sure thing." Setting the binoculars down, Marlow accepted the offer, taking a single cigarette. Using his lighter, he watched the sands pass them by as he used up the cigarette, exhaling puffs of smoke into the desert air.

"We've got something." Sandra's rifle was trained straight ahead, up the many dunes ahead of them.

"We've been ordered to fire," Daniel lowered his radio.

BANG

Marlow was surprised by the power of the ATR-M73, and doubly surprised she'd landed a perfect shot on the tank ahead.

The tanks advanced, firing away at the Sanjari armor off in the distance, and soon they'd passed the smoldering wreckage of their tanks.

"So how much further northeast will we be headed?" Nox looked back to Marlow, curious.

"It'll be awhile 'fore we get there." He answered.

"I was told not to question what that was." Nox continued.

"That is correct." Marlow nodded. All went quiet again, as he set his eyes on the desert sands, admiring the sight. Ruins occasionally towered from the sand, the remnants of long-lost civilization as it'd been.

The Tower

Golgotha, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

13 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

Walking through a dingy, cramped corridor between slumlike housing, Pierce led Bianka forth, gun in hand. Looming above was the Tower with No Name, tiny lights at its peak. Whoever had built it had done so professionally, or perhaps they'd simply altered part of the ancient underground shelter's sections to serve as the heart of their empire. How it came to be didn't matter, however.

"What are you going to do when you get there?" Bianka asked, following close behind.

"I think you already know." Pierce holstered his weapon in his coat pocket, then continued down the tight corridor until they were faced with the 'main street' of Golgotha, the steps to the tower's entrance at its end. Scrap metal statues of great men clutching the world upon their shoulders served as twisted ornaments to the structure before them.

"Nice one. Right off the auction, I take it?" One of the men on the street looked to Pierce, then to Bianka. "How much?"

"Go fuck yourself." Pierce replied.

The man snarled, and reached for something in his pocket — but upon seeing the glimmer of Pierce's Executor holstered in his coat, backed away and fled. Under his breath, he angrily muttered. "Whatever."

The two were soon walking through the street's crowds, passing street vendors selling everything from food to firearms. Nearby was an auction stand, which was at present being used for human trafficking.

Guarding the doors were private security contractors, their faces obscured by balaclavas that made them seem less than human, like faceless armed drones on the orders of their suit-wearing masters in the tower. There were three of them guarding the front entrance, their assault rifles in hand.

Ascending the steps, Pierce didn't speak. In a moment, he'd drawn his Executor .50. "Federal States Marshal Service. You are all under the arrest."

"You have no authority here, fed—" One of the guard's replies was cut short as his face was reduced to a mess of caved-in flesh by the marshal's gun. His two comrades quickly turned, but were gunned down almost instantaneously before they could even react. With their bodies laying limp on the steps of the Tower's entrance, Pierce walked past the corpses and kicked open one of the glass doors leading into the lobby, bringing it to shatter. Wide-eyed looks and terrified glances came Pierce's way — upper-class denizens of Golgotha were looking on in terror, shaking at the sight of the man.

"Federal States Marshal Service! Your constitutional rights have been suspended for the duration of this operation."

Desert Ghosts

Great Qarik Desert

14 January, A.C. 391

Col. Augustus James H.B. Marlow
5th Special Operations Element
1st AB Order Division "Nightstalkers"
Presidential Order of Patriotism, Action Branch

Amidst the dunes of the Great Qarik Desert, the armored group dragged forward, the sweltering sun now directly above them. Marlow had already had 'lunch' — he'd cooked his beef ration over the portable grill the tankbusters had set atop the turret, eaten it, and told himself it'd suffice.

"You see somethin'?" Michael set aside his beef jerky ration, quickly picking up and aiming forward with his rifle, looking on at a light plume of smoke. The tank climbed the dune, soon descending to reveal a great plateau of desert ahead of them. The plateau almost stretched into the horizon, save for a few sporadic clusters of dunes at the edge of their vision. Just past the dunes in the distance, a sandstorm was looming off in the distance — by the looks of it, it was southbound.

The plateau had perhaps been an oasis in long-lost times. The small remains of concrete ruins at the edge of the plateau indicated some urban development once rested at the end of the plateau. More notably, there was, situated at the center of the vast space, the wreckage of three helicopters, unmistakeably UH-36s.

As they approached, it became apparent the derelict helicopters bore Qariki markings. They were still smoldering, assumedly their fate had been a recent one.

"Couldn't have been long." Nox noted. The bodies of Qariki soldiers littered the sand surrounding the crash site, their corpses splayed head-first in the sand, as if they'd been running from something. The bullet wounds on their back, of course, served only to affirm this.

"You see the symptom, I see the cause." With his rifle, Marlow gestured to the tracks in the sand.

"Huh, looks like the Qarikis were up to somethin' this far out." Sandra looked ahead, binoculars in hand. "Prolly were out conducting special operations." She briefly shot a glance at Marlow.

"Aerial reconnaissance reports a group of thermal signals at the plateau's edge!" Daniel called out, standing atop the tank's turret.

BOOM

The tank adjacent to them, carrying the 2nd Section, was instantly torn to shreds in a fireball that enveloped the front of the vehicle, bringing what remained of the ravaged machine to a halt.

"Shit!" Daniel exclaimed, hurrying to the hatch — as if to jump inside for cover. Suddenly he was sent flying backwards, and it quickly became apparent why. A .50 had gone through his chest, destroying his radio pack and pushing him off the turret.

In the chaos, Marlow had little clue of who'd said it first.

"ATGMs!"

In that moment, he'd leapt off the vehicle, hurrying over to the downed radioman. The rest of Nox's squad had come over, and it was apparent desperation had set in among them. Marlow remained coldly calm — after all, he'd seen far worse in his days.

"Medic!" Nox shouted, looking around them.

"Corporal Langley was with the 2nd section, sir. He was our group's medic." Sandra replied. Her voice quivered as she spoke — the first time Marlow had witnessed genuine fear in the group.

Marlow approached the body, looking at the terrible sight. His ribcage had been shredded open by the shot, pieces of the lungs, intestines and stomach reduced to some disfigured mish-mash of flesh.

"SHIT!" Michael knelt down, removing his uniform in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"It'll get you nowhere." Marlow leaned beside him, hands resting on Daniel's neck. "He's gone."

"This can't be fuckin' happenin', man..." Michael's eyes welled up, but the explosion of the tank they'd been on moments before had startled him back to attention.

"We gotta get to fuckin' cover!" Nox yelled, hurrying off towards one of the burning tanks.

The seven remaining tanks had been reduced to two in quick succession, and soon Nox's platoon — the 1st and 3rd sections had barely managed to regroup — had found itself seeking cover among the wreckage of the armored vehicles.

From his cover, Marlow watched the two remaining tanks pull away from the chaos, launching countermeasures to avoid the missiles being launched at them from around the desert. Soon enough, they retreated up the dune from where they'd come, descending it again as they fled the scene.

They'd been abandoned.

The roar of jet engines soon followed the hasty retreat, coupled with an explosion rising from the dunes.

"We're out here, in the middle of the fuckin' desert, with only the water canteens and rations in our bags." One of the men from the 3rd section, a certain corporal Jensen, complained.

"Bitching about it won't fucking help, either!" Sandra quipped, clearly irritated.

"Hey, now! Calm the hell down!" Nox shouted, pointing to the two. "If we're to have any chance, we're going to need to have some goddamn cohesion! Now, if we're lucky, we'll take shelter behind one of the dunes, and we'll call for exfil—"

The winds picked up, bringing everyone to instinctively turn around. The wall of dust came swiftly, putting them at the epicenter of the sandstorm. The sun, piercing through the storm, cast otherworldly hues of red and orange around them.

Hurriedly, Marlow ducked and shut his eyes, sheltering himself from the howling winds as he put a pair of goggles on.

"Colonel, sir!" Nox called out, kneeling down. "My men are going south again."

"That's alright," Marlow replied, still sitting behind one of the destroyed tanks. "I'll continue on my way."

"I assume it to be part of your mission." Nox replied.

"Indeed it is, lieutenant." Nodding, Marlow rose back to his feet, checking his AR-M64A6 assault rifle before beginning his trek forward through the plateau.

Ascension

The Tower

14 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

DING

The elevator doors slid open, Pierce and Bianka walking forth into the executive suite. A man awaited at his desk, his two guards being dispatched by the classic method of a bullet to the head.

Startled, he raised his hands, as if to indicate he were unarmed. "So you've come!" He explained. The office space was rather ornate, with an ancient sword, which by its design seemed to hail from ancient Ezo, was on display just behind the man.

"Doctor Hadrian Trent, was it?" Pierce asked, still aiming the gun to the man's head.

"You must be the federal marshal... I'm impressed, however, that you brought that girl here with you."

"Tell me about Erika MacReady. Start talking or I put a fifty caliber round through that middle-aged face of yours. Your wife and children probably won't like to hear about that — if they even find your body."

"You must've looked into who I am." Hadrian chuckled. "I suppose you'll find little surprise as to where you really are, when you finish me off and continue taking that elevator up." Noticing Pierce's fingers subtly draw nearer to the trigger, he continued. "I'm sure you're aware of who her brother is."

"Of course." Pierce nodded.

"Augusta Petroleum is a threat to more than just the interests of the Lexicon Corporation," Hadrian explained. "We are a group of people... more powerful than you could ever comprehend."

"Erika knew about the Monad Group. That why you kill her?" He added.

"Of course. Her and the girl you brought with you. Monad was a... front... however. The tip of the iceberg, you could say. There is so much that you won't understand." Hadrian broke out into laughter. "The girl. Bianka Ziekowski, she's much more important than you think she is. She could change the future of Tangaliro's politics forever... know that well. It's why the price on her head was so high, after all. The fact is, the others, those superior to me — probably knew I was compromised the moment you two began shooting in the building. As good as dead. If you don't put a bullet in my head, I will."

"Before you do that, I simply need your cooperation." Pierce replied.

"Very well." Hadrian smirked. "Erika was killed in this very suite. In the storage room, to be precise. To your left," He gestured to a rather unassuming metal door. "You two are going to die if you go deeper into this. The vision of Golgotha is dead. Once you make it to the ground floor, Golgotha will go up in smoke, starting with the tower." Hadrian set a folder on his desk, passing it across the table to Pierce. As Pierce lowered his guard to take the folder, Hadrian suddenly pushed his office chair back, grabbing the sword off its rack and yelling as he charged Pierce.

To the doctor's confusion, Pierce had managed to avoid the attack almost instantly, disarming him. Hadrian let out an agonized yelp as his blade was driven through his abdomen, Bianka and Pierce then proceeding to riddle him with bullets. Staggering back, he mouthed something, then collapsed backwords, the glass shattering as a final .50 tore his throat open. As the glass shattered, he fell down to yellow lights of Golgotha, already dead from the shots.

"What happens now?" Bianka asked.

"It seems things won't return to normal for you. Someone's out for your blood." Checking through the folder, Pierce read through a series of documents — a single name he found repeated frequently: Victor Goettzcheld. "I've got a name. Let's get out of here."

Young Evil God of Death

Great Qarik Desert

14 January, A.C. 391

Col. Augustus James H.B. Marlow
5th Special Operations Element
1st AB Order Division "Nightstalkers"
Presidential Order of Patriotism, Action Branch

Through the storm, Marlow had pressed forward, only stopping after he'd witnessed the lights of his objective: it was unmistakeably the base he had been after. By the time the sandstorm had passed, he already lie in wait in the vicinity of the complex. It wasn't a complex so much as it was a pit in the ground surrounded by prefab military structures, guard towers busily manned by Sanjari troops. But the question remained — what lay below, and where was the Sanjari Archprince in it all?

The sun was setting now, slivers of orange and pink light hugging the horizon. It was the ideal time to move.

Marlow treaded cautiously as he descended the dune, remaining in the safe concealment of the dark as he reached the perimeter fence, which was of chain-link metal draped in plastic tarp. Removing a device from his bag, he set it down in the sand, setting a claymore mine beside it and covering it with his own helmet. It would send a signal that would confirm he'd reached the site, and the claymore would detonate if any Sanjari guards interfered with the device. Opening his bag, he quickly switched into a Sanjari uniform that'd been prepared for the operation, and dumped the bag adjacent to the helmet in the sand, waiting for his return. Of course, he made sure to take the mission dossier and conceal it into the concealed internal pockets of his uniform, as to avoid the possibility of it being found on the bag. Cautious, however, he slid a single grenade into one of the uniform's hidden pockets, just in case.

He discarded his assault rifle in the bag — they were Euphemian, and would serve only to expose him. The pistol, on the other hand, he concealed in his uniform — it would serve a purpose later on. Listening in on the other side, he heard no movement nearby. Carefully and quietly, he scaled the fence, hopping on to the other side. All was dimly lit around him, the lights seemingly concentrated at the central section of the base. He was in an open 'corridor' of sorts, between the wall and the military housing.

Two sets of footsteps ahead of him brought him to attention, bringing him to take cover behind a series of crates. Marlow drew his knife, waiting intently on the approach. The two men passed him by, seemingly oblivious to his presence in the dark. They were preoccupied, it seemed — preoccupied talking.

He sheathed his knife, drawing his pistol again — just in case he had a run in with any Sanjaris. As he navigated through the camp, mostly comprising portable military housing, it seemed as though there would be no chance of running into Misharu — at least, not on the surface.

As he made his way down the earthly ramps leading down the excavation site, he came across the ancient, corroded blast door that'd once perhaps served as access for helicopters to the base that'd once been. An elevator had been installed nearby to ferry troops into the facility, which he saw in operation as a group of four armed soldiers came up the elevator. Their CO greeted him in Sanjari, and he returned the greeting — he'd been given a basic course on the Sanjari language, and had learned to speak a series of basic phrases without a particularly notable accent.

They walked past him, and stopped before the ramps as a truck descended. Ushered out of the vehicle were six apparent prisoners of war, still in Euphemian uniform. Not wishing to draw attention to himself, Marlow went forth and entered the elevator, heading down. As it went down, he was suddenly struck with awe as he witnessed the sheer scale of the facility. In the space of the entrance chamber alone, metal containers were neatly organized, masked workers analyzing ancient machines of war and walking about the space.

Feeling the left pocket of his Sanjari uniform, Marlow felt a lighter and pack of cigarettes. For the first time in awhile, he grinned.

An escape tunnel leads outward from Misharu's chamber. Travels to the southwest. The end line of the escape tunnel isn't known, but it's still known to be functional.

The elevator reached the ground level, and Marlow stepped off, adjusting his cap to look unassuming and making for a door labeled 'K8'.

He navigated the corridors, remembering them as they'd been on the map presented in the files to him. Unlike the rather unfortunate exterior, the interior of the facility seemed to be in impeccable condition, perhaps partly due to the Sanjaris restoring the facility to its former glory. Making a left at the hallway's end, Marlow found an ancient inscription upon the wall as the corridor made a right.

It was a seal, although long-worn out. A figure stood in the center of the seal's circular design, not unlike a woman, clutching a sword in one hand and a ballistic missile in another. Flanking her left side was a scale — perhaps the ancients intended it as some vague indication of 'justice' — and at her right side a communications tower.

It was at that moment that Marlow realized the text on the seal was Old Euphemian.

'STRATEGIC FORCES COMMAND — CLARKE MISSILE BASE'
NAGA, REPUBLIC OF URIA

Marlow had never heard of a 'Republic of Uria' before, nor a province or city named 'Naga'. Perhaps it'd all been lost to the sands of time? He heard a group of footsteps behind him, and so he continued moving.

When it occurred to him that they were still behind him, he grew nervous. He stopped, smoking a cigarette to look unassuming as the group passed by — that was when it occurred to him. The four men escorting the six POWs were the men he'd seen earlier as he'd entered the facility, and now that he stood up close to the Euphemian POWs, he realized that it'd been the ones he'd been serving alongside on the journey through the desert. Of the eight that'd once been, there were now six — perhaps two had escaped or died. They'd been changed out of their uniforms into clothing most regal in nature, perhaps due to the honor that came with standing before the Archprince.

"Sadat!" One of the Sanjaris stopped before him, saluting.

"What is it?" Marlow replied in Sanjari.

"You are one of the Archprince's guards, yes? I recognize that uniform. Notify them we have captured six Euphemian soldiers. Two could not be acquired, for they had been killed." The soldier replied.

"Ah, I see." Marlow nodded. "I shall request the door be opened."

Guiding them to Misharu's chambers, Marlow gestured them to stop while he approached the door. He exchanged a subtle glance at Nox, a subtle nod between the two men affirming everything. Knocking gently, he waited for the speakeasy slit in the door to open. Sure enough, it did, and he was face to face with a royal servant. "What is it?"

"The ones the Archprince requested have arrived." Marlow responded.

"Understood." The man responded. The door opened, revealing the mind-numbingly ornate space that was Misharu's chambers. Technology from the old world was juxtaposed with golden statues and beautiful frescoes of pre-war civilization. Marlow concealed his awe at the sight as he gestured the POWs be brought in.

"You may go now," The most intricate feature of the chamber was, of course, Archprince Misharu himself. Sitting upon a golden throne, beset at all side by grand frescoes of deities fighting atop the smoldering ruins of cities, and flanked at both sides by six guards in total. The guards were equipped with electrical rods, perhaps to incapacitate the Archprince's enemies. Misharu gestured the four men out with a gloved hand.

The regular chaff seemed to almost tremble at the sight of the man, and Marlow almost understood why. To these men, he was not unlike a God, choosing who lives and dies by the mere inclination of an order. A young, evil god of death.

"Thank you, guard. What is your name?" Misharu spoke softly, yet it was as though his voice could be heard across the room.

"Enmerkar, your majesty." Marlow bowed.

"You have my congratulations. I have never seen Euphemians of such fine stock. Even the most well-trained Qarikis aren't this formidable. They would make a fine addition to my Legion. Servant," He gestured to the man, who seemed zealously compelled as soon as the Archprince spoke to him. "Leave us be."

The servant departed, leaving only Marlow, the six guards, the six prisoners, and Misharu himself. With the snap of a finger, the Archprince brought the six guards before him, facing Marlow.

Perhaps this is where I die. Marlow thought. As he looked at the faces of the six guards, a chill ran down his spine. They were the Aenarans he'd seen on the file who'd been sent to kill Misharu — and somehow he had turned them into his most loyal, trusted guards. How does he do it?...

"I take it you were sent from Arslan. We had been expecting the arrival of more royal guards to the cadre for awhile now. I am delightfully admired by your diligence. For your assistance in bringing the prisoners before me, I shall reward you with a chance to see firsthand my Mercy.

"Thank you, sir." Marlow bowed again.

"Rise," Misharu gestured Marlow back up. Marlow took position, standing beside the event that was about to take place. He stood at the ready, his discipline from the Order serving him well in appearing composed before the Sanjari Archprince.

The Archprince then turned his attention to the prisoners. Speaking in near-perfect Euphemian, Misharu began. "What might six soldiers like you be doing so far away from your 'colony', Qarik? Surely they sent you to kill me, just like the others."

"Our unit got wiped out. We were trying to trek back to Qarik..." Sandra weakly replied.

"You didn't answer the question." Misharu spoke with a venom in his voice, snapping his fingers. In response, two of the guards came forward, bringing Sandra before the Archprince.

"We were... trying to conduct a cross-border raid." Sandra responded. "There isn't a point in interrogating us. We're just soldiers. You killed our superiors in the ambush."

"I do not intend to get much information beyond introductions." Misharu replied. "I do not intend to harm any of you. Rather, you will experience unbridled joy and pleasure, and you will see the Truth from my eyes. You will beg to join my Legion, and I would accept, for you have proven your worth in combat."

"Like hell we would!" Sandra attempted to get free of her restraints, with no luck.

"Don't you lay a fucking finger on her!" Another prisoner threatened. Marlow subtly shifted his gaze to see it was Nox who had spoken up.

"He must be your leader. A leader inspires loyalty and sacrifice. A true leader inspires loyalty through sacrifice. If you are willing to speak up for her, then you must be willing to take her place."

Take her place as what? Marlow thought.

With the snap of his fingers, Misharu called his guards to bring Nox before the Archprince. The guards placed a headset upon his head, to which Misharu also put on a headset. Marlow looked on, wondering what form of pre-war technology it might be. He could kill the man and his guards right now, but he figured seeing the technology in action first would benefit the Fatherland much more.

"You son of a bitch!" Nox suddenly charged forth at the Archprince, to which he suddenly recoiled back screaming, bringing his bound hands to his head.

Is it some kind of psychological weapon? Marlow thought, watching as Nox was then beaten by Misharu's guards. An ample distraction, he supposed.

"I suppose it could not have gone peacefully. I must be dealing with third-rate chaff, after all." Misharu arrogantly leaned back in his throne, watching the scene unfold.

The beating continued until Nox lay on the floor, bruised and bloodied. A few sporadic spasms indicated he had survived the ordeal, with a few agonized groans further affirming that.

Gently, the headset was removed from his head, and set aside.

"Now you have witnessed the Truth. Bow to me, for I am your lord." Misharu drew a sabre from its sheath, pointing it downward. It was not unlike the old 'knightings' of legend that Marlow had heard of.

Struggling back up, Nox staggered forward.

An interesting strategy. Break the unit's leader first, and everyone's morale will soon follow. Marlow thought to himself, watching the scene.

Nox fell to his knees again, bowing his head before the sword. A gasp followed among the prisoners. What pre-war technology was this, that could so effectively brainwash a man?

"We're screwed!" Michael shouted from across the room. "We're fuckin' screwed!"

"Sir!" Sandra tried, in vain, to get to her superior — something her restraints would not permit.

Chuckling, Nox grinned. "Don't worry... I've got one card left." Suddenly, he lunged forth, impaling himself upon Misharu's sabre, which brought gasps and screams from the prisoners.

The commotion had shocked even the Sanjari Archprince, and Marlow knew now that this was his opportunity. Reaching into his uniform, he pulled the pin on the grenade he'd brought, lobbing it at the throne and drawing his pistol.

BOOM

The grenade had struck — and detonated — upon Misharu's chest, creating a rather unsightly mess. With six shots in quick succession, Marlow disposed of the Aenaran guards, hurrying to the prisoners to cut them loose.

"It's you..." Michael muttered, confused.

"What are your names?" Marlow pointed to the three soldiers from the 3rd section.

"Private Crassus J. Smith, sir."

"Corporal Jack Harvey, sir."

"Corporal Matthew Jensen, sir."

"I'm going to get us out of here." Marlow declared, approaching the throne again. Pressing a certain button on the armrest, Marlow watched as the throne moved aside with a hydraulic hum, revealing a tunnel and a pod that seemed it could house everyone inside.

Alarms suddenly blared, and the voice's announcement in Old Euphemian was very clear to Marlow — as Misharu's vital signs had ceased, a countdown for the warheads stationed inside the base had begun.

Everyone had clustered themselves into the pod, Marlow joining them last. Flipping a series of switches around the cramped space, Marlow felt a sudden jolt as the pod launched, loudly screeching as it sped down the rail line in the tunnel.

In a matter of minutes, they'd been catapulted out of the ground, presumably far from the site of the base itself. The pod crash-landed into a dune, rolling over until it finally came to a stop, the door automatically opening.

Marlow could hear the sound of a helicopter's rotors as he staggered out of the pod, the other prisoners soon following suit.

"I must say, I'm not surprised you managed to pull it off, Colonel." Major John F. Albers stood before Marlow, kneeling down. He looked to the prisoners, who were still dazed from what'd transpired. "POWs?"

"Yes, sir." Marlow nodded, struggling up to his feet. The ground shook as a distant explosion could be heard in the distance — presumably the ancient base had been destroyed. "Their CO sacrificed himself, facilitating my kill on the Archprince. They deserve a break."

"They're with 4th "Black Cat" Company, 3B-308DAR... was it?" Albers asked.

"Yes, sir." Marlow nodded. "Tankbusters, I think."

"They've been through hell, I see," Albers replied, looking to the five survivors weakly crawling out of the pod. "They deserve rest. I'll draft a voucher." Stepping back, the officer gestured the other soldiers of the Order to attend to the POWs. "Get them onboard!"

As the prisoners were loaded onto the UH-36, Albers looked back to Marlow. "What you did back there, killin' the Archprince of Sanjar... is gonna cause the biggest fuckin' succession crisis you've ever seen. With the Sanjari Emperor on vacation in Etoile Marin, there'll be a shitshow among the royals here like you wouldn't believe. Good job." The Major chuckled, climbing aboard the helicopter with Marlow. "The Presidential Order's activities in Sanjar are about to dramatically increase. You'll see yourself quite busy for the comin' weeks."

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 3:02 pm

The Two Sovereigns

Etoile Marin

15 January, A.C. 391

Depeche Strangelove Touchfaith Z. Stardust III
President of the Federal States of Euphemie
Commander-in-Chief of the Federal Armed Forces
Heir to the Euphemianist Pantheon

President Stardust still had plenty of time until the beginning of the conference in Etoile Marin, and he resolved he would meet not his allies or rivals before the conference began, rather he would meet his enemy — Harsu I iv Sanjar.

Le Palais-Royal de Tristelunaire hosted the diplomats and visitors from around the globe, and amid the ballroom dances and court intrigue the President would find the Sanjari monarch. Beside President Stardust were his two right-hand men, VPOTFS Joy Division Tearing-up-my-Heart M. Neworder and SECDEF Daniel Justanother Day Three-in-the-Morning E. Boingo.

"This is the..." The Vice President muttered a word that would've made the media reel. "...est god damn shit I've ever seen," He looked with disdain to the ball taking place. It was easy to spot the Sanjari Emperor among the crowd, flanked at all sides by curious aristocracy and nobility — presumably from all ends of the globe.

"There he is." President Stardust noted, approaching Harsu. Beside Harsu was the Sanjari Minister of State (and his cousin), Astoreth, and the Sanjari Minister of Defense, Karduk.

The Sanjari had noticed them quickly enough. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen." Harsu flamboyantly announced, breaking from the crowd to meet the three gentlemen. "What is this, exactly?" He asked Stardust, confused — or perhaps surprised his own enemy would choose to meet with him.

"A meeting. Bring your two ministers. Guest room." Stardust replied. As they set off for the guest room, a guard attempted to stop Harsu.

"Sir, you're not permitted in the guest room. Not unless—"

"Oh, he is." Stardust responded. The guard reacted immediately with a nod, and soon they were in the room's confines.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, it was your decision to declare war upon Sanjar." Astoreth seated herself at the table, looking coldly to President Stardust.

"Calm down." Harsu gestured to his cousin, then looked to Stardust. "Surely you intend to speak about something."

"Yes. Not as enemies, but as sovereigns. In your eyes, this invasion of Qarik is completely justified. In mine, it violates their sovereignty and it is the Euphemian responsibility to protect the sovereignty of free nations. I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to warn you of the situation in your own country, and the allies you choose to associate with."

"Oh?" Harsu almost chuckled, leaning back cynically. "Go on, and tell me something I do not know."

"How much faith do you put in Tangaliro?" Stardust asked.

A curious expression appeared on Harsu's face. His two cousins beside him exchanged confused looks, with a slight hint of disdain about their faces. "Of course. Unlike Euphemie and its subordinate states, Tangaliro is a valuable ally, who treats their partners equally."

"Why, then, is news going around that one of your most elite units is effectively holding the Tangaliroan embassy hostage on the allegations that they detained your fourth cousin, Princess Apuulluunideeszu?"

"I was notified of no such thing." Harsu laughed. With a gloved hand, he gestured Karduk to make a phonecall.

With an obedient nod, Karduk made the call, speaking a few brief words with the man on the other end. "The Euphemian President is correct, your Highness."

"I can only imagine why you were not notified of this occurrence." Stardust continued. "I do not work towards your overthrow, or even the occupation of Sanjar. We fight merely to preserve the sovereignty and independence of our ally, Qarik. So know well when I speak, that I mean no harm to you or your nation. A fragmented Sanjar wouldn't be beneficial for either of us — but that's just what may happen if you continue to allow your own officials to go unchecked. Know too that the Tangaliroans may be working towards your demise. They don't sell your military weapons out of goodwill — they sell them to see how well they'll perform against Euphemian weapons. Sanjar, at present, is a proxy in Tangaliro's geopolitical game."

"Mr. President, I've, uh," SECDEF Boingo spoke, a sarcastic venom to his tone. "Just received word that Sanjari Archprince Misharu is dead. Now, that'd cause quite the... disruption... within the Sanjari royal family, would it not? It's a rather contested title, from what I've heard."

"Yes, indeed, quite a contested title. That would cause some problems, wouldn't it, uh," President Stardust looked to Harsu. "your Highness? Now, if things get outta control, I wouldn't be surprised if Tangaliroan troops were the first ones to show up in Arslan." Checking his watch, the Euphemian president got up. "Well, we oughta be on our way. You watch yourself, Harsu."

The look on Harsu's face absolutely delighted the President. Unbridled, impotent rage, a cold stare that indicated nothing but the most pure hatred, written all over his glare. As the three Euphemians left the room, Stardust slyly smirked. "He came here to derail the conference with his presence, didn't he?" He chuckled. "Nice try."

A Peculiar Visit

Aérodrome d'Intercontinental Seléne-Evielia, Nouvelles Cannes, Etoile Marin

15 January, A.C. 391

The Aedifex

So this is the paradise Nicanor has been spending his days in.

The Aedifex exited the Lorenz™^[2] Lo-141^[3], walking through the jetbridge until he'd found himself at the gate. Thankfully, he wouldn't need to go through customs, as he'd flown in from Euphemie. The grand glass windows of the terminal revealed the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, which were oddly warm this time of year, at least in the vicinity of Marinesia and Turmenista. Contrasting the waters were the mountains in the distance, along with sporadic clusters of villas along the coastline. It was truly a tourist's paradise.

He didn't bring any luggages with him, save for a briefcase, which he'd stocked with a few necessary items. Carrying it in his right hand, he continued through the airport until he was at the entrance.

He'd come to fulfill various errands — by Fate's weaving hand, all was transpiring on this island. He'd brought findings from one of his own, the Gatekeeper, that would shake up the hierarchy of the Archons immensely.

He wasn't too troubled by the fact the Sanjaris had failed to destroy a certain piece of pre-war technology a few days prior, as the natural cycle of coincidence and paradox would probably have it that those responsible for defying his vision of Fate face consequences somehow. Was the one who'd pulled it off dead? Who knew. Perhaps the old prototype tank was supposed to fall into Euphemian hands, after all. Fate had strange ways of making things go forward.

That wasn't too important, not anymore, at least.

Booking a taxi was easy enough, and as he set for Nouvelles Lunes, he made a phonecall.

"Nicanor. It's been awhile."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - UH-36 Reed - The UH-36 Reed is a military utility helicopter developed by Lariat Aviation Technologies, Ltd. It was developed in 352 A.C. to fulfill the Euphemian Army's demand for a multirole helicopter to succeed the aging fleet of UH-33 Dandy helicopters.

2 - Lorenz™ - Lorenz Aerospace is a Euphemian manufacturer founded in A.C. 114. Since then, it has grown to be one of the largest civilian aircraft manufacturers in Euphemie. Its founders were immigrants from a certain country that is now part of Tangaliro.

3 - Lo-141 - The Lorenz Lo-141 is a Euphemian wide-body commercial jet airliner and cargo aircraft, and one of the most common symbols of the modern 'jet era'. Carrying 450 passengers, it is also the largest passenger aircraft in the world by size and capacity.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 10:59 pm

Ileiad, Republic of Manae
Acasian Consulate
Iulien Celibidacu
1/15/391 A.C.

The atmosphere of the consulate’s conference room was like that you would’ve expected of the headquarters of the prosperous corporation of twenty years ago, with it’s vaguely modernist architecture and furnishings. The room was fairly simple - a decently large desk, an adequate amount of chairs and a coffee machine, though with some aspects specific to that of a diplomatic facility in a warzone: namely, soundproofing. A certain Gulkasar had come to continue his meeting sessions with Acasia’s certain espionage-related people, one of them being Iulien in particular. They had been discussing the possibility of Acasia putting support behind the Sanjari exile movement of Harsu I’s sister, now in Etoile Marin. However, the exile movement itself was based in Manae, eagerly awaiting the day that they could re-enter their homeland.

“So,” Iulien took a sip of his espresso. “You wanted to know about military support…? Or was it intervention? I forgot. Something involving our military.”

"The Sanjari nation under the Harsu regime currently find themselves in a precarious situation. Perhaps Harsu had thought Tangaliro would support their wanton aggression in Qarik. As well-intentioned the regime's media makes the leader out to be, he has engaged in ruthless campaigns against dissidents within the Sanjari Empire. In the past year, our organization, the Exiles, has worked to bring about a military coup within the Empire that would bring the rightful heir to the crown, Anya, to power." Gulkasar was effectively the leader of the Exiles, with Anya in Etoile Marin. His slick, black hair and dark skin served as the mask for a man of sharp wit and refined ego. "At present, Tangaliro is a threat. Both to the 'Organization' and your nation, Acasia. Make no mistake, they compete against your people in Vajraya. Harsu is, at best, complacent to Tangaliro, and at worst, a complete and utter puppet for their policies abroad... not the best outcome for either of us." Gulkasar paused, as if to think. "Military support would prove a vital turning point in this succession matter... and it would stem either Tangaliro or Euphemie from gaining absolute influence in the region."

“Harsu is, at best, in for one hell of a time now that Euphemie just wiped a good chunk of his navy off the face of the earth. Tangaliro isn’t the problem, Euphemie is. They can try and compete in Vajraya all they want, we have the upper hand in the Empire. Now that he, Harsu that is, has gone and attacked Qarik and brought Euphemie into the war, I think he’s going to realize soon he can’t go up against a superior nation using the tactics that worked on his neighbors.” Iulien commented.

"Tangaliro isn't the problem." Gulkasar chuckled. "Not yet. At present, they're merely an obstruction. Their support of Harsu will only lead the Empire of Sanjar spiralling towards its destruction, as the maniacal tyrant Harsu leads the nation towards war against Euphemie. To the Tangaliroans, this is merely a test of their technology in the hands of a proxy nation. Dealing with the Tangaliroans isn't as mutually beneficial as one might be led to believe. After all, what is the NCA, besides a group of human shields for the Tangaliroans themselves? Sanjar is being used by Tangaliro — acknowledging and cutting off their ability to further this act is a good start. I ask you in your support not to wage war and destroy a nation, but to bring about a national rebirth — to create a free, independent Sanjar that will not play into either Euphemie or Tangaliro's foreign policy agendas. You may not yet believe Tangaliro is a threat to your nation — but be honest to yourself, Acasia serves only as a playing card in their geopolitical Poker. A free, independent Empire of Sanjar, together with Acasia, can create a bloc free of the NCA or the SSL's exploitation. With Acasia's military might and Sanjar's vast resources, our two nations could truly change history."

“So you want to start weakening Harsu by somehow convincing Tangaliro to stop supporting him? I’m no diplomat but I’m trying to think of what we, Acasia could do on that front. Maybe we could do something like send the Union State a message asking that they stop supplying military equipment to Sanjar? Maybe combine that with a condemnation of Harsu for his unprovoked attacks.” Iulien wondered.

"As of 2100 hours last night, one of our associates in the Sanjari government sent the false tip that Princess Apuulluunideeszu, fourth cousin of Emperor Harsu, was being detained in the Tangaliroan embassy. In reality, she was captured by our forces and will soon be relocated to Manae. Since then, the Sanjari military has been putting pressure on the Tangaliroan embassy — this will blossom into a diplomatic crisis soon enough." Gulkasar explained. "Of course, we can't pull off too many feats, or there'll be... undesired suspicion. This embassy crisis involves one of Harsu's most loyal units, the Edin Guards, so I'm certain little suspicion will arise of this. They're operating on orders from the Sanjari government, after all. We use motorcycle couriers to get our messages through, so there'll be no way it will return to us."

“One step ahead — I like it. So with Harsu likely to turn against Tangaliro soon, would our intervention follow next?”

"You will know when to begin the process when the Western Fleet mutinies. There's a reason their admiral refuses to return to port — besides the fact the fleet would be destroyed by Euphemian naval aviation. He knows that he will lose his job, perhaps even face execution, for his incompetence, dishonor and cowardice in the Battle of Levan Reef. We intend to utilize his tough situation to turn him against the Harsu regime. That will be the beginning of our call to arms — what will follow from there is a coup d'etat upon the Imperial Palace. Whether it succeeds or not, that does not matter." Gulkasar grinned. "...for it will bring Sanjari military operations in the west to a halt, and if things are bad enough, forces will be refocused on the capital region. From there, we need simply organize the tribes that have suffered the most under Harsu's reign to rise up."

“So we would simply be assisting a civil war of sorts that would have already begun. I think this would ease the fears of a lot of our military officials — which makes the likelihood of your cause receiving military support greater.”

"A civil war implies it would last years. When our plan comes into fruition, it may only take weeks until Harsu is deposed." Gulkasar replied. Questions like 'What about the tribes loyal to Harsu?' were ones that needed no answering — as it was fairly obvious what sort of tactics a man like Gulkasar would employ. This was only affirmed when Gulkasar added, "A plan like this has been under development since the reign of Emperor Samani IV — I'd been drafting it under his rule, in case he were deposed. Perhaps he knew Harsu was going to overthrow him eventually, or perhaps the man died as he'd lived: a paranoid, tyrannical son of a bitch. Like father, like son, one could suppose.

“I disagree with your notion that a civil war needs to last for years, but regardless. Acasia’s Northern Strike Group will soon be massing at the dockyards in Ustya, the force will include, from what I’ve been told about five cruisers and three destroyers. Once it assembles, it will leave port for Eastern Sanjar when your plan goes into effect. We believe it should deal with any Sanjari naval assets on their eastern seaboard and from there can provide missile support as needed. Plus, a show of force to dissuade Tangaliro from perhaps assisting Harsu.”

Gulkasar gave a sly grin. "Splendid, then. The Western Fleet's mutiny shall be the greenlight for the beginning of a New Era."

by **Tangaliro** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 11:50 pm

The Arrival

Seléne-Evielia Intercontinental Aerodrome, Nouvelles Canes, Etoile Marin

14 January, A.C. 391

Grand Union Protector Generalissimo Shen Xuewen of All Under Heaven
Union Council
Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

"The Union Protector is the title of the internally-elected head of state of Tangaliro under the current system of the Union Council government. The position was initially set up by the founding fathers of the Union to serve as the leader, representative and protector of the newborn Union and its people, eventually extended to the entirety of human civilization. The first known Union Protector was ex-Solaran Caesar Julius II of the Solarus, elected by the founding fathers to be their collective representative during the foundation of the Union Council. Since then, every 5 years, the Union Council would host an internal election to elect a new Union Protector as their representative. Under the Union Constitution, there is no term limits for the position of Union Protector. However, reelection of Union Protectors who are aged above 80, unpopular among the population, ridden with controversies or major health problems were generally avoided under internal conventions.

The Union Protector is granted the power of commanding the Union's military and representing the country in diplomatic occasions. In return, the Union Protector must answer to the Union Council, and, if under circumstances where the Union Council views necessary, would be ousted from power by the Council.

Following the December Protest four years ago, the Union Council has been expanded into holding 25 extra seats of Elected Advisory Council. The elected councilmen, however, are not permitted to participate the internal election for Union Protectors. Participation in the Union Protector election has become a privilege that the democratic oppositions of Tangaliro are fighting for since then.

Under the framework of the Great Compromise resulted from the December Protest, the Union Protector's role as the head of state has been de jure transited the universally elected Union President. However, the Union Protector remains as the de facto head of state of the Union in most occasions, while the Union President instead serves as an elected coordinator, advisor and figurehead representative for them.

While being the center of political struggles between the traditional and democratic elements within the Union, the Union Protector is still generally respected as the head of state within the Union."

—WorldWideWiki, Union Protector

As the 21st Union Protector of Tangaliro since its foundation, Shen had not been sleeping well lately. Since the December Protest four years ago, the Union has been ridden with internal issues. While many stood firmly with the Union against the odds, it was already without a doubt to him that, on the 292nd year since the foundation of the Union, people were slowly forgetting about the lesson from 391 years ago, when the bombs first dropped upon western Mederum.

Shen himself were not there to witness the horror of Great War himself, but the stories passed down the family remained to warn the Shen family of the consequences of a divided western Mederum. It was 391 years past the War already, but Shen and his predecessors never forgot of the responsibility bestowed upon them by their lineage.

He may not be as great as the legendary Chen Xuewu^[1] in history, but their love for the Union and mankind was shared equal. No matter how harsh things may become to him, he has no remorse. He will protect the Union by all means necessary, even if that meant playing the bad guy in history. Reforms within the Union is necessary, but pushing it too fast would only result in a disaster, and he will stop it from happening no matter what it takes.

Whats troubling him right now, however, was the ongoing war in Qarik.

As he dived deep into thought, his transport has come to a smooth landing on the runway. Today, he was here with his Secretary of National Defense to prepare for the upcoming conference with the leaders from the other side. The Union did not condone the aggression of Harsu and his army against their neighbour, but having him overthrown in a worst case scenario would benefit no one but the even more repressive Qariki regime.

"Mr. Protector, we have arrived." A voice drew Shen back to reality. The speaker was Alexei F. Zhenov, the acting Union President of the country. While Alexei was the elected representative of the opposition in the government, Shen was glad that he was the one in the position. Alexei holds different opinions with the establishment over the future of Tangaliro, but unlike those of his overzealous and idealistic compatriots. Alexei was an intelligent pragmatist willing to temporarily set aside his ideals and compromise with others to forward his agendas. His practical approaches won him the favor of both sides, putting him in his current place. Despite their difference, Shen has found his cooperation with his elected counterpart overall pleasant.

"Very well." Shen nodded. "Lets get going then, Mr. President."

The group of three stepped off from the plane. Looking around, Shen could notice that the security details of the airport were visibly heavier than usual. Besides the Marinians, he could see before them a team of 16 well-armed and properly uniformed Union Diplomatic Security Group guards waiting by the sides of an armored Siegfried-Franz^[2] black SUV, the designated ride for them. Standing between the two lines of guards before them was a man in tidy suit, likely an embassy worker.

"Salute!" The guards saluted the three. Shen nodded in approval of the tidy formation of the guards, then returned the salute.

"Mr. Protector, Mr. President, I am Caelius Solarus, your guide from the embassy today. Please come this way." The man in suit greeted the three, then opened the door of the SUV for them.

"Very well, thanks." Shen nodded. "A member of the Solarus family?"

"Yes, my Protector, I am the eldest son of Mr. Augustus, currently working for the Union's embassy here." Caelius nodded. "The country may be small compared to the Union, but I hold confidence that you will grow to like this place."

"Very well, then. Mr. Caelius, show us the way."

"My pleasure."

Worldwide Web

Seléne-Evielia Intercontinental Aerodrome, Nouvelles Canes, Etoile Marin

13 January, A.C. 391

Weaver

"Durch die tausend Augen (Through the Thousand Eyes) is a Tangaliroan wasteland tale depicting the post-Calamity wastelands of West Mederum through the perspective of a fictional sentient spider adventuring through the wastelands with his companion, a cat called 'Grug'. The novel is believed to be based on an amalgamation of the experience of various wasteland dwellers between 12 A.C. and 28 A.C. whose stories were passed on through verbal means and eventually mystified into the version recorded in the book, a usual situation for stories that occurred during the post-War lawless period in many countries. Its title 'Through the Thousands Eyes' is believed to be a metaphorical reference on the countless sources of its stories.

The literature work itself is viewed to be an important material in the study of the details of daily life for ordinary people during the lawless period, contributing a significant amount of information recorded in its enormous amount of scenes depicting the life of the dwellers in detail.

The exact identity of the writer of the book is unknown, but the author is believed to be of Teutonian origin by the language used to write the tales. A common belief is that the book was written by a travelling Teutonian knight of the Order of Civilization under an order to record the occurrence and stories of the wasteland for the future generations of mankind, both as a reference for history and as a warning for mankind to not repeat their mistakes.

As of 391 A.C., Durch die tausend Augen remained one of the most influential work in the genre of wasteland tales in Tangaliro, its stories being included in the middle school curriculum of Tangaliroan Literature as a mandatory component by the Tangaliroan Department of Enlightenment and Education."

—WorldWideWiki, Durch die tausend Augen

"Well, the fifth year of the search. I'm back at it again." Stepping off the plane, Weaver could feel the comfy Atlantic wind blowing on her face. Looking around her, all were usual for the airport. Today is the fifth year in a row of her search for a certain figure hiding in Etoile Marin. She had to temporarily depart the place for an identity renewal a few days ago, an inconvenience most immortal being has to bear every several decades unless they want to be exposed. Thanks to the old man's arrangement, however, the renewal process had been smooth and unobstructed.

Following the flow of passengers, Weaver entered the airport terminal. Before departing for Etoile Marin, the old man has informed her of an upcoming SSL-NCA conference in the city. Despite that, the city seemed to be in its usual. There were no major demonstration, no extra security or any other things one would usually expect on such occasion. That may be one attractive feature of the country to many. No matter what kind of shenanigans were occurring in the global background, this little star in the middle of the sea just remained the same, peaceful as it had always been.

Thinking of it, however, reminded Weaver subtly of some unhappy memories in another world, in a nation bearing the same name with this place.

Quick snapping out of it, Weaver approached the custom checkpoints. With the renewed identity, all was smooth in the check-in process. Lucky enough for her, the officers at the checkpoint were different from last year, so no one would recognize her at all. Though her worries may be unnecessary. After all, thousands of the people cross the checkpoints every day, it wasn't like anyone would specifically remember her.

"First time here?" the customs officer asked.

"Yes, my friends told me this place is perfect for vacation." Weaver answered with a smile. She was lying, however. It was already her fifth time in a row here already.

"Your friends sure are correct. Have a nice trip, mademoiselle. You are gonna like this place." The customs officer handed the identity paper back to Weaver, then opened the fence for her.

"Thank you." Weaver nodded, then went past the fence.

Now the only thing left to do is to find her. Putting her identity papers back into her pocket, she quietly thought.

In a Cottage Far Far Away

Rural Routelia, State of Gallia, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

15 January, A.C. 391

Kruger

"After the Calamity, as civilization and order collapsed to the aftermaths of the Great War, the various religions residing on Western Mederum were not spared from its impacts either. In the chaos of the lawless period, a group of Sinican Niepan Dao monks, out of pity for all beings under heaven, abandoned their religious discipline and stood out to become warriors for the weak.

Under the discipline of 'Killing is purgatory' and 'Entering purgatory for others so they don't have to', the Dragon-slaying Martial Monks traveled across the wastelands with their martial arts, slaying countless wrongdoers in protection of the good-minded but undefended ones. Along with them, the religion of Niepan Dao and their martial art techniques spread across the Union, eventually reaching even to the southern frontiers of the Union, inspiring countless people to convert and follow their courses.

After the restoration of order within the Union, the pre-Calamity Niepan Dao persisted to be a major religion within the Union, all thanks to the acts of the Dragon-slaying Martial Monks in spreading the religion itself. Meanwhile, the martial monks themselves, having fulfilled their mission, retired from the stage of history and returned to their search for spiritual salvation in peace."

—WorldWideWiki, the Dragon-slaying Martial Monks

Kruger knocked on the door. The old man living in this old cottage before him was an old acquaintance of his. The two have known each other for long, but unknowingly to the man in the cottage, Kruger has known him for even longer under different names for them both.

"Come in, the door's unlocked." A calm but energetic voice came out from the other side of the door.

Kruger gently pushed open the door, revealing the room inside. The contents of the room did not change much since his last visit. It was a simple room with little to no decoration besides its nicely-crafted wooden furniture and a cozy brick fireplace in the corner, yet every bit of it looked tidy and comfy. The owner and occupant of this cottage, Imalas J. Moreau, crafted the content of this little cottage of his on his own. He was also the carpenter for nearby settlers, making himself a simple but honest living through his craft in carpentry. The man was sitting on his rocking chair next to the fireplace, reading a scripture of Niepan Dao in peace. Kruger's sudden visit did not disturb him, as if he expected the visit all along.

"Hows things been for you?" Kruger looked around and sat down on a simple stool.

"Just as usual." Imalas calmly answered, his mind focused on his book. "You know, nothing much really happens here besides a few occasional raids from the south."

"Indeed, I just came across one days ago, a pretty well-armed one in fact. The settlers still crushed them, however."

"You interfered in the fight, didn't you?" Imalas flipped a page, his focus still on the book.

"Guess I can't hide anything from you, Imalas."

"It is not that hard to know, Kruger." Imalas gently folded the page, then gently closed the book, setting it aside. "We have known each other for long enough."

"It has been a long time indeed."

"So, what is your agenda today? You are not just here to share your story with an old man like me, are you?"

"Well. I was just stopping by the village, thought it would be a nice chance to pay you a visit."

"I see." Imalas stood up from his rocking chair and approached a small drawer. "Tea?"

"Sure."

"You know, Kruger." Imalas said as he picked out a batch of tea leaves from the drawer, then placed them inside a small tin kettle. "This region is indeed a good hiding spot within the Union if one are to hide away from the Union Council temporarily, but after four years, you are probably not going to find whoever you are searching for here. Even if they indeed at one point escaped to this place."

"You are not wrong." Kruger looked outside of the window. "But where else could they be?"

"I don't know, my friend." Imalas gently hung the kettle over the fire. "I would be looking on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean if I were you, however."

"I see."

"Though, Kruger?" Imalas sat back down on his comfy rocking chair. "I have been curious. Is there anything behind your obsession over that person you are searching for?"

"It is a long story." Normally, Kruger would be lighting up a cigarette already, but he's out of them right now. Besides, Imalas does not like smokers. "I'm obliged to keep it secret, however. Sorry about that."

"It is fine. There are things that one can freely talk about and things that one cannot. However, I have to offer you an advice, my friend. Sometimes it is better for one to let go. When one obsesses over something, they may hurt themselves and people they love in the pursue of it. They may be better off without you around for now."

"I beg to differ." Kruger rose up. "She needs my protection. How could a girl like her manage on her own? She's only 12 when she disappeared!"

"Calm down, my friend. Calm down." Imalas gestured him to sit back down. "Now, look at yourself, you have already exposed her gender to me in agitation. If I have been someone else, there could have been...consequences. Are you really sure you would be bringing protection instead of danger to her with your current condition?"

Kruger fell silent.

"From your own past words, you taught her a lot. I'm sure these skills will become of great use for her in her survival. But your search may just draw unnecessary danger towards her. Have you ever considered how much attention you may be receiving from the Union Security Service^[3] as of now?"

"I have double-checked, no one could be following me right now." Kruger said in a firm tone, but softened down soon after. "Perhaps you are not wrong, though."

"I'm glad that you can understand. Besides, it has already been four years since her initial disappearance. If she really couldn't manage, she would already have be-" Imalas stopped, noticing the terrifying look on Kruger's face. He stared into his eyes for seconds, then sighed.

"You haven't changed a bit. Lets talk about something else."

Hostage Situation

Tangaliroan Embassy, Nouvelles Canes, Etoile Marin

15 January, A.C. 391

Grand Union Protector Generalissimo Shen Xuewen of All Under Heaven
Union Council
Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

"They may be well-minded for their nation, but Anya and her supporters could not sustain a prosperous Sanjari Empire in its current status. It is a shame, but a hard truth."

—Union Protector Generalissimo Shen Xue Wen of All Under Heaven
On the Exiles; 387 A.C.

"Mr. Protector!" an embassy staff broke into the room, disturbing Shen from his work. "An urgent situation is demanding your response right now."

"What is it?" It was not the first time Shen has been paid sudden visits by his subordinates. With his experience, he was not startled at all. However, Shen knew very well that usually this could mean nothing good.

"The Sanjaris, sir. They have held our embassy hostage." The staff said as he handed Shen the detailed report of the situation.

Shen carefully finished reading the report, then stood up and threw it aside in anger. "How insolent! Get me the line for the Department of National Defense, get the secretary here as well, I want them present in-" Shen took a quick look at the clock in the corner of the room. "15 minutes!"

"Hold on, partner." Alexei calmly walked into the room, already in his full suit. "Don't you think this is suspicious? Currently, Harsu is of all time in the most desperate need of our support, the logical action for them would have suggested against this. The royal family is important to Sanjar's leadership, but I doubt this is Harsu's own work."

"What do you mean?" Shen frowned, but nodded in agreement. He has visited Harsu before, he knew the personality of the young emperor. There is certainly a misunderstanding between the two. Be it the true whereabouts of the disappeared princess and the men responsible behind the hostage situation.

"Intrigues, partner. Various forces in this world are eyeing on our sheer size and influence, there is not only one of them that wants to destroy us, or to take a good share of our wealth for themselves. The Union called upon the world to unite under one banner for the greater good of mankind, but let us be real, how many of them responded truthfully? Every minute, there are people lurking in the dark who want us dead. With Harsu away from Sanjar and the country itself in the middle of a chaotic war, anyone, the Exiles, the SSL, or even our allies among the NCA, to the extent of one of our own, could be exploiting the perfect occasion to conspire against us or Harsu's regime through a false flag operation. It's time to wake, Mr. Protector. Mankind is the same as it used to be. If we don't protect ourselves, the others will protect us in our place after stripping us of our wealth, lands and rights. We have to maneuver carefully on this under the worst assumption of humanity."

"Then what is your advice?" Shen was not convinced on his presidential counterpart's remark on humanity and the NCA, but he had to agree that Alexei's pragmatic analysis on the situation may be correct. They have to be careful in dealing with the ensuing chaos. One wrong step, and it would be a disaster for the Union.

"The news would take a bit longer to reach the public, get the army and navy mobilized and ready, but don't do anything yet." Alexei looked at his watch, then gestured for the embassy staff to listen. "Get us the line to Harsu, we need to give him a call."

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Chen Xuewu - The distant ancestor of acting Union Protector Shen Xuewen, a legendary pre-Calamity National Republic of Sinica general that led the New Xinjing National Government to reunify Sinica from the countless Northern and Southern warlords that split from their respective governments following the collapse of order to the destructions of the Great War. His son, Chen Quan, followed his father's step and conquered the rest of modern day Sinica, much of it belonging to pre-Calamity Velikiyaslavian Far North, and laid the territorial basis of modern Sinica under the banner of the New Sinican State. Chen Quan's grandson, Chen Huizhi, became one of the Union's founding father, integrated the vast territories of Sinica into Tangaliro. The Shen family was a branch of the Chen family, originating from the fourth daughter of Chen Quan, Chen Shuang.

2 - Siegfried-Franz - A pre-Calamity Teutonian automobiles company restored after the formation of the Union. It was one of the most dominant automobiles company within Tangaliro and likely also western Mederum, providing wheeled vehicles for consumer, military and government uses for many western Mederum countries.

3 - Union Security Service(USS) - The intelligence agency of Tangaliro handling the internal security of the Union. They were known to be formed largely on the basis of its state members' pre-Calamity secret police, domestic intelligence and security services and security agencies. Utilizing experience and methods left behind from what remained of these organizations after the Calamity in its organization and operation. However, its surveillance functions as a secret police were known to have been exercised with extreme restraints and caution since its initial foundation, only used as a last resort by the Union Council government when faced with major security threats.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Tue Dec 25, 2018 4:37 pm

Bhuj, Udaynarpur Raj
Raajakahsal Palace
Narasimhaswamy IV

The throne room of the Rajas of Udaynarpur, in the Raajakahsal Palace, could easily have served as a model for wasteful extravagance were it not that the offices of heads of state in, say, Tangaliro or Alvimia perhaps. It was a model, however, for the sheer economic power it's rulers wielded. Udaynarpur controlled some of the most important holy sites of Asvalayanism, practiced by virtually all inhabitants of the Vajrayan Empire, the profit from millions of pilgrims constantly streaming through it's territory allowed the Choraghad Dynasty to amass a treasure trove of wealth that made them probably the single richest family on the planet. It was this wealth that allowed Udaynarpur to expand, as well as defend itself from it's enemies...

In the throne room sat Narasimhaswamy the Fourth, the Raja of Udaynarpur. Narasimhaswamy had never quite recovered from the loss of his brother, Vani Vilasa Pathak, personally or politically. Since his murder by the Acasian 'spooks' two years ago, 'Narasim' had lost the one family member who was truly talented in military matters and was forced to cede more control of the military to it's generals than he would have liked, not to mention the emotional toll his unsolved murder had taken on the Raja.

The heavy wooden doors, probably made from some exotic tree, opened to let in one of the Raja's miscellaneous advisers - trillions of dollars meant he could employ as many people as he wanted, essentially. The advisor seemed to need to say something to the Raja, but who knew what? He performed the customary kowtow to his seated Raja, then rose from the ground.

"Maharaj! I bear unfortunate news," the advisor began. Narasimhaswamy wondered what he meant, so far at least. "What news should I concern myself with?" he said, in an accent that made him seem slightly annoyed. "The Emperor of Emperors, Satagopacharya fears you - in secret, he collaborates with Jamsharkot and the Raja of Hoshangabad to overthrow you. Many of the other states will likely support him." Narasimhaswamy made one of those expressions that showed a mixture of shock and rage at once, though the Raja could contain the worst of his anger. "Bring me my generals at once! I will not be stabbed in the back!"

Many of the various officials in the room nodded, while the 'bearer of bad news' himself departed. A few minutes later, a number of the Raja's military officials entered - though there was only one who was an actual general, Dhirtarashtra Mirchandani. Mirchandani was probably the one person who was most needed though, given that he commanded the IV. Motorized Division, which was the only military unit of Undaynarpur's military that could attack the Vajrayan Emperor at the moment.

"Mirchandani!" the Raja called. Mirchandani was still unaware of what had transpired, or why he was needed. "What is requested of me?" he asked. "We are betrayed! The Gonshawars and their slaves array themselves against us, oblivious of what I am capable of! They lurk in the shadows, hoping I show myself to be weak, but they will be the ones to be found weak! Here is what I need of you: Fly to Palansiddhur and take command of your division, then strike at the Gonshawars! Give no warning, and strike swiftly. I will convene my other commanders and decide what else to do, but your orders will not be questioned... Go!"

The general left with the others, while the Raja considered his next move.

Bhuj, Udaynarpur Raj
Raajakahsal Palace
Manas Chaudhari

Manas Chaudhari was the Marshal-Commander of Udaynarpur's military, it's official head and the most second powerful person in the Raj, eclipsed only by the Raja himself. Since Narasimhaswamy's hasty decision to launch a strike on the Gonshawars, most of the higher commanders of the military present had assembled in one of the Palace's conference rooms, forming a council of war to determine what actions they would take against the Gonshawars. Manas essentially had the final say in the proceedings.

Narasimhaswamy decided to start things off, looking at a map of Udaynarpur overlaid at his table with the locations and names of all it's divisions provided. "Earlier I commanded the general controlling the 4th Motorized Division, numbering twenty-seven thousand men to launch a surprise attack on the Gonshawars territory, though I've heard said general is unable to leave here for Palansiddhur. Is that true?" he asked. One of the non-military staff in the room could answer that question. "It's correct, the airport's closed. He's left to take a military plane there last time I checked." The Raja sighed. "I want him to be present in the area when the time comes, I'll have to accept a delay. Regardless," he coughed. "I presume our neighbors will join the Gonshawars. Our neighbors are all rather insignificant, individually. If they all join the Gonshawars though, that would be problematic. I propose that we attack essentially every state north of Palansiddhur and east of Dhrangadhra to eliminate them as quickly as we can."

Most of those present in the room nodded, among other things, conquering said neighbors would allow all of the Udaynarpur military to operate in conjunction with one another, rather than having to manage the military units of it's various enclaves and subdivisions which acted essentially as autonomous militaries of their own. The best example of this was the lands of the Mahalanabid Dynasty, including the city of Palansiddhur, which was inherited by the Raj's Choraghad Dynasty a couple of generations ago. The lands of the Mahalanabid Dynasty were now garrisoned by five divisions of Udaynarpur's territory, and basically had to supply themselves. The supply situation would improve if they were connected to Udaynarpur proper.

Manas decided to now insert himself into the conversation. "Maharaj, if you may permit me to propose a plan of attack," he started, waiting for the Raja's approval. "Yes?" he said. Manas continued. "I propose the following: We take the Palansiddhur Royal Guards," he placed his finger on the map, placing it on the division icon of the Royal Guards, and then dragged it towards a lake. "and attack these two cliques to gain control of the entire river and most of the local population. The Jodhaur Royal Guards will attack this clique, connecting the city to where the Khodpur Rifles are currently located. Meanwhile, the Khodpur Rifles will attack this whole general border region, while the Mandsaur Rifles and the 7th Motorized link up together..."

The conversation continued for several more minutes as the Marshal-Commander, the Raja and several others debated which locations their units should attack and at what intervals, before they finally settled on an official plan. The stage was set for the states of the Vajrayan Empire to once again erupt into war, a war that Udaynarpur might well win...

by **Valefontaine** » Tue Dec 25, 2018 7:59 pm

ANZU

Sanjari No-Fly Zone H9

16 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

VFA-125 had launched from the FSS Alexandria a mere thirty minutes prior, bound east through the Great Qarik Desert. Satellite footage indicated military activity had suddenly returned to the ANZU relay. The ANZU relay was a curiosity to the Euphemians. It was, in many ways, an imitation of the Euphemians' EIDOLON project. EIDOLON had been a canceled project from the '60s to develop a supergun capable of launching satellites into space. ANZU, on the other hand, seemed to be a supergun exclusively with military capacity in mind. It could, at any moment, send a 800mm shell barreling towards the Royal Palace in Qarik. The effects of that would be, of course, problematic — both for Qarik and Euphemie.

Through the cloudline, Billy's F-13 Hexmaiden emerged, trailed closely by nine other aircraft of the squadron. To the east, just ahead of them, the sun was rising, casting a pristine orange light upon the horizon of Sanjar. Below them, the cities, villages and towns of western Sanjar were visible, urban lights shining through the dawn.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Blackstar to VFA-125. Presence of Sanjari aircraft near ANZU site has been confirmed. Prepare for engagement."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "We've got a ASF-389 KALAT^[1] group moving in from the east."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "I thought we dealt with their air force. Why we up against so many of 'em?"

Indeed, Billy could see there were 15 'blips' on the RWR pertaining to the enemy. It'd be troublesome, especially considering these aircraft were almost up to par with the Hexmaiden.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. Marie Felix] /// - "They didn't lose much of their air force — just grounded it when the No-Fly Zone began."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "Moving to engage."

Billy brought the F-13 lower, until they were down to about 5,000 feet. They might be more vulnerable, but this was their opportunity to attack. The ANZU relay was down below, munitions depot situated beside it. The cannon was pointed to the sky, illuminated by lights. It seemed as if poised to strike.

"So, what'll we be doing?" Billy asked, focused on what lay ahead.

"The rest of the group can focus on the enemy aircraft and the Relay. Us on the other hand, we'll be distracting them. Drop the two bombs we've got on the munitions depot, and then come back up. I'll engage any aircraft that come after us." Marie replied from behind him. Her strategies were often daring, yet they had a tendency to succeed. He wasn't about to begin questioning it now.

"Gotcha." Billy conducted another descent with the F-13.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "This is Spades 2-2, we're breaking formation to take out the munitions depot."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "We'll keep a lock on it for you."

The afterburners brought them lower, now speeding directly at the weapons depot. 3000 feet became 2000 feet, and so on. Before the altimeter went below 1000, two laser-guided 1000lb bombs dropped from their hardpoints, speeding towards their destination.

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Strategic Asset Unit] - [Col. Z. Darzi] /// - "Euphemian intruder! I take it you have not come for sightseeing. We have a fireworks show prepared for you, visitors!"

As the Hexmaiden sped upward, the munitions factory detonating below them, they came under fire from sporadic Sanjari anti-air fire. It seemed they didn't dare use radar AA — probably because of all the SEAD runs that had plagued the desert country's armed forces in the first days of the war. Inaccurate 20mm fire exploded around them as they ascended, though something else was of a concern to Billy, however.

The RWR continued its series of beeps and chirps, to which Billy deployed countermeasures and conducted a split-S turn.

"I've got a lock. Three ASF-389s were tryin' to get behind us. Now comes the surprise."

WHOOSH

Four AAM-176 ARGO missiles sped off, tailing their targets. One of the Kalats attempted a turn to evade the coming missile, but it had been too late. The missile struck the right side of the fuselage, splitting the Sanjari aircraft in two and sending the burning. The Hexmaiden flew past the terrible scene, the other two Sanjari aircraft exploding behind them.

"You always manage somehow." Billy chuckled, bringing the F-13 back on a westbound course. The munitions depot was in flames now, a spectacle of explosions erupting across the warehouse.

"You know it." Marie replied.

The ANZU cannon itself had sustained damages from attacks conducted by the other fighters, yet it remained operational.

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Strategic Asset Unit] - [Col. Z. Darzi] /// - "Load 800mm High-Explosive."

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Strategic Asset Unit] - [Lt. N. Su-abu] /// - "Loading."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Blackstar to VFA-125. The ANZU relay is now preparing to fire. Destroy it as soon as possible!"

"What've we got left?" Billy asked, looking back to Marie.

"Two AGM-77 Viper^[2] missiles, and one ARGO. Are you—"

"We're gonna destroy the gun." Billy sent the Hexmaiden speeding down. At 500 feet, they'd quickly become a target for anti-aircraft on the ground. The afterburners accelerated the flight, and soon the F-13 was speeding towards the ANZU gun at 800mph.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked, hesitant as they sped towards the cannon head-on.

"We don't have much of a choice now, do we?"

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Strategic Asset Unit] - [Lt. N. Su-abu] /// - "Shell loaded."

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Strategic Asset Unit] - [Col. Z. Darzi] /// - "FIRE!"

WHOOSH

The missiles careened into the structure of the gun, the cannon collapsing sideways and destroying whatever lay in its wake. Support beams, wires and metal scaffolding were torn to shreds as the entire machination came apart, not unlike a house of cards falling apart in the wind. The Hexmaiden reduced its speed as it flew past the burning wreckage, performing a final S-turn before it was back on a westbound course.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "VFA-125, this is Blackstar. The ANZU relay and its munition depot have been destroyed. Return to the FSS Alexandria for debrief."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "That was fuckin' A!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "The Qarikis should be grateful."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #206808] - [Amn. C. Stevens] /// - "The gun didn't fire?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "...Hang on."

"Shit." Billy muttered under his breath.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "An explosion has just been reported at the Qariki royal palace."

Things were about to go from bad to worse.

Remember Your Black Day

Embassy of the Federal States of Euphemie, Qarik City, Emirate of Qarik

16 January, A.C. 391

Col. Augustus James H.B. Marlow
5th Special Operations Element
1st AB Order Division "Nightstalkers"
Presidential Order of Patriotism, Action Branch

Only fifty minutes prior, most of the Qariki royal palace had been obliterated in a Sanjari artillery strike, killing the Emir and one-hundred and sixteen of the country's many princes. It was bound to cause a succession dispute, of course, but that didn't really concern the Presidential Order of Patriotism.

While Qariki and Euphemian troops were dragging the dead and wounded from the smoldering rubble, the shutters lifted an inch from the Euphemian embassy.

"Quite the mess, wouldn't you say?" Albers looked away from the sight of the ruined royal palace, glancing back to Marlow.

"The Sanjaris are responsible?" Marlow asked.

"Of course. SIGINT aircraft flying above Etoile Marin intercepted a satellite phone call from Harsu to a certain Colonel Darzi, ordering the attack on the Qariki royal palace. Perhaps his intent was to throw the Emirate into chaos, or perhaps it's retaliation for what happened to Misharu."

"I assume you called me here for a reason, though." Marlow raised an eyebrow, looking to Albers.

"Yes, I did, in fact." Albers smirked. Marlow always was right to the point. "The Order has plans in Sanjar... and perhaps there's some money to be made, too."

"Go on." Marlow replied.

"There's a drug cultivated by the tribes southeast of Qarik, a drug called Pamyat. While they typically consume it for themselves, the substance is highly addictive... withdrawal has violent, often fatal effects. It's never been widespread beyond Haqiqah, but if we got some of the stuff flowing into Arslan, the Order predicts it'll inflict damage on a societal level." Albers explained. "We're going to help create the first Sanjari drug cartel, Marlow."

"I've done worse things." Marlow chuckled.

Retaliation

International Waters

16 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

Despite VFA-125's failure to destroy the ANZU relay before it fired, they'd been given a second task no less than eight hours later. NACC wanted to solidify the humiliation of Sanjari forces before Harsu's expected return to Sanjar, so they'd been given another mission within hours of the previous.

From the cockpit of the F-13 Hexmaiden, Billy had a clear view of the entire Sanjari coastline. They were to dive soon, however, to exploit the Sanjari's Western Fleet's radar's blindspots. The curvature of Tsion was inherently beneficial in this regard.

The sun was in the west, making a gradual descent. VFA-125 numbered 22 aircraft in total, and for the particularly harsh circumstances of this mission, all of them had been deployed. It was no doubt that the intent of the operation was brutal, swift retaliation for the incident in Qarik.

"We just won't get a break, will we?" Billy watched the rather beautiful sight of the Sanjari coast at sunset. It never failed to impress him with its unparalleled beauty — the only sight remotely capable of amazing him was the sheer scale of Torch City from the air.

"Perhaps we should've destroyed the ANZU gun first." Marie was particularly annoyed at how things had turned out — the regret, paired with the thought of what if — what if she had fired just a moment earlier? A few hundred more Qarikis would've been alive.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "VFA-125, this is Blackstar. Working overtime today, I see. The Sanjari fleet's presence has been confirmed southwest of Garil, Manae. While many of the vessels are damaged, do not underestimate the capacity of their defenses. There are, however, more of us than there are them — your loadouts being almost entirely anti-ship missiles, all should perform smoothly if you keep your wits about you. Out."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. Marie Felix] /// - "Ladies n' gents, we're going to descend now. Remember the order, Hexmaidens one and two will handle BC-2, Hexmaidens three and four will handle BC-3. Five to eleven will handle the destroyers, ten to twenty-two will handle the frigates."

"I didn't misremember the orders, did I?"

"Nah." Billy gradually brought the aircraft onto a descending course. Their target was the ISN Jushur (BC-2). They'd already taken out the Ereshkigal before, but the Sanjari navy had probably become aware of just how vulnerable their battlecruisers were. It wouldn't be a surprise if they'd prepared this time.

Soon enough, they were only 400 feet above the surface, bound on a northeastern course. The coordinates and specifications had already been sent to their Hexmaiden by the E-901 Skyking, so they needed only fire and forget.

A few seconds of scanning was all they needed to confirm the data sent by the AWACS.

"Firing." Marie announced. Six missiles flew ahead of them, and the F-13 turned back on a southwestern course.

"Godspeed." Billy watched the RWR. Twelve blips in total were converging upon the Jushur, two disappearing while the rest seemingly struck the vessel with success.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Blackstar, confirm hit?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Spades 2-2, this is Blackstar. Hit on the Jushur has been confirmed. Ship is currently listing to starboard, on fire."

This fate was one that wouldn't be uncommon to solely the Sanjari battlecruiser. As they flew back to the FSS Alexandria, one of the Sanjari vessels made their broadcast — and an oddly confusing one at that.

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Balih (BC-3)] - [Unknown] /// - "Arise! Today is your Red Letter Day."

The strange transmission had come from one of the doomed battlecruisers.

"Some kinda coded message?" Billy questioned.

Marie shrugged. "Whatever, they're screwed. Whatever. Let's play pool or somethin' when we get back."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [Naval Launch Command, FSS Alexandria] /// - "All units return to carrier. An unprecedented amount of radio activity has been reported across Sanjar. We suspect it was a coded message."

Dissent

Arslan, Empire of Sanjar

16 January, A.C. 391

Harsu I iv Sanjar
Imperial House of Sanjar
Sanjar Empire

Harsu had returned to Sanjar earlier than he'd preferred. The Euphemian president had angered him, certainly, but he had also revealed to him the sheer scale of internal dissent at the highest echelons of power in Sanjar. Harsu, Astoreth and Karduk were the three most powerful people in Sanjar at the current moment, unequaled now with Misharu's death.

Stepping off the plane, the carefree nature that'd been among them was gone now. Harsu was quiet as they entered the SUV, with a contingent of guards that was larger than usual.

Arslan was a city unparalleled by any other, built upon Sanjar's vast wealth. The roads were lined in bronze, one of many resources Sanjar had in vast abundance.

"Perhaps it is true, then, that the Tangaliroans do not have Sanjar's best interests in mind." Harsu noted, breaking the silence among his three fellow royals. "When we reach the palace, I want every traitor in this government found and killed. Half of the Western Theatre Forces will be brought to central Sanjar to assist. The other half will deliver the final answer to the Qariki question. I want my most loyal units to spearhead the purge." Harsu was serious now, more than he'd ever been. Perhaps the invasion of Qarik had created a blossoming opportunity for Harsu — one that would allow him to finally rid Sanjar of its cowards and traitors.

"Unidentified vehicle trailing the royal motorcade." Astoreth glanced out the window.

RATATATA

The vehicle, an unmarked black van, approached the royal SUV, windows open with masked gunmen firing from their seats. They weren't counting on the emperor's SUV being bulletproof, however.

From the other two vehicles in the motorcade, the royal guards returned fire, one of the assailants falling limp at the passenger door, blood trickling down the side of the door. The van then began to break away from the convoy, until a distance lay between them.

"Wait a minute—" Karduk's eyes widened, and his next gut move was to open the door and push Harsu out, leaping out with him. Before Astoreth could question why, the SUV exploded, rolling and crashing into the security car ahead of them.

One of the attackers had fired a rocket launcher, though the black van collided with the wreckage, the attackers being gunned down by royal guards as their vehicle came to an abrupt halt.

Harsu groaned from the fall, but upon realizing it was only Karduk and himself who'd gotten out of the vehicle, he hurried towards the burning wreckage. The royal SUV had flipped over during the crash, but he could still see Astoreth was inside, untouched by the blaze.

"Your Highness! Wait!" Karduk hurried over, unable to stop Harsu as he crawled into the burning vehicle.

"If I die, I will die doing what is right!" Harsu responded, unbuckling Astoreth's seatbelt. He caught her as she fell, dragging her out of the wreckage amid agonized groans — he'd probably hurt something when he'd been pushed out of the vehicle.

"Your Highness! Get in!" The royal guard car that'd been protecting their rear had stopped just by the scene of the crash, the guards abandoning their seats for the three royals.

"Get us to the palace. Now!" Harsu ordered, hurrying inside with his unconscious cousin in his arms.

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - ASF-389 KALAT - ASF-389 (Sanjari name: Kalat) is a twin-engine thirteenth-generation^[A] jet fighter aircraft of Tangaliroan origin. The export models were vastly upgraded and redesigned by the Sanjaris, which gave rise to the Sanjari-made 'Kalat' model.

2 - AGM-77 Viper - The AGM-77 is a Euphemian close air support air-to-surface missile (AGM), developed in the 370s as a multirole weapon for use against ground targets.

A - thirteenth-generation - Thirteenth-generation jet fighters arose in the mid-late 370s, with a renewed emphasis on maneuverability and dogfighting. Examples include the Tangaliroan ASF-389, the Euphemian F-19, F/A-17, F/A-127, and the F-13.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Wed Dec 26, 2018 12:10 am

Nouvelles Lunes, Etoile Marin
Nicanor
1/15/391 A.C.

Nicanor had certainly been awaiting the Aedifex’s visit to Etoile Marin for a fair bit now, and was delighted to finally meet up with him - however, the two wouldn’t be meeting just yet. Aedifex had to make the drive from the airport at Nouvelles Cannes to his apartment in Nouvelles Lunes in a taxi, so for the moment they were just conversing via phone.

“It has been a while indeed,” Nicanor said in response to Aedifex’s introduction.

"What've you been up to in Etoile Marin? I'm on... important business... myself." Came the reply. The Aedifex didn't often leave Torch City — perhaps its vices were too much an attraction — so for him to be on Etoile Marin would certainly merit some curiosity.

“Surprisingly little, if I’ll be honest. Etoile Marin is in many aspects like a decently oversized beach resort, except that it’s a little bit easier to avoid the fellow tourists. The weather’s good, and so is life. How have you been though?”

"There's a... matter of moderate concern that mandates my presence on this island. No, it has nothing to do with all the politicians and royalty — though that Princess is quite the darling — rather, it's a matter that concerns Awenyddion." The Aedifex responded.

“She really is. What’s the matter though?” Nicanor asked.

"Your compatriot, the Gatekeeper, was assessing some leads in Akhmanar. Let's just say the revelations that'll come of it... are rather incriminating to Codex." Aedifex answered. The Codex was, of course, one of the rivalling Archons, and was perhaps the only one that hadn't hidden themselves away in the world of Tsion. "We'll discuss that and more when we arrive."

A little later, the Aedifex arrived. Knocking on Nicanor’s door, he opened up to see Aedifex in. “Hello hello,” he said.

"Certainly been awhile." The Aedifex entered the apartment space, looking around. To them, perhaps 17 years was a simple 'awhile'... "So, what's been transpiring in Etoile Marin as of late? I'm aware of the whole conference thing, but I simply haven't looked much into the local 'intrigue' of this whole... royal court and all."

“Being honest, it’s kinda boring. There’s more drama involving Parliament than the royals themselves - you can imagine they’d prefer to hide any sort of drama, you know?” he commented.

"Of course." The Aedifex agreed. "Perhaps it's due time we enjoyed the high life of this place. The Archons, Angels, all that." He stopped, as if he'd remembered something. "Ah, yes. What the Gatekeeper found... there's a series of shipments going from Awenyddion to Tangaliro every now and then. The Gatekeeper found a certain ship to be carrying a shipment of fruit. What it does — I don't precisely know. The shipment is bound for an estate pertaining to a Tangaliroan aristocratic family — House Solarus.."

“How is this important?” Nicanor asked. “Is it something to do with the fruit?”

"It's important because," The Aedifex paused, as if for dramatic effect. "Gatekeeper found the manifest, which indicated the cargo in question was directly approved by Cordelia, or rather, the Codex. For the Codex to directly approve the shipment is... unusual, certainly. Perhaps it's related to other Reprobi, perhaps it isn't. Either way, it's a lead I've taken to investigating — to which I'm after a certain Angel on this island, one who knows more about this matter." At this point, it was rare two Angels be in the same place at once. They had scattered since the Fall, dissipating to obscurity in the centuries that'd been.

“Why would the Codex be involved in approving shipments? Is there something else hidden on there, perhaps?” Nicanor questioned.

"That we'll find out. For now, I suppose we're back in the whole... business. The great game. I'll be speaking to the other Angel present on this island, Galla, regarding the Codex's plot. However..." The Aedifex glanced out the window, curiously watching the busy streets outside. "Now that I think of it, though — this island would be an excellent opportunity for us to gain clout. After all, investigating this matter further may require things like money, and connections beyond just other Angels."

“And how do you suppose we’ll get clout? Unless you want to hang out at parties with… well, I do suppose you are always one for parties.” Nicanor chuckled.

"I suppose I'll use what money I have left to get us a business up and running. It'll be the start of something greater, though."

What the Aedifex didn't say, however, was the sheer amount of counterfeiting, drug-running and contraband-selling his plan would entail.

International Waters
Northern Strike Group
Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu
1/20/391 A.C.

Two days after the Sanjari Western Fleet’s ‘Red Letter Day’, Acasia’s Northern Strike Group had assembled and departed from the port city of Ustya to engage and destroy Sanjari naval elements on their eastern seaboard - with prior approval from the rest of Novus Concordus. In a rare example of inter-alliance coordination, an Euphemian submarine would be working with the Acasian navy to defeat the Sanjaris, while Akhmanari air force units would also assist. The 114th Ghosts Squadron of the Acasian Air Force, led by Captain Ionel Negoitescu would be one of the first units to arrive and provide anti-shipping support when the battle started. At the present moment, his squadron of twelve aircraft had just come onto station a few miles ahead of the flagship of the naval force.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Welcome to station, Ghosts.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “Thank you. What enemy forces can we expect?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Intelligence reports the presence of two Sanjari battlecruisers, as well as nine frigates and ten destroyers in the area. We’re currently out-numbered, so we’re trying to keep our distance. I’m aware more anti-ship squadrons will be coming in soon, correct?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “First one after us’ll be here in about… thirty minutes? Yeah, thirty minutes.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Understood. We do have some assistance other than your anti-shipping missiles though. That is to say, a submarine.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “A what? From where?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Classified. Look, the submarine should be able to do alot of our job for us, but you still have to take part. The closest target is the battlecruiser Kish, which is escorting a few destroyers consisting of the Ishbi-Erra, Ninurta and Yakmesi. The battlecruiser is the priority target, everything else is secondary.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “Can we expect any enemy anti-air?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “I can’t say for certain if they’ll have any aircraft at all, in light of the no-fly-zone. Ground-based AA consists of nothing but non radar-guided triple A, the ships will be carrying the normal sort of weaponry you’d expect.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “Understood. We’ll move in to launch on the battlecruiser and then destroyers.”

The squadron of planes, which had formed into four V shaped patterns, raced north to intercept the initial Sanjari force before the rest of the Eastern Fleet could arrive. After an uneventful fifteen-minute approach towards the fleet, one of Ionel’s subordinates piped in.

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Nelu Ojacarcu] /// - “I’ve never been in an actual battle before...”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “None of us have. We’ll fire our missiles and then the next squadrons will do all the heavy work. By the time we’re restocked their fleet will be gone.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Nelu Ojacarcu] /// - “Don’t you worry about the anti-air?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “What are a bunch of sand-dwelling water bandits going to do to us? Look at how Euphemie handled them.”

Mild chuckling from one or two of the other pilots came through. That was the end of the discussion for the next couple of minutes, which were eerily quiet, until the Acasian planes had finally closed into range to launch their missiles against the Sanjari ships.

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “I picked up a Sanjari to Acasian dictionary a couple days ago. I wonder how good it is?”

He messed with his radio momentarily in order to receive and send messages with the Sanjari fleet.

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Kish (BC-5)] - [Unknown] /// - “Turn back now! If you do not comply, you will be shot down.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “Our missiles will block out the sun.”

Ionel switched his radio back to communicate with his squadron.

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “A Section, B Section, fire ordinance at the Kish. C Section, fire at targets of opportunity.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Serban Radacanu] /// - “The Kish?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “The battlecruiser.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Serban Radacanu] /// - “Copy.”

A stream of anti-ship missiles flew out from the various formations of aircraft in the sky towards the battlecruiser and it’s escorts, as Ionel ordered his planes to turn around.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Radar is picking up missile launches from the battlecruiser and escorts. They’re trying to fire off their payload on us.”

As the anti-ship missiles closed in, the Sanjari CIWS went to work. Although the planes each carried two anti-shipping missiles, each plane only fired one. Still, eight missiles were homing in on the Kish. The first three were shot down, but the missiles proved too fast and the CIWS too ineffective. The next five all hit their mark, turning one of the two remaining Sanjari battlecruisers to scrap metal. It was rather fortunate so many hit, although it was rather overkill.

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Kish (BC-5)] - [Unknown] /// - “If we die, we die maintaining our posts and taking you bastards with us! Destroy our attackers!”

After the desperate broadcast was sent out, the Kish, despite smoking heavily from her stern, had begun to fire back at the squadron. Anything that could be fired at the aggressors, be it missile or gun, were unleashed from the Kish in one last attempt to destroy her aggressors.

As it happened, the Kish carried twelve anti-ship missiles, one for each Acasian plane. As these went flying out of their tubes into the sky, the Acasians took notice.

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “Battlecruisers firing anti-air, take evasive action! It’s her death kneel!”

On cue, the planes broke out of their V-formations and scattered into the sky to avoid them. The missiles, however, were relatively good. Ionel found this out seeing one explosion in the sky, that of one of his squadron planes.

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Dorin Lucescu] /// - “Shit! My controls are all fucked! Can anyone see my back?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Mihai Brâncoveanu] /// - “You’re on fire!”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Dorin Lucescu] /// - “Fuck this, I’ll take my chances!”

Ionel thought he could distantly see an ejection seat shoot out of the smoking hulk of the pilot’s plane. Two more explosions quickly followed, the other missiles impacting.

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Lt. Nelu Ojacarcu] /// - “Help! My plane’s-”

Static, as a second explosion erupted from one of the struck planes. The other missiles were dodged, but the 144th Anti-Shipping Squadron was already at 75% strength, with one KIA, one MIA and one pilot in need of rescue. All Ionel could do was lead his squadron back to refuel with some tankers as the Acasian fleet continued with a new anti-shipping squadron to protect it. The Acasian fleet had problems of its own now, though. The Kish’s cruise missiles were encroaching as well.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Kogalniceaunu (D-220)] - [Cpt. Sorin Albu] /// - “Kogalniceaunu is hit! Badly! Most our navigation systems just shut off -- our engine is gone! Multiple fires. We’re crippled.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Macek (D-218)] - [Cpt. Manuel Neagoe] /// - “We’re hit as well, damage assessment in a second… Missile hit our stern, knocked out one of our CIWS guns. Damage controls working on it.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Kogalniceaunu, abandon ship. Cantacuzino, pull up alongside and embark the crew to your ship. Try and treat all the wounded.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Cantacuzino (D-125)] - [Cpt. Sergiu Ilie] /// - “Copied, maneuvering to assist in evacuation.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “We have bigger problems ahead. The other battlecruiser and six frigates are moving in our direction. 26th Anti-Shipping, do you copy?”

/// [ACAFOR] - [26th ‘Nightraiders’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Nicolas Bengescu] /// - “Copy.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “The 71st should be on station in five minutes. Loiter in Combat Air Patrol around the fleet.”

/// [ACAFOR] - [26th ‘Nightraiders’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Nicolas Bengescu] /// - “Understood.”

While more planes took up airspace around the fleet, the Sanjaris were about to have a surprise.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Fleet] - [2nd Deep Strike Component] - [FSS Baxley (SSBN-962)] - [Cpt. Fredrick Ridgeway] /// - "Hopefully I'm not late to the party, gentlemen."

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “You aren’t. Seven targets approaching us, let’s see how quickly we can sink them.”

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Fleet] - [2nd Deep Strike Component] - [FSS Baxley (SSBN-962)] - [Cpt. Fredrick Ridgeway] /// - "Understood."

From a rather unassuming spot in the ocean, sixty-four kilometers to the southwest, fifteen smoke-trails suddenly rose in quick succession of one another, speeding past the Acasian vessels and towards the approaching targets.

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Etana (BC-4)] - [R.Adm. Samsu Abi-eshuh] /// - "Two torpedoes, port side! Turn to evade!"

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Etana (BC-4)] - [Unknown] /// - "[unintelligible]...it's coming right at us, sir—"

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Etana (BC-4)] - [R.Adm. Samsu Abi-eshuh] /// - "May the Moon spare us."

As two detonations erupted on the port side of the Sanjari battlecruiser, the superstructure of the vessel was engulfed in a fireball as three BGM-606 'Battleaxe' cruise missiles careened into the ship from above. When the explosions had settled, the Etana's hull had become a blazing wreck, still pressing onward even as it listed to the starboard side. The sinking of the vessel was periodically accompanied by sporadic explosions, as the flames reached the undetonated ammunition onboard.

The ISN Samani (DDG-26), which sailed beside the ill-fated Etana, suddenly faced a similar fate, two torpedoes detonating upon its bow and the superstructure being bombarded by three cruise missiles. The explosion was enough to incapacitate the Sanjari destroyer, bringing it to a halt beside the Etana, which was in the process of sinking.

The incident was enough to alert the other five ships, their CIWS attempting to intercept the incoming cruise missiles — at least one missile had gotten past each of their defenses, striking them in similar fashion — save for two frigates, the ISN Mandaru (FFG-20), and the ISN Abazu (FFG-18).

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Excellent work, Baxley. We’ll take it from here.”

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Fleet] - [2nd Deep Strike Component] - [FSS Baxley (SSBN-962)] - [Cpt. Fredrick Ridgeway] /// - "Best of luck, and fair seas! Godspeed!"

As the Euphemian submarine disappeared back into the waves, the Acasian fleet took stock of it’s current situation. Only seven frigates and the same number of destroyers remained, which made things significantly more easier, though they were still outgunned. The 71st, 26th and 144th Squadrons by now were all present, and the Acasians would unleash all of them to clean up.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “All aerial squadrons: our friends have dispatched much of the Sanjari navy. There only remains fourteen ships of Harsu’s navy, add fourteen kills to your list!”

/// [ACAFOR] - [144th ‘Ghosts’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Ionel Negoitescu] /// - “Copy!”

/// [ACAFOR] - [26th ‘Nightraiders’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Nicolas Bengescu] /// - “Moving in!”

/// [ACAFOR] - [71th ‘Seabandits’ Anti-Shipping Squadron] - [Cpt. Adrian Olinescu] /// - “Let’s give Harsu something to cry about!”

The thirty-three anti-ship planes moved to intercept the scattered frigates and destroyers, littered across the southeastern coast of Sanjar. The destruction of both battlecruisers in such quick time seemed to have led to confusion over who should be commanding which battle groups, opportune for the Acasians. With about sixty anti-ship missiles available to spend, things were a forgone conclusion. Well, almost.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Sanjari Eastern Fleet! You have one last opportunity to surrender your ships before the remnants of the Sanjari navy are destroyed!”

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Etana (BC-4)] - [R.Adm. Samsu Abi-eshuh] /// - "You can eat our excrement, you pig-dogs! We would rather die for our emperor than to surrender to you."

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Cantacuzino (D-125)] - [ Cpt. Sorin Albu] /// - “You can eat our missiles, cur!”

A few moments after, the Acasian planes closed the gap yet again on the closest of the Sanjari ships.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “This is a sick joke. You should have listened.”

And in the blink of an eye, the first wave of missiles launched off the wingtips of the Acasian planes. As they soared in, the Sanjaris could only hope they missed. Their luck had ran out.

The missiles impacted five of the Sanjari ships, destroying a frigate and two destroyers while leaving another frigate and destroyer crippled beyond any hope of repair. Another wave of missiles fired off, looking for more targets. They found their marks as well. After the second attack, the Sanjaris changed direction, and those vessels that weren’t sinking or crippled steamed for Tangaliran waters.

The Rear Admiral gave a message out to the fleet, though ensuring he was broadcasting at a frequency that the Sanjari Fleet’s remnants could hear them.

/// [ACAFOR] - [NNA Iulcanu (C-126)] - [R. Adm. Alexandru Butacu] /// - “Today the Acasian navy has achieved a victory that will go down in the history books for all of time! Sailors, pilots, you have done your country proud! Onwards to Sanjar!”

by **Valefontaine** » Sat Dec 29, 2018 10:37 pm

Surprise

Sanjari Waters, 140km west of Basratah

21 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

Word had swiftly reached the Euphemians that the Sanjaris were conducting an advance on all fronts. It was Harsu's desperate solution to the Qariki question — but would it work?

The Euphemian military had quickly presented a means of surprising and trapping the Sanjari military. The 12th Marine Division was to conduct an amphibious invasion of Basratah, while the 3rd Marine Division was to land in Rumadiya. VFA-125, along with the rest of CVW-6, was to aid in the invasion.

A group of six B-64H Palisades pertaining to the 18th Bomb Wing were to be escorted by VFA-125. The bombers in question were given the task of eradicating the rather extensive port facilities in Basratah, to forever shatter the Sanjari Empire's dreams of holding naval capacity in the Atlantic. There was also Fort Niiqquulamuusu, which housed the command and logistics infrastructure of several divisions in the region, and had a typical population of about fifty-thousand, comprising soldiers and their families.

Elements of the FSS Alexandria Battlegroup were also lending support in the operation, cruise missiles largely having softened the local Sanjari military elements. The AWACS aircraft 13th Air Control Wing's 1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron were ever vigilant above, spotting out targets for the Euphemian forces.

Billy's F-13D Hexmaiden pushed on through the skies, flying alongside the rest of VFA-125. Just ahead of them were the six B-64H bombers they were to escort, to which the twenty-two aircraft of VFA-125 soon caught up and flew in a sparse diamond formation, about one-hundred and fifty meters apart from one another.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Blackstar to all forces. Eliminate all ground and aerial threats."

"I doubt we'll be running into aerial threats." Marie began. "Word is, their air assets are busy in central and eastern Sanjar. The Acasians have seemingly intervened against Harsu."

"Perhaps the NCA isn't as closely knit as we thought, huh?" Billy chuckled to himself. "Hopefully this landing at Basratah will be the end of their attacks on Qarik."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "Got visual on some AAA situated outside of Basratah. Be advised."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "A little heat never scared me. VFA-125, you're cleared to move ahead."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Will do."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "Let's put those Sanjaris on the run!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "Show no mercy!"

"You know," Marie twirled her hair, thinking aloud. "This entire Sanjari offensive seems poorly thought out. Perhaps it has to do with the purges allegedly going on in the Sanjari government — or maybe it's due to Acasia getting involved. Either way, the Sanjaris are in for a surprise."

She nonchalantly fired away an AGM-77 Viper, which soared off into the afternoon sky. A few moments later, Billy saw the effect. On the thermal screen, he watched the Sanjaris, aiming into the skies above — then an explosion erupted upon the anti-aircraft gun, one of the crewmen's bodies sent flying offscreen, like a ragdoll. It was a dark reminder that they weren't fighting simple targets, rather they were killing people who had lives, families, aspirations and dreams.

They'd do the same to us if they could. Billy thought, proceeding as normal.

His WSO fired off another missile, which quickly found another static anti-aircraft gun. Even if SEAD had destroyed most of the Sanjaris' more formidable anti-aircraft systems, static emplacements still existed, and were widely used by the Sanjari military, and they could shoot down Euphemian aircraft if caution wasn't exercised.

VFA-125 approached the coastline, Basratah coming into view. Already, amphibious vehicles from the FSMC had touched down, with blotches of smoke along Basratah's shore. They were far off from the target site of the bombardment, and for good reason.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "Dropping bombs."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #137212] - [Col. M. Crue] /// - "We'll reduce the docks to rubble, then!"

The six B-64H aircraft opened up their bomb bays, dropping a limited cluster upon the docks.

/// [SJRFOR] - [14th Internal Security Company] - [Unknown] /// - "Evacuate all staff from the drydock! They're coming straight for us! By the Moon—"

The dock was lit up in a series of explosions, reducing the concrete piers, drydocks and adjacent industrial structures to smoldering ruin.

/// [SJRFOR] - [Northern Region Internal Security Command, Fort Niiqquulamuusu] - [Unknown] /// - "What's going on there? Hello?"

As they flew past the city, the bombers began on a southeastern course, and Billy could soon see it — in the distance, there was a vast system of roads, buildings, and other facilities — unmistakeably the fort they'd been tasked with bombing.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Fort Niiqquulamuusu. Quite a mouthful, eh? Commence the bombing."

/// [SJRFOR] - [VII Corps HQ, Fort Niiqquulamuusu] - [Unknown] /// - "Incoming Euphemian aircraft. Anti-aircraft, be at the ready."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "Ground targets trying to get a lock on us."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "But we took out their radar."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "MANPADS?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "Correct. Deploy countermeasures."

A fireworks show would be the most accurate way to describe it, as flares and chaff sprinkled outward from the Hexmaidens, the fighters conducting maneuvers to evade the coming missiles. One missile did hit, however — and a flame sprouted from the side of one of the B-64s.

/// [SJRFOR] - [1st "Eshtar" Royal Infantry Division] - [Unknown] /// - "Didn't do shit!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "How interesting! Commence dropping bombs."

They were approaching the base now, and in a moment's notice the surface had been illuminated in orange and red fireballs, explosions dotting the surface of what'd once been the home to two Sanjari divisions and an integral logistics and command center for many more.

/// [SJRFOR] - [VII Corps HQ, Fort Niiqquulamuusu] - [Unknown] /// - "Send the order to evacuate undergrou—"

The carpet bombing persisted, the B-64s releasing all that remained of their payload upon the 180 square-foot area that comprised Fort Niiqquulamuusu.

/// [SJRFOR] - [1st "Eshtar" Royal Infantry Division] - [Unknown] /// - "We've evacuated to the Royal Army Medical Center. All units, if you are still—"

The last of the bombs finished dropping, leaving only a smoldering, ruined military complex in their wake. As the carpet bombing dissipated, the bombers turned, making a westbound course.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "Thanks for the escort."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "Our pleasure."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "All squadrons, mission complete. Return to the FSS Alexandria for debrief."

"Hold on, I've got something on the radar." Billy looked to his WSO, confused.

"Something?" Marie asked.

On the RWR, it was positively identified — a single ASF-389 Kalat, speeding towards the group.

"Incoming Kalat!" As the aircraft passed them by, Billy abruptly brought his F-13D to tail the aircraft.

/// [SJRFOR] - [ASF-389 'KALAT'] - [Unknown] /// - "You killed my brother! This is what you get, you bastards!"

Attempting to strafe one of the B-64Hs, the aircraft fired away at the Euphemian bomber. Its attack was short-lived, however, as Billy's Hexmaiden dipped. Pressing down upon one of the buttons situated on the control stick, Billy fired away the Hexmaiden's 20mm cannons, which tore through the Kalat's wings like wet paper. As the fuselage came undone, jet fuel ignited, the aircraft descending like a grim fireball towards the earthly abyss below.

Soaring past the bomber, Billy looked down to the flight instruments, his hands trembling. He'd been aware of it from the beginning, but it weighed on him now more than ever. What was their mission in this war, their goal? To defend Qarik? Just how many men would Harsu condemn to their deaths?

Surprise

Etoile Marin

21 January, A.C. 391

The Aedifex

Fairwinds Tourism Company was among the larger tourist companies in Etoile Marin, handling tourist flights and boat tours across greater Marinesia. It had caught Aedifex's eye — and would be the first company he'd buy. The company was a legitimate one, and would therefore serve as a good veil of plausible deniability for what the Aedifex intended to create in Etoile Marin.

In a matter of days, the Aedifex had used a mixture of wealth, power and sheer force to pressure shareholders and sponsors to concede their holdings in the company. This made the Aedifex the largest shareholder in Fairwinds — it was easy, after all, given it was merely a midsize tour company.

Sitting now, across from the company's CEO, in his office, Aedifex smirked at the man's obvious frustration. He'd been called to the office the moment his share in the company had surpassed 60% — and by the time he'd arrived, he had 94%.

"Just who the hell are you?" The man spoke with a mix of rage and fear in his voice. Of course, for him, everything was on the line here. That mixed response wasn't uncommon, rather, it was one he saw frequently.

"You can take fifty million federal dollars and hand me control of the company — it's more than your company's worth — or I could, well..." Aedifex chuckled. "You know just how many things I can do with these shares?"

The reality of the situation had perhaps dawned on the man, and the Aedifex watched his arm go under the desk. "I know you've got a pistol beneath that desk. You can shoot me, but it would do you no good. You know that well."

Rapid movement of the eyes, unstable breathing. The man knew well he had no choice. Exhaling, he raised his hand from under the desk, setting them on the table. They still shook, however, as Aedifex set the briefcase on the desk.

Opening the case, he revealed to the man the money stowed inside — it was filled to the brim with $1000 notes.

Sweat trickled down the man's forehead. "...it's a deal."

It seemed a simple enough deal, but in that room the groundwork for not just an empire, but the beginning of a butterfly effect that would have unforeseen consequences.

How Far to Paradise?

FSS Alexandria (CVN-115)

21 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

By the time of the sun's setting, the FSS Alexandria had pulled back, finding port in Masais Harbor, in Etoile Marin. They'd be here for at least a week, from what'd been said. The port side of the vessel gave a view of Etoile Marin's hills and mountains, just beyond Masais itself, and the sun setting in the west.

Upon one of the many walkways, Billy watched the sun, smoking a cigarette as he stood beside his WSO. Sights like these were rare — it was best he'd enjoy the moment while he could.

"Don't you ever feel... like you're too far from home?" Marie leaned over, snapping a picture of the sunset with her Solaroid™ camera.

"I sure do, man." Billy replied. "I hope this war ends soon. That last mission... you felt it too, didn't you? Just how many more are going to die?"

"It's war. It isn't always fair." Marie replied, her gaze set on the setting sun. Finally, she spoke further. "..I felt wrong, too."

"Maybe I am too far from home." Billy shook his head, looking down to the water below, still lit by slivers of orange light.

"Lighten up. Why don't we explore Masais?" The proposal was indeed an enticing one. Billy had never been to Etoile Marin, and perhaps it was time to live a little.

Twenty minutes later, and they were on the streets of Masais. The nightlife of the town was bustling with crewmen from the Alexandria, the thoroughfare busier than ever.

Walking down the street, Billy briefly glanced at his reflection upon the glass display of one of Masais' many shops. He hadn't gotten his uniform totally disheveled, which was more than most sailors could say.

"So, ma'am, you ever been to Etoile Marin before?" Billy asked, walking beside Marie. He had a glass bottle of White Stripe™^[1] beer in hand, from which he took the occasional sip.

"First time." Marie said. "Also, we're not on duty, Billy. Relax... just call me by my name." They passed a town square, which was complemented by a building with architecture bearing semblance to the past century. The square seemed to be the epicenter of activity, busy with sailors and local nightgoers of the town drinking and socializing.

"Marie? Marie Felix!" A voice called out. It was an officer, judging by his uniform. His face was aged, the man seeming to be in his late 40s. As he came closer, it was clear his uniform was Air Force. "Major Laurence Stewart," He introduced himself. "You must be the one who saved our asses."

"Actually, that would be the work of my pilot here." Marie gestured to Billy.

"William Reeves. That was a close call indeed." Taking another sip of beer, Billy couldn't help but be taken aback at how nonchalant the commander of a B-64H was. It'd shaken him to witness the bombing of Fort Niiqquulamuusu, and yet it didn't even seem to trouble the man.

"Me and the rest of the crew are at a bar. Drinks are on me." He offered.

Aeon

Altoria, Blume, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

21 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

A month prior, it would've been inconceivable to the Euphemian public that a multinational conglomerate, the Lexicon Corporation, would've had its hands in the criminal underbelly of Torch City. Things had changed since then. Golgotha had been shuttered by the Internal Security Bureau^[2], which culminated in the largest human trafficking and drug bust of the century. What the public didn't know of, however, was how deep the conspiracy went. Things like the 'Monad Group' hadn't been disclosed to the public, and it had become the primary subject of investigation.

Bianka was safe for now, returning to school at the International Academy with ISB protection. Pierce, on the other hand, had gotten no rest since the incident in Golgotha. There was a conspiracy at play, and it was no mere coincidence they had been out to kill Bianka. She was the daughter of what'd once been one of Tangaliro's most powerful political families — until they'd been purged.

Atop the roof of one of many unassuming stores on Love-Me Boulevard, Pierce stood by, idly watching the aboveground subway station at the intersection.

The trains would come and go, rail lines rattling as they passed. Eventually he could hear a series of footsteps behind him, to which he turned around.

"Marshal Hughes. I did not expect the Service would send you." Pierce said. Marshal Hughes was Pierce's senior in the Marshal Service by two years, an impeccable example of the ideal marshal. Like all Marshals, the service had aged and refined him, his dark features bearing the old, faded indents of scars that'd been.

"If they want two of us around, they've probably got an issue." Hughes stepped forward.

"Depends on what they found." Pierce replied, turning around to face his fellow marshal. "Victor Goettzcheld?"

"He and his business partners are arranging for a meeting in the Prism Building. Now, I know that you know Morhatten like the back of your hand." Hughes chuckled.

Pierce spoke immediately. "It overlooks the Atlantic Economic Center's construction site, where Erika MacReady was murdered."

Hughes nodded. "That's right. We can only assume the topic of discussion will be the Lexicon fiasco — and the girl that survived. The Monad Group was just the tip of the iceberg."

Aeon

Haqiqah, Empire of Sanjar

21 January, A.C. 391

Col. Augustus James H.B. Marlow
5th Special Operations Element
1st AB Order Division "Nightstalkers"
Presidential Order of Patriotism, Action Branch

Things had worsened since Marlow had arrived in Sanjar, with the situation in Haqiqah devolving into outright ethnic genocide — tribes loyal and opposed to the Sanjari government clashed in the streets, often with civilian collateral damage. The military was nowhere in sight, the last word was that the forces in Haqiqah were bound west for Qarik.

Marlow walked through the derelict, dusty corridors of what'd been an unfinished shopping mall, aiming about as he pressed forward. Opening the door to what would've been an employees-only sector of the facility, he trudged in — only to be startled as an armed man pointed a gun to him.

"Shit, man. The stories about you must be true, you're like a fuckin' ghost... Never heard you comin'..." He lowered his gun. "Lieutenant James Wolfe, Action Branch."

The man was certainly younger than Marlow, though he could tell, by his mannerisms they were alike. It took a certain kind of man to be in the Order, and it took a certain kind of Order member to be involved in the catalyzation of a drug epidemic in Sanjar.

"And the others?" Marlow asked. As if on cue, one of the doors in the hallway opened, another armed man lowering his rifle as he saw the two.

"This is Colonel Augustus Marlow." Wolfe said, gesturing to Marlow. "AB sent him to help us run ops."

"Corporal Elias Stone, sir." The man replied, saluting. He looked to be in his early 20s, and judging by his rank, he was nothing more than enforcer brawn to the group.

"No need for formalities. We're drug dealers and scoundrels, we ought to play the part." Marlow chuckled. "Is there anybody else?"

Emerging at the end of the corridor, a woman approached, her face obscured by a shemagh that served only to reveal her eyes.

"The ethnic cleansing has moved east," She began. "We have a window to get to the dealer — ah, is this the one command has spoken of?" She said, looking to Marlow. This one spoke with a heavy foreign accent, to which Marlow began guessing her nationality.

"Colonel Augustus Marlow, ma'am." He nodded.

"Mar-low." She quietly repeated. "Sergeant Narmun Shep-ptah, at your service."

An Akhmanari, Marlow thought. Interesting.

"Pleasure to meet you. This is everyone?" Marlow asked, looking back to Wolfe.

"That would be correct." Wolfe responded, nodding.

"Then let's be on our way." Marlow said.

Fleet Night

Masais, Etoile Marin

22 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

Above the FSS Alexandria, fireworks were going off — it had become almost a century's tradition for the locals to celebrate the arrival of Euphemian vessels, and so the fireworks show went on, illuminating the bay below with a bright variety of colors.

Billy watched the sight from atop a hill, below an old oak tree. He'd had a good amount to drink, and now his bottle lay empty beside him. It'd be a lie if he didn't admit he was a little buzzed.

"Never expected it to be this beautiful, actually." Marie looked on at the fireworks. They'd spent the past eight hours experiencing all the wild things Masais' nightlife had to offer, and now they sat atop the hill, the bright flashes of fireworks illuminating the night.

"I guess I'm pleasantly surprised, too." Billy said. "I regret nothing, man."

"Not even the Marinian girl you—" She was, of course, referring to the time he'd almost picked up a Marinian girl at one the bars. It would've worked, too, had Marie herself not intervened.

"Okay, maybe a little." Billy laughed. "I was less sober then, believe me."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that." She laughed. The display continued, colorful explosions lighting up the bay. A silence came upon the two as they watched the display, until Marie spoke up again. "Remember when I asked about being too far from home?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Billy asked.

"What do you have waiting for you back home?" Her tone seemingly lost its nonchalant, jovial nature.

"I dunno at this point... my old man and my sister, I guess. A few friends from high school." He replied, shrugging. "Why do you ask?"

"I see.." She quietly answered, looking away. "I don't really have anything back home for me. My parents, they... passed away when I was a kid." Removing her jacket, she revealed the series of old scars that ran along her arms. Raising her tank top made visible more injuries that ran along her back. "I was just a kid when it happened. The Solstice Day Attacks^[3]..." Marie seemed almost distant as she'd thought back to what'd happened all those years ago.

Perhaps that's why she joined the military. Billy thought. Seeing his superior in an emotionally vulnerable state made him think of various things he'd typically say, including 'I'm sorry about that', and 'Well, that sucks'. The smarter side of him won, however.

"We've all got scars, physical and emotional. They're more than flesh wounds, y'know. They're memories that we'll carry with us for the rest of our lives." It'd probably been the smartest thing he'd said in the past six months that he could remember, or maybe he sounded incredibly stupid, and was too dense to realize it.

Knowing now that he had to go on, he unbuttoned his uniform, removing his shirt to reveal the burns that ran along the right side of his torso. "387. Routine air patrol. F-14A Hexmaiden lost control over Kennedy Island... my engine went up in flames, ejection malfunctioned. My WSO gave his life trying to save mine. I almost lost my wings over that one. The commission found it to be a malfunction." It was the truth, but it wasn't something he particularly took pride in telling.

"I'm sorry." She replied. "I didn't intend to bring up those memories."

"No, actually. I gotta thank you — for showing that we've got a lot more in common besides flying the same aircraft."

Butterfly Effect

Arslan, Empire of Sanjar

22 January, A.C. 391

Harsu I iv Sanjar
Imperial House of Sanjar
Sanjar Empire

As the sun rose in the eastern horizon, pillars of smoke could be seen in Arslan's outskirts, directly within sight of the Imperial Palace's grand windows. Half of the western forces, which Harsu had called back to central Sanjar to assist in quelling dissent, had largely dissolved. Many of the units in question were largely populated by tribals, many of whom vehemently despised one another. The 'Red Letter Day' Broadcast was no mere anomaly — it was an order that had triggered something tantamount to a genocidal war between the various tribes under the Sanjari yoke.

"You seem awfully calm about the fact that those..." Astoreth stopped herself from calling the tribal units 'savages', for Harsu was vehemently against any notion that the Sanjari people were superior to the tribes they had subjugated. The Emperor was tolerant of all races, creeds and religions, and any 'racism' would be met with swift rebuttal from him. "...tribals, are laying siege to Arslan."

"Well, it is simple." Harsu smirked. He was significantly calmer now that the lives of his cousins were not at stake. "The Sanjari people will see the atrocities firsthand, and it will call them to action."

"And what of the FSE landings in Basratah and Rumadiya, your Highness? The remainder of our forces advancing on Qarik have lost almost all chain of command." Karduk stood beside Astoreth.

"Whether we succeed in Qarik or not, that matters little. We have killed much of their royal family. It will take years for Qarik to recover. Are you familiar with the 'butterfly effect'?"

"Of course, sir. The notion that a minor event will inevitably lead to a series of interconnected events of increasing magnitude. They taught us that while we attended the University of Arslan." Astoreth replied.

"Indeed." Harsu nodded. "The chaos we've created in Qarik has brought the Exiles out of the shadows, and the traitors out of the woodwork. Soon, Anya will return to Sanjar, and I will make an example of her treachery — through forgiveness. By ending this division in the royal family, purging the traitors and consolidating power over the country, we will make Sanjar stronger than ever." He chuckled, looking on at the smoke billowing in the distance. "They are going to die. The moment they entered the capital, an old plan was enacted to bring about their encirclement. The royal guard forces of the capital will dispatch of them with ease." From his throne, he paused, looking to the family portrait across the grand chamber. "There will come a time where Sanjar will no longer rely on the aid of other nations. Where a powerful, independent Sanjar will rise above. But that time is not yet now, and we can only get closer to this dream through purifying our ranks."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - White Stripe™ - White Stripe™ is a brand of Euphemian pale lager bottled in Atwater, Augusta by White Stripe Beverage Corporation, Ltd. While it is frequently used in 'piss water' jokes, White Stripe™ is the cheapest, most widespread and most popular alcoholic beverage in the Federal States of Euphemie.

2 - Internal Security Bureau - The Internal Security Bureau is the domestic intelligence and national security force of the Federal States government, and acts as the primary federal law enforcement agency.

3 - Solstice Day Attacks - The Solstice Day Attacks were a series of five coordinated terrorist attacks conducted by the Organization against the Federal States of Euphemie at 8:46 AM on June 23, 379. In total, 168 people were killed; 43 of them being killed in the Nakahara Tower in Los Serafines, largely due to asphyxiation from the billowing smoke from the basement-level source of the detonation. The terrorist attack revealed several flaws in Euphemie's counterterrorism methods, and began federal investigation of the Militia Movement and the shadowy spearhead behind it, the Organization.

by **Tangaliro** » Wed Jan 02, 2019 1:49 am

The Eastern Fleet

Tangaliroan water, south of NB Isla Serpiente, State of Zaratia, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

21 January, A.C. 391

R. Adm. Winston G. Herring
TUS Barba Blanca (CG-8)
Tangaliroan National Navy
Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

"Isla Serpiente is an island lying outside of western Zaratia. Its name originates from an ancient myth that a giant serpent once resided in a cave on the island. Nowadays, the island mainly serves as a naval base of the Tangaliroan Southern Fleet in the region, providing shelter for the patrol fleets conducting security patrol in southeastern Tangaliroan maritime territory."

—WorldWideWiki, Isla Serpiente

It had been around a day following the Acasians’ initial strike against the Sanjari Eastern Fleet. Since receiving the report from their Acasian counterpart that the Sanjari fleet has been heading their way, Herring and his colleagues of the Union Southern Fleet stationed within the region had been ordered to patrol the waters with high alert. The Union held no intention of causing more damage for the defeated fleet, but just like Herring, the people in the Department of National Defense held question on whether the Sanjari sailors would take them kindly right after being crushed by another NCA member. Herring’s fleet were only ordered to spot and escort the Sanjari fleet into a safe harbour as long as they comply. If the Sanjari fleet opened fire first, however, they would have no choice but to send their poor Sanjari counterparts into Van D. Holmes’ undersea dungeon[1].

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “How is the situation at your side, Victory?”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Victory(DDG-32)] - [Cmd. Ma Dashan] /// - “Nothing new here.”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “How about your squadron, Aguila?”

/// [TANFOR] - [23rd ‘Águila’ Naval Aviation Squadron] - [Lt. Louis R. Berger] /// - “No discovery so far, sir.”

Herring put down the radio speaker. For a fleet fleeing away from their pursuer, the Sanjari fleet has been a pretty slow one. Just as he prepared to spend another hour waiting, however, the radio crackled to life.

/// [TANFOR] - [23rd ‘Águila’ Naval Aviation Squadron] - [Lt. Louis R. Berger] /// - “Actually, sir, we found them. The Ascies must have got them good, I must say.”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm.. Winston G. Herring] /// - “Report their coordinates and return to airbase for refuel, we will handle this from now on.”

/// [TANFOR] - [23rd ‘Águila’ Naval Aviation Squadron] - [Lt. Louis R. Berger] /// - “Affirmative, their grid coordinate is around A6, just as the fleet command expected. Evac ordered.”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “All stations, slowly approach grid zone A6, do not open fire without my order.”

As the Tangaliroan fleet drew closer, the shape of the Sanjari fleet rose from the horizon. Louis was right, it was indeed much smaller than it was previously recorded to be.

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “This is captain Winston Herring of the Tangaliroan National Navy Southern Fleet. You are now inside Tangaliroan maritime territory. Please state your identity.”

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Halet (FFG-13)] - [Unknown] /// - “We are the Sanjari Eastern Fleet, what remains of it at least. Thank the Moon, you didn't fire at us!”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “We have been reported about the battle. I'm sorry that we could not stop them from doing what they want, but it was the collective decision of the NCA. You are now in our water, no one will sink anything here without my permission. In another word, you are now safe.”

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Halet (FFG-13)] - [Unknown] /// - “Thank you, Tangaliroans, the Empire will not forget this.”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “Now, follow us, and we will lead you to the nearest harbour for resupply and reparation. In exchange, we would like your cooperation in answering a few questions regarding what people refer as the ‘Red Letter Day’. You have the right to refuse, however, should these questions infringe upon confidential information within the Empire. Our decision to shelter your fleet and its crew will remain unaffected regardless of your choice. This is a direct guarantee from the Union Council, you can count on it.”

/// [SJRFOR] - [ISN Halet (FFG-13)] - [Unknown] /// - “We owe you a big one on this. If there are anything that we know of and can answer, we will not refuse, but we cannot guarantee that we can answer much about it. The situation was chaotic enough even for us.”

/// [TANFOR] - [TUS Barba Blanca(CG-6)] - [R. Adm. Winston G. Herring] /// - “I see. Thank you for your cooperation. All stations, adjust formation, we are returning to port!”

Back to Action

NB Arthur, Victory Bay, Lowland Region, State of Victoria, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

21 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. Karl W. Ehrenreich
1st Airborne Special Operation "Nachthexe" Platoon, 1C-4B-228ACR
28th Marine "Hundred Thousand Years to the Sacred Union" Division

Due to the rapidly deteriorating situation in Sanjar, Karl and his comrades were recalled from their holiday. There had been no further order since then, but everyone in Naval Base Arthur had been on high alert, knowing that war could approach at any time.

News about the escalation of the Qariki War, the ‘Red Letter Day’, and soon the outbreak of tribal genocides in western Sanjar kept coming in through the screens of televisions and the headlines of newspapers over the past seven days. There was one day of exception, however, when the discovery of the massive underground city of Golgotha instead took the headline of news medias. Karl was not at all interested about the largest human trafficking and drug bust of this century, especially when it happened on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Whats mattered to him more was the ensuing crisis in Sanjar.

With the development of the situation in Harsu's Empire, it was apparent enough that their deployment into the country would only be a matter of time. Who would become their enemy did not matter, the Sacred Union State would not tolerate the order of this region to just fall apart before their eyes, let alone when a genocide was going on in the middle of it. One way or another, the Union would enter a war over Sanjar. They were lucky enough to have the support of NCA, but every day, things are still becoming more complicated for the Union. The SSL-NCA conference in Etoile Marin remained inconclusive, and Acasia's disagreement with the rest of the Union didn't help either.

This is going to be some tough shit. Karl thought to himself.

“Sergeant?” Someone tapped his shoulder.

“Yes, private?” Karl turned back. The man before him was Private Van A. Wolfgang, his subordinate in the team.

“Nothing, I was just a little worried. You were seeming to fall deep into thought a lot lately. I mean...more frequent than usual.” Wolfgang said.

“Ah, don't worry about me, I was just...thinking about things.”

“If theres anything troubling you, do not hesitate to share it with me or anyone else here. Even Captain Cervantes works. We are a team, and we are supposed to help out each other when any of us are in trouble.”

“Thank you, Wolfgang, but it really is not that much of a problem. Well...” Karl gestured for the other two members of the bunk room to come over. “If you insist, I do have something that I would like to tell you all.”

“Then spit it out, boss.” Gaume, the Gallian team machine gunner, set up his folding stool and sat down in front of the two. “I'm all ears.”

Ma Jin, the other member of the team, simply sat down with his stool and said nothing.

“Very well.” Karl cleared his throat. “So, we all know what is going on in Sanjar. At this rate, our deployment is just a matter of time. I want to tell you that, while this is not our first time on the field, the upcoming deployment in Sanjar will be nothing on the same level to our past deployments. Remember everything you have learnt in the training and our past operations, because you are gonna need them all. The battles ahead of us will be tough, but I want you, all of you, to come back here alive, alright?”

The Meeting

Nouvelle Lunes, Etoile Marin

23 January, A.C. 391

Weaver

Weaver carefully approached a boat parked next to a pier in the harbour. Not a long time ago, she was still on her usual and by far fruitless search for the person that she has been looking for for the past four years. Originally, Weaver did not expect anything different today, however, an unwarranted broadcast just a few minutes ago soon changed her mind.

Looking at the ship before her, she could recognise that it belonged to a local tourist company that just recently went through a drastic shift of ownership, something she read from the local news. She did not pay much attention to the news initially, but it seemed it was going to get more relevant to her search from now on.

Could it be her? Weaver thought. She could clearly see that the broadcast was done intending to lure a fellow archonic speaker out, but in order to achieve her goal, she had to take the risk.

Stepping forward, she soon noticed a man standing by the ship. In the eyes of other people, he might have just been another bystander, but Weaver could sense that the man standing before her was no mortal being. He wore a plain purple Macrosse™ polo shirt, black Tucci™ slacks going down to his equally expensive shoes. Taste like this was unmistakeably the Aedifex's.

"It's certainly been awhile, hasn't it?" He spoke, looking across to Weaver. "You weren't the one I'd expected, but I suppose it's about time we had a chat."

“Indeed. How many years have it been since we last met?” Weaver counted. “If I’m correct, at least 300 years. We can certainly use a chat after this long time. Besides, if you are looking for someone here, I suppose we may be looking for the same person. An exchange of information won’t hurt for us both.”

"Tch. Echani, Reprobi, it hardly matters these days." From his spot at the pier, standing before the boat — which would typically serve the purpose of ferrying tourists around the island — he climbed aboard, gesturing Weaver to come with him.

“Very well.” Weaver nodded, then followed the man onto the ship.

Setting the ferry free from the pier, Aedifex started the boat's engine, and soon Nouvelle Lunes had quickly become a distant sight. As it became apparent they were distant enough from whatever prying eyes could be lurking about, he brought the boat to a halt, the waves gently slapping against the vessel. To their east, Etoile Marin in all its glory. To their west, ocean as far as the eye could see.

"Fate is strange, isn't it? All these events converging, bringing us out of the woodwork, almost 400 years after the Fall." He chuckled. "How's, uh, Fectum doing?"

He was clearly at ease around the Angel, knowing she couldn't kill him — even if she tried.

“The old man’s been doing well. The death of Eden had put him in deep agony, but he recovered quickly. We have been staying in Tangaliro since the Fall. Life’s been simple, but it had been fun.”

"Tangaliro, huh?" He looked to the ocean, before taking a pack of cigarettes from one of the onboard compartments and having a smoke. Exhaling a puff away into the sea, he continued. "Funny you mention Tangaliro, because a certain connection of mine found out Codex has been directly approving the shipments of some kind of fruit to the country, directed to some noble family. Pretty tight security, armored containers and all that." A sly grin creeped upon his face as he looked, almost as if knowingly, into Weaver's eyes. "You couldn't possibly... happen to know why that's the case?"

“Indeed, due to Lady Codex’s current position, the old man has placed me in the position of a messenger between us. But unfortunately, I have not been around her lately. So there is nothing that I can answer you about it. Allow me to guess, though, you are here for affairs connected to the shipment, aren’t you?”

"Of course," Aedifex dragged on the cigarette for a moment, before exhaling again. "And to screw around a bit in Etoile Marin. A bit of a paradise for a person like me, wouldn't you say?"

“Sounds just like what you would say and do. As for me, I’m just here in search of a lost kitty for Lady Codex, I think you know clearly who I am talking about.” Weaver grinned.

"Ah, so that is the other Angel on this island... honestly, I had no clue who was out there. I sent the message out to figure that myself." Aedifex explained. "What, does she know anything about this... thing I'm looking into?"

“I’m intrigued. If you don’t mind, please do tell me more about this… thing you are speaking of.”

"I think there's a lot more to these shipments going to Tangaliro, put simply. For it to mandate the Codex's direct approval would surely indicate something's up. Something that, perhaps, Fectum is leaving you in the dark about. This centuries-old dispute never was about good or evil — but we've got evil rooted on both sides. It's a festering, corrupting rot, eating away at our two groups. The Codex's activities in Ophir are disruptive enough to our secrecy, blatantly exposing our world to the rest of Humanity, even if in a veiled form. When everything went to shit and I ended up here on Tsion, my goal was never control, or to become an object of worship. It is, therefore, naturally within my nature to suspect the Codex's behavior." He discarded the cigarette into the water. "You yourself revealed it when you spoke — Fectum is in Tangaliro. Just what are the two Archons up to? Some South Ophiric backwater could be ignored, but we're talking about the second most powerful country on the planet. So again I ask, what is Codex sending to your master?"

“Like I said before, I hold no knowledge to what Lady Codex is sending to the old man. No matter what you do, the fact does not change. However...” Weaver remained smiling, unshaken by what he said. “I can tell you that, the person I’m searching for may hold some insight into that. She left Lady Codex years ago without a word, I would say it is safe for us to assume that she knows something that we don’t.”

"Galla?" Aedifex questioned, curious. "What might someone like her be doing on the island?"

“Neither do I know, but you have got the right guess.” Weaver nodded. “To be precise, Lady Codex was the one who requested for my help in finding her around five years ago. I believe that, however, she does not agree with Lady Codex’s actions, not that the old man did either, but he said it is not the time to right her mistake yet.”

"We're still finding out the extent of this 'mistake'... perhaps that speaks to the scale of it all." He'd started the boats engines again, setting east through the reefs and shallow-water sights along the shore, on approach to Nouvelle Lunes. "Perhaps you should question behind that 'order' Codex gave you. You and those like you ain't errand boys. You have free will. You should use it to the greatest of your potential."

The boat reached pier again, Aedifex gesturing her offboard. "I'll be seeing you in time," He vaguely spoke.

“Very well. It was nice to chat with you.” Weaver gently hopped off from the boat, then turned to face Aedifex again. “However, you mistook one thing. Lady Codex did not ‘order’ me to search for the kitty, I simply accepted her request by choice. Neither the old man or Lady Codex forced us to do anything, I simply trust Lady Codex that she held no malicious intentions against Galla behind her request. After all, we all know her personality.”

Weaver reached for her pocket, then tossed Aedifex a card. “I suppose we both would prefer not to find each other through a loud broadcast again next time, so heres my address. Fectum said we could trust Aedifex out of all Echanis, not that Echani and Reprobi mattered much to him, but it would be needless of me to elaborate on the others. I would not have revealed my whereabouts to you otherwise, but I believe in the old man’s judgement. If you meant hostility, you would have disposed of me on the boat.” She chuckled. “About that fruit you spoke of, I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know anything about it. We did not receive any message about a package from her prior to my departure. If the shipment you spoke of is true, the old man must have only learnt about it after I left. I will try inquire for the information we need about it, but that would be for the next time we meet. Until then, farewell. The old man asked me to send you his regards if I happen to meet you.”

She then waved goodbye and turned away, leaving Aedifex and the boat behind.

The Little Red Telephone

Sanctum Domini, Novus Concordia, State of Solara, Sacred Union State of Tangaliro

23 January, A.C. 391

Zhaosky

The little red telephone in the corner of the room rang. Zhaosky set her magazine aside, then picked up the phone.

“Who's calling?”

“It is me, Charlotte.” On the other side of the call was Weaver, Charlotte was the name of her mortal identity.

“How is the trip in Etoile Marin going?” Zhaosky asked.

“It is pretty good, the weather is nice, the scenery is perfect as well. By the way, I met Uncle Ed here today.”

“Uncle Ed? I see.” Uncle Ed was the designated pseudonym for the Aedifex among Fectum's angels, a mean to cover up the identity of the Archons. After all, no one knows if their calls were being monitored in secret. “What is he doing on the island?”

“Just to screw around a bit. Did we receive any package lately?”

“No, not that I know of, but Cordelia did inform us of an incoming gift from her on the day you left for Etoile Marin. It hasn't arrived yet, but it should be on the way.”

“Is it a tropical fruit?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Uncle Ed told me, he did some inquiry into it.”

“I see, anything else that you want to know?”

“Not really, send the old man my regards. It is fun, but a little lonely here.”

“Very well, I will tell him that.”

"I will call you again later, bye." Weaver hung up afterwards.

Zhaosky hung up the phone, then turned to the old man on the couch. “Fectum, Weaver called. She met Aedifex in Etoile Marin.”

“Hows he doing?” Fectum gently set aside his cup of tea, interested by the news.

“Weaver did not say much about it, but it seems he is doing some research on that package Codex is sending us.”

“Oh?” Fectum raised an eyebrow. “Interesting, I can bet that he disapproves Codex's acts, but what is he doing with a fruit of that fascinating tree of hers?”

“I don't know. Shall I go ask her in person?”

“If you wish, my dear.” Fectum took a sip of his tea. “No one is forcing you to do anything here. If you have something else important to do I can just go out there myself. It's been a while since I last met any other Archons in person, anyway.”

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Van D. Holmes undersea dungeon - Van D. Holmes undersea dungeon is an idiom for the bottom of the sea: the state of death among drowned sailors and shipwrecks. It is used as a euphemism for drowning or shipwrecks in which the sailors' and ships' remains are consigned to the bottom of the sea (to be sent to Van D. Holmes undersea dungeon). The idiom originated from the tales of Captain Van Delano Holmes of the Renaissance-era Victorian Navy, the discoverer of the Van D. Holmes Islands, which was named after him in memorial. The captain was rumored to have enslaved the native population to work in a secret deep dark underground dungeon on one of the islands shortly after his fleet's discovery of the island, to which he was later locked up inside by his crew and the natives after a successful mutiny against his tyranny. The island itself was said to have sunk undersea soon afterwards, forever drowning Van D. Holmes and his dungeon in the bottom of the sea, a punishment by god against his sins. However, the story's authenticity was questioned by many modern day historians, as the tale itself was initially spread by his crew members involved in the mutiny, which means that the tale of the undersea dungeon may have been a cover up story fabricated by the crew members to justify their mutiny against the captain to outsiders.

by **Valefontaine** » Wed Jan 02, 2019 10:19 pm

Element of Surprise

Sanjari Waters, 140km west of Basratah

24 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

They'd been in Masais for a few days now, with the war in Qarik seemingly at a standstill. This excess of idle time gave the members of VFA-125 effective free time on Masais while the FSS Alexandria (CVN-115) underwent routine checks and maintenance in port.

Billy and Marie were having their morning coffee at the Blancmange, a diner often frequented by Euphemian sailors. A thin veil of smoke filled the diner, illuminated in odd hues by the neon lights and tele-screens. The television was tuned to EBN, which was droning on about the situation in Qarik, background noise to the bar's chit-chat.

"The logistical situation of the Sanjari military continues to degrade as the Federal Marine Corps conducts an effective encirclement of the Sanjari Western Theatre Forces across the Great Qarik Desert. Reports of sporadic fighting near the capital of Arslan is believed to be the aftermath of an uprising. As marine regiments continue across Sanjar, they find emptied, burned husks of villages. It's believed the recent spree of defeats sustained by the Sanjari military has led to various ethnic groups clashing as Emperor Harsu's absolute authority over western Sanjar dissolves..."

"I've been thinkin', maybe we should visit Nouvelle Lunes. They've got all sorts of stuff there. Shops, tourist shit, movie theatres — hey, whaddaya know, we might see the Princess over there, too. I hear she's a real cutie! Who knows, maybe we'll even get to talk to her or somethin'!" Billy took a swig from the cup of coffee he had before him on the table, before setting it down again. "Apparently, she's single, too! So, y'know, if you swing that way..."

"Don't ask, don't tell, sergeant." Marie slyly quipped. "Yeah, I'd be down to go to the city. After all, I figure it's about time I treat myself to—"

Someone in the bar had caught her attention from across the room. The person looked around, seemingly confused.

"Looks like she's lookin' for somebody... must be from the Alexandria."

"Nah, either Naval Aviation or Air Force. She doesn't have the slight glow nuclear reactor types got." Marie joked. Her grin pursed into a straight expression as she squinted closer. "Hold on, shit. Think she's from our squadron." Perking her head up, as if to be noticed, Marie caught the girl's attention.

"Colonel!" She'd spotted Marie, hurrying over. The VFA-125 patch on her uniform was indicative enough that Marie's guess had been correct, and Billy vaguely remembered her to be one of the lower ranks. Her nametag, which read 'DEL RIO, ABIGAIL - AIRMAN' agreed with this as well, implying she was among the squadron's chaff, likely a pilot. "Your presence has been requested onboard the Alexandria. I... hope you have not been drinking."

"If coffee's a crime, then arrest me."

"Not a crime last I checked, no ma'am." Abigail returned an uneasy grin. "I— it's of immediate concern, ma'am."

"I've heard that many times before. What's the matter?"

She leaned in closer, nervously speaking in a hushed tone. "Just a few minutes ago, a missile launch was confirmed in Eshtar. The course of the missile is not known, but we're the closest group that can respond to this attack at the moment."

"Shit." She set her coffee mug down, leaving a $20 note and a $5 note on the counter. "We've got work ahead of us."

There was an anxiety in the cockpit, multiple flavors of tension between the two Euphemian aviators, one much more than the other. It was about 0800 local time, and they had little clue as to the trajectory of the missile, or what kind of warhead it carried. They'd been flying for about six minutes, having hurried and deployed almost immediately from the carrier. It'd often been suspected among the armchair generals of the Euphemian defense community that Sanjar, in the least, had the capacity to build nuclear weapons. Now wouldn't be a good time to find out.

"You humming 'Flight of the Einherjar'^[1] isn't helping, Billy."

"Just relax, Marie." Billy leaned backwards in his seat. He'd maintained his cool up to now, eyes set on the RWR. They were receiving information from the nearby E-901 Skyking, which was tracking the movement of the missile. It had flown over Basratah about a minute ago, and soon it'd enter range.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Missile is within range."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "VFA-88 is moving to destroy the launch sites. Maintain course and destroy the missile. Conserve ammunition — we don't know if there'll be more of them."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "How the hell did this one get past the CAPs? This shouldn't be our job!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Sgt. J. Mahan] /// - "My WSO is engaging the missile."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Lt. T. Thompson] /// - "Two ARGOs, off and away."

Watching the RWR as they continued east, Billy noted the missile's disappearance from the screen.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Lt. T. Thompson] /// - "Got 'em."

There was a sigh of relief among the aviators as the kill was confirmed.

"See? Relax." Billy glanced back to his WSO.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Multiple launches detected."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Moving to engage."

Descending slightly, the Hexmaiden continued on. The missiles, which could reach Etoile Marin in less than a half-hour judging by their speed, numbered six in total now.

"I hope we're getting a medal for this." Billy continued on an intercepting course with the missile. Their paths would soon cross, the ideal time to fire was quickly coming.

"Oh, we will. I'll make sure of it."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Unidentified squadron of aircraft, 300km northwest. Presumed to be Manaean Air Force."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Lt. T. Thompson] /// - "Got another. Whaddaya say we start keeping score, Colonel?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "I'd rather not."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "Got another."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Amn. A. del Rio] /// - "Something's locking onto us. Launching countermeasures."

A low series of chirps began on the RWR, indicating someone was locking onto Billy's Hexmaiden.

"Launching countermeasures." Marie instictively deployed the aircraft's countermeasures.

Billy could see, however, that something else was coming straight at them from the northeast. "Hold on, something's coming right at us—"

The cockpit was torn open as a 20mm round cut through the glass, and the damage quickly revealed itself — Billy himself would've probably been decapitated if he'd been leaning any further back. The sheer sound of the event had almost incapacitated him, leaving his vision dim and his ears ringing. Instinctively, he turned around.

The round had ripped to shreds the WSO's computers, and Marie appeared to be unconscious. He was, in effect, alone now, with a great task laid before him. It was only natural now, with nobody to prove himself to, that he could panic openly.

Thirteenth-generation Euphemian aircraft permitted the transfer of responsibilities to the pilot of the WSO was incapacitated or killed. Such would work to Billy's advantage in this case, as he hastily locked onto the enemy aircraft — revealed to be a Sanjari ASF-389 Kalat. There were twenty of them, and though he couldn't hear anything on the radio, he could see that one of their aircraft had been taken out. The weight of just who it'd been had an odd, troubling effect.

With the flip of a few switches and the use of a few dials, he'd brought the weapon systems of the Hexmaiden under his control. Locking onto four Kalats, he fired away the Hexmaiden's payload of long range air-to-air missiles at the approaching aircraft.

The one that'd strafed him wouldn't last long, the foolish move quickly serving to its disadvantage as the other aircraft of VFA-125 engaged it.

The three aircraft he'd engaged disappeared from the RWR, their destruction confirmed shortly thereafter. Yet his head still ached, his ears rung, and he was feeling the effects of the depressurization, even if he had his mask on.

Two LRBMs remained now, and Billy took chase while the rest of the squadron persisted in their dogfight against the Sanjari ambush. Setting off the afterburners, he tailed the missile. They were quickly heading west, the island of Etoile Marin appearing on the horizon.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Hexmaiden, what is your status?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "I'm going to engage the missile."

The missile began descending, and Billy followed with it. It seemed as if it were on course to the western side of Etoile Marin — in particular, the royal palace. It was then that the Sanjaris' intent became clear to Billy.

Finally, he'd aligned with the Sanjari ballistic missile, firing away at the fuselage of the rocket. 20mm rounds cut through the metal cladding, fuel tanks detonating and turning the missile into a fireball, which detonated just above the royal palace, Billy maneuvering the F-13D past the explosion and towards the second missile. It was a bit behind from the first, but was on a definite path towards the western side of the island.

It was then that Billy remembered the existence of the airport in Nouvelles Canes. With a swift S-turn, Billy felt everything slow down as his aircraft was inverted, the world just below him, no cockpit to shield him from 'death-by-faulty-seatbelt'. In that moment, he felt sheer terror, bringing his aircraft back to level as he sped towards the second missile. There would only be one opportunity to do this, and hundreds, if not thousands of lives weighed upon his decision.

The incident that'd killed his WSO before came back to his memory, and he felt only determination in that moment — not just for himself, but for everyone he'd be saving.

Emptying 20mm rounds into the missile, Billy exhaled in relief as it exploded, sending loose pieces of its fuselage down to the surface. With a final turn, he deployed the aircraft's landing gear, preparing to touch down on the Alexandria.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13 Hexmaiden | #204686] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "NACC, I'm performing an emergency landing."

There came no response, though Billy knew it was a matter of life and death. As he descended, he deployed the tailhook, feeling a sharp jolt as his F-13D touched down on the deck of the Alexandria. The landing gear buckled under the pressure, and Billy almost worried things were about to get worse — until the aircraft came to a steady halt at the center of the deck. Hands trembling, he removed his helmet, tossing it aside to check on his WSO as deck crews hurried over to the damaged aircraft. Climbing across the cockpit, he stood before her, anxious now more than ever.

He removed her helmet and respiratory mask. Her eyes were shut, head slumped to the side. Resting his hand on her neck, he felt it — a pulse. To confirm his relief even further, he noticed then the methodical rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

As if on cue, her eyes fluttered open, confused at what was transpiring around her. It seemed as though she were about to ask many questions, like 'what happened to the cockpit?' and 'why are you standing over me?', but she'd uttered the most simple of them all. "W— what happened?..." She asked, dazed.

"We're getting ourselves a medal, that's what."

Addendum

Arcadia, Turmenista, FSE

24 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. Sandra Riot Privatecaller J. Spence

It seemed as if it'd only been yesterday when Sandra had come dangerously close to death while she and the rest of her platoon had been captured by the Sanjaris, instead saved by the selfless sacrifice of their platoon's leader, Nox Fitzpatrick. Rather than submit to the will of the Sanjari Archprince Misharu, he'd sacrificed himself, giving just enough time to allow their rescue.

She and Michael, the sole survivors of the 1st section, had since returned to Arcadia. He'd returned to his family, and she'd returned to her simple, cramped apartment in the Stratotower.^[2]

In death, his story had not yet ended, however. He'd demanded, at some point before his death, that his most important notes and belongings be given to his second-in-command should he pass away.

Well, if you're reading this, I've met my end somehow. I, of course, don't know how that came about, but here we are. You've probably got my locket as well. Keep it, it'll give you nothing but luck. Anyway, you've got a lot of shit to discover, though I doubt you care.

Whole reason I got myself killed in that lousy shitshow is because I lost a bet. The man was unlike anyone I'd seen before, and he played Poker like a master. I'm the best Poker player I know, and I couldn't even compare to him. Before I set off for deployment. Hell, just from talking to me you probably figured I was ready to die. I was, and had been for a long time. I can explain why.

I came from a very long line of gamblers, adventurers and daredevils. The Fitzpatrick line has always been one that strove towards greatness, drawn towards the strange and bizarre. When my father, Clint Fitzpatrick, died, he entrusted his fortune to me — but only if I could find it. He left with me the tools and puzzles by which to locate the fortune. I want you to burn it, however. The Fitzpatricks die with me, and I cannot ask you to bear the weight of something that has nothing to do with you.

Good luck in this world. You may not know what to do — the war may have ended for you, but your time there has certainly changed you — but remain strong and persevere. You will find your purpose, whatever that may be, and you will find your greatness in life. Do not let your service in this war dictate what lay ahead of you.

I suppose this is farewell,
Nox

Confrontation

Prism Building, Morhatten, Torch City, FSE

24 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One-Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

The Prism Building had been encircled by police lines as soon as the involvement of various corporations in the Golgotha human trafficking had been revealed — a strategic decision by the Internal Security Bureau, conducted a mere hour in advance of the operation, ensuring all the targets were within the building at the time of its undertaking.

Pierce stood amid the lines of police officers and TCPD Special Security Unit^[3] members, watching the building intently.

"All units are in place, sir. Phone lines and electricity to the building have been cut, as well. They can't evade capture." One of the SSU officers remarked, his AR-M64A5 assault rifle pointed at the front entrance.

"What resistance are we expecting?" Pierce questioned.

"There are about 50 contractors affiliated with Typhon Defense Solutions in the building. There are 200 of us." The man replied, stopping to listen in on his radio. He raised his eyebrows, looking back to Pierce. "You've been cleared to begin the operation."

It seemed the other police units had received their orders, closing in on the front entrance.

"I didn't need clearance in the first place." Pierce said, walking off with one of the SSU teams.

"Shots were reported inside the building as well." Marshal Hughes was with another team, but they'd stopped as they reached the entrance. "We may have a situation on our hands."

"Big deal, we'll arrest them too." One of the officers joked.

Typical breaching routine was undertaken, the glass entrance shattering as the charges went off, shattering glass and casting smoke into the lobby, to which the group of twenty SSU officers and two federal marshals filed in, aiming about — only to find the remaining security in the lobby had surrendered at the mere sight of the men.

"Thank Fern, man!" One of the contractors exclaimed, shaking. "You think we'd get ourselves killed when all we do is run shitty lobby security? Nah, man! We aren't stupid. We aren't gonna DIE like the others did."

What others? Pierce thought.

"Apprehend them." Pierce ordered. "Me and Marshal Hughes will go ahead with our respective SSU teams."

"Understood, sir!" Came one of the replies from the men as the TDS security contractors were cuffed and apprehended. Pierce and Hughes continued up with eight other men, going ahead. The stairs would be their only way up, as the elevators had been rendered useless by the cutting of the power.

As they ascended the steps, Pierce paused as the building shook.

/// [TCPD] - [Special Security Unit] - [Sgt. M. Watson] /// - "There's been an explosion on the 34th floor. It seems to have started a fire as well."

/// [TCPD] - [Special Security Unit] - [Cpt. T. Hernandez] /// - "You have thirty minutes until we restore electricity to the building, so that the sprinklers may put out the fire. All units, begin a sweep, floor by floor."

"You heard the man." Pierce said. "We'll be just a bit ahead of the rest."

"BASTARD! YOU KILLED THEM ALL!" A yell came from up the stairs, which Pierce quickly found to be a security contractor cowering at the staircase's corner, gun in hand. Before he could shoot, he'd disarmed the man with a shot from his .50, which also blew clean off the rest of his hand. The bloodcurdling scream was followed by a repeated series of thumps as he fell down the stairs, hitting the intermediate landing with a crack.

"What was he on about?" Hughes asked, confused at the bloody mess down the steps.

"Perhaps he'd thought we'd killed everyone in the lobby. I wonder why he'd think that?" Pierce reached the 2nd floor entrance, stopping to ready his pistol.

"We're going in."

The second floor was completely unlike the first. It was an absolute bloodbath, the corpses of employees and security contractors splayed about in odd angles, some impaled with everyday objects from around the office space. The walls were riddled with bullet holes, some windows shattered by whatever had taken place.

"How the hell...?" Hughes knelt over, baffled at the sight of one of the dead bodies. Its head seemed to have been crushed, but by what? He looked on, baffled at the sight.

One of the men treaded forth through the aisle of cubicles, turning around to get the attention of the marshals. "Sir, there's a—"

BOOM

One of the SSU officers was sent flying as half his body was filled with small metal balls.

/// [TCPD] - [Special Security Unit] - [Lt. A. Smith] /// - "We've got a man down! They've set traps across the building!"

"I think to myself..." Pierce began. "If these traps were really laid for us."

Meanwhile

Nouvelle Lunes, Etoile Marin

24 January, A.C. 391

Aedifex

The Aedifex had slept through what'd apparently been a Sanjari attempt at a missile attack. It'd shaken up the locals well, but he simply couldn't find any room to care. He had a business to expand, of course.

Across from him were his 'lieutenants', the more competent and well-paid handlers of his tourism company whom he'd handpicked and assigned to various duties. Profits were performing steadily, if not better than they'd been under the previous employer. It was almost miraculous — the Aedifex had bought licensing from the island's government, redrawn and redefined the route map, and raised profits by an excellent margin for a mere three days.

"Gentlemen, it's a simple affair." He explained, pacing about the room. "Where other businessmen would panic at the thought of this island being endangered by the 'war' situation in Sanjar, I see great opportunity. The Colonel here," He gestured to one of his lieutenants. The man was exmilitary, and still had a good many connections in the Pyramid.^[4] "Knows a lot of people. With his expertise, we've secured the Fairwinds Tourism Company, now the Fairwinds Corporation, a civilian associate contract with the Federal Air Force. This'll mean a change of our routes, yes," He gestured to a map he'd pinned to the board, gesturing to Euphemian Marinesia, just south of Etoile Marin. "But it'll also mean a massive surge in profits. We'll be flying Euphemian military personnel, particularly officers, across the two islands."

The colonel had always been an underachiever in Fairwinds before Aedifex, under the name 'John Smith', came to assume control of the company. He had connections, he had many old friends, yet somehow nobody in the company recognized the man's potential. Aedifex did, though. He saw within the man the stepping stone by which he'd build his empire, to finance his investigations into the Codex.

There were still men among the table who feared the comparatively small company being bought out by the so-called 'Giants of the Midatlantic'. The Prism Corporation seemed to particularly prey on atlantic transport companies, assumedly to feed its massive logistics demand of ferrying about pharmaceuticals and biochemicals around and about in the atlantic.

Aedifex knew, though, that as of today they'd no longer be a threat. Gatekeeper had returned to Torch City, having served her purpose in investigating the shipments undertaken by the Codex... and she'd taken good care of the executives that would threaten the future of Aedifex's empire.

"And our tourism branch?" One of the men, an old hick from Augusta who was among the best boat drivers the Aedifex had in his employ, asked.

"Oh, it'll grow." Aedifex replied, chuckling. "For as of today, not only are we handling tours around the island, we'll also be handling tours across Marinesia. I bought out a small tour company in Huey last night and merged it under the Fairwinds Corporation, and by now they'll be ready to commence routes from Nouvelles Lunes and Nouvelles Cannes to Huey. From there, I'm expecting a steady rise in profit."

What the Aedifex hadn't spoken of, however, was that he was investigating the kingpin of the island — Édouard L'Magnifique. Through handling certain boat rides himself, he'd gotten to know a certain politician in the Noble Congress who was part of a bloc called the 'Blue Cloaks', whatever that meant. The two had talked for quite awhile on the subject of crime on the island — and the Aedifex's proposition had enamoured the man with the idea of a draconian law that would empower the police legally. Little did the man know, however, that Aedifex had used his silver tongue to target only the industries that Édouard L'Magnifique was involved with, particularly prostitution and illicit pharma. It would cut the kingpin down from his pedestal, and bring him low enough for the Aedifex to strike him and usurp his stake in the drug trade, thus entering the criminal underbelly himself. With his aircraft and boats being used to ferry product around, he would be able to elude authorities for long enough to turn a sizeable profit.

Confrontation

Prism Building, Morhatten, Torch City, FSE

24 January, A.C. 391

Marshal Nathaniel CCC No-One-Lives-Forever K. Pierce
Federal States Marshal Service

The 34th floor was where the meeting was believed to be taking place — yet all along the way, the two federal marshals saw nothing but bloodshed and the gory remains of what'd been the building's security detail.

It was noticeably warmer as they carefully patrolled the 30th floor, the flames having spread to multiple parts of the floor. Pierce seemed unfased as he moved about the office space, gun drawn. Hughes and his team had gone in the other direction, specifically the conference room itself.

"Who the hell would do this?" One of the SSU officers looked at the scene, the hardly-recognizable remains of a man splayed across one of the walls in the corridor. He'd been, in the literal sense, beaten to a pulp.

/// [FSMS] - [1st Marshal Group] - [Marshal Hughes] /// - "We've got one of 'em alive in the electrics room. He's with Lexicon."

Garbled static ensued.

/// [FSMS] - [1st Marshal Group] - [Marshal Hughes] /// - "Brian Timmer, you are under arrest under charges of racketeering, human trafficking and conspiracy."

/// [Unknown] - [Unknown] /// - "Please! Get me out of this hell!"

/// [FSMS] - [1st Marshal Group] - [Marshal Hughes] /// - "Oh, we will. Save your sweet-talk for the judges. You'll be on national television soon—"

Pierce heard it, both on the radio and nearby — a loud, clamorous crash.

/// [FSMS] - [1st Marshal Group] - [Marshal Pierce] /// - "What on Tsion is going on over there?"

/// [FSMS] - [1st Marshal Group] - [Marshal Hughes] /// - "What the... ma'am, do not intervene, or we'll be forced to—"

/// [Unknown] - [Unknown] /// - "Oh GOD! She's here!"

The radio cut to static again as gunshots echoed across the 34th floor. Without second thought, Pierce scrambled for the source of the noise, pistol at the ready. Getting across the ravaged floor had taken at least thirty seconds, and by the time he'd reached the otherwise unassuming electrics room, he found Hughes and four SSU agents, stunned on the floor. The executive affiliated with Lexicon had been practically beheaded, or rather, his head had been seemingly crushed.

Hearing footsteps, he sharply turned around — seeing a figure charge past him, tearing open the doors to the elevator shaft and leaping down. He certainly hadn't witnessed speed and agility like that before.

As the other SSU officers arrived, Pierce looked on at the elevator in confusion.

"Sir?" One of the men asked.

"Order them to restore power to the building. There's nobody that could've escaped this." Pierce was lying, of course. Whatever he'd witnessed could've easily slaughtered the Marshal and the SSU officers, but had chosen not to.

Heroes

Masais, Etoile Marin

24 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

Billy had spent a good hour in the medical ward of the FSS Alexandria, as it'd been believed he and his WSO had been injured during the daring operation, though he'd miraculously been unscathed by the whole event, aside from the massive adrenaline surge he'd experienced. Marie's helmet had been struck by a piece of shrapnel from one of the weapon computers as the 20mm round had struck the cockpit, which had induced the concussion that knocked her unconscious. Their F-13D Hexmaiden had endured a litany of damages, which would mean it'd be out of commission for a few weeks in the least, as it underwent repairs.

They'd received a series of medals for the success of the mission, the both of them each receiving six Air Medals, two Service Medicals of the Merited President's Blessing, and two Distinguished Flying Medals. Word was yet to be received from the Marinian government, but it was probable he'd receive at least a few honors from the government officials he'd saved from obliteration.

The honors and celebrations was behind Billy now, though, as he'd resigned to his squadron's quarters. There was also a psychological weight, as it occurred to Billy that they'd also lost an aircraft to the ambush. Only one of the men had bailed in time — to which the proceedings for a funeral would soon take place for one of the fallen airmen. Lieutenant Travis Thompson had attempted in vain to deploy countermeasures while his pilot, Jacob Mahan, bailed out of the aircraft.

There was another pressing matter — that the Sanjari aircraft had managed to cross into Akhmanar and then Manae, thus giving them an opportunity to intercept VFA-125. That was all politics, though. Billy was just a pilot, and he simply did his job accordingly.

Sitting atop the same hill, beneath the same oak tree, Billy watched the bay glimmer with orange light as the sun set in the west. He could hear the sound of leaves crunching under rather light footsteps behind him, though he knew already who it'd be.

"You really saved my ass out there." Marie sat beside him, watching the bay.

"Just doin' the right thing." Billy nonchalantly answered. "Also, I'm sorry about—"

"It's fine." She replied. "There was no way we could've seen that coming. Needless to say, there'll be quite the political fallout from this incident." Of course, she needed not mention the timing of the attack — particularly being conducted in the absence of NCA delegates at the palace.

"Guess that means more work for us in the long run." Billy leaned back in the grass, looking up to the sky. Far above, an aircraft was flying above, creating a trail of condensation as it flew east.

"What do you wanna do after the war?" Marie asked, looking up with him.

"I don't even know at this point, man." He replied. "I really don't know what I'll do in life. People like us can go back home, but our spirit will always remain in the skies."

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you for awhile," Marie shyly added. "Am I just your Weapons Systems Officer, your superior... or are we friends?"

"What'd make you ask a question like that?" Billy sat up, curious. "Of course we're friends. I mean, we've pretty much been through hell and back, haven't we?"

"Ah... thank you." Her vague reply seemed only to confuse him. "So, how does shopping in Nouvelles Lunes tomorrow sound?"

Icy

Room 2323 - Building IA2, International Academy, Blume, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

26 January, A.C. 391

Dana Matthews

"Well if it ain't the last class of the day. Finally... I'm surprised I even got outta Algebra alive." Sam reclined in his chair, twirling his pencil in his hand. World History was the last class of the day, and perhaps the easiest, at least for the trio.

The words 'PICK A SEAT' were scrawled on the board in the teacher's absence, which the newer arrivals to the classroom were promptly adhering to.

Sophie was to her usual rants among the group, particularly encouraged now by the teacher's absence. "Y'know what grinds my gears? Uniforms. Like, what if I don't wanna conform? What if I want to flex with my $1,060 NakedApe™ jacket? Maybe, if we had uniforms that didn't look so last-century, I wouldn't be complaining here. Why would you conform when you can be yourself? Why—"

A distant boom echoed off in the distance. It was the sound of a Pan Ophiric World Airways Lo-188 supersonic airliner taking off. James Langdon Intercontinental Airport wasn't far from the International Academy, after all.

"You know, that Bianka girl..." Dana said under whispered breath, looking a few desks past the three. "Whatever happened to her... she's a bit different now."

"They've tightened security at the International Academy because of what happened after that Erika girl was killed. They say that Bianka girl..." Sophie began in a hushed tone. "They say she's from a very powerful family that got purged by the Tangaliroan government. Whoever killed Erika is after her too, they say..."

"Some kinda serial killer or somethin'? I hope they aren't going after me, too... I don't have any important family members, I just got good grades..." Sam shrugged.

"My apologies," The professor, a certain Howard Lemmor, strode into the classroom, wearing his everyday grey suit, red tie and equally grey pants. He was rather eccentric, even for a teacher at the academy, despite his unassuming mid-30s appearance. "Solstice break is over, folks. Settle down. Today, I'm feeling merciful. Gonna start light, since you're all... still in the vacation mindset." He grumbled. "Today, you'll be doing assignments in pairs—" His declaration elicited gasps and excitement from the classroom. "However, I will be picking your partners." It was typical of Mr. Lemmor to be such a killjoy. As he counted the pairs, Dana's hopes were brought down as she realized she wouldn't be paired with either of her two best friends.

"Dana Matthews, with Bianka Ziekowski." The professor called.

Moving desks quickly brought her to the side of the girl. Though the girl seemed to be receptive of her presence, there was an innate coldness about her eyes that scared Dana. Paired with the stories going around, she couldn't help but feel a bit afraid in the girl's presence.

"We really haven't talked much before, have we?" Dana laughed nervously.

"Not yet." Bianka replied, a light Tangaliroan accent in her words evoking an almost exotic, yet classful aura. Indeed, there was a coldness and a quiet nature about her, though there was something about the girl that seemed almost alluring.

"You're good at world history, I hope?" Dana herself wasn't the best, but she'd kept a consistent A- in the class.

"I try." She said, retrieving one of the assignments passed to the duo.

Dana took a moment to look at the paper, reading the questions. It was the usual random set of questions, intended to prepare students for the bi-weekly tests.

From which Mederune nation does the concept of Democracy originate?

Before she could answer, Bianka had already written it down — Tangaliro. Beside it, she had written Sinica, to further specify her answer.

"I thought it was Manae.." Dana nervously laughed to herself.

"Democracy in Tangaliro predates civilization in Manae by almost a century. But most westerners wrongly believe it originated in Manae. I'll let you answer the next question."

She's so assertive... I almost feel dumb in front of her. And—

She ignored her thoughts, looking to the next question. "Leader of Akhmanar? Nefertet Shamshet, I think? He has a funny hat, I think." She began writing the answer in pencil.

"Nefertet Shamshet of Kithum is his full title. The teacher will probably approve of us being specific." Bianka suggested.

Dana took the suggestion as much more than that, however. "Of course." She said, adding a 'of Kithum' to the end of her answer.

"Please, there is no need to patronize." She smiled, effortlessly answering the capital of Hwangyuk to be Hwangseo. "From what I hear, you are the daughter of Xandle's C-E-O, correct?"

"Y-Yes." Dana replied.

"I wish I was important like that. After what happened to my family, I am like nothing, you know?" She passed the paper over to Dana, offering her to answer.

The Second Pristian War... 200 to 241 AC? She thought, reading the question. As she began answering, Bianka corrected her.

"The 242 Axiom Accords ended all remaining hostilities, officially ratifying the end of the war. You were very close, however..."

"Right." Dana shook her head, erasing the '1' in 241 and replacing it with a '2'. She couldn't help but feel embarassed, looking stupid before someone who'd been trained practically since birth to excel in dealing with other people.

On what date was the Sovereign States Alliance founded? Dana thought, reading the question.

"August 4th, 291." Bianka noted. "I had been taught to remember that day well."

"Y-you can do the rest of the questions, I'm not really the brightest one around..." Dana grinned, nervous.

"You don't have to feel bad about it," Bianka continued answering the questions on the sheet. "After all, I hear you are into business and finance? That is your talent, isn't it?"

"I guess you could call it a talent." She nodded, watching her partner effortlessly get through the questions.

"If we're in this school, it's because we have a talent. Yourself included. Greatness awaits a person like you, less so a person like me."

The bell rang, indicating the end of school.

"Turn in the assignments as you exit the classroom." The teacher instructed, standing by the door.

"I'll turn it in for you," Bianka immediately suggested, taking initiative. "I look forward to getting to know you better."

Dana was taken aback by the girl. She'd seemed otherwise quiet and unassuming in class, but was absolutely dominant in person. Something about her utterly fascinated Dana, and yet—

"Ground control to Dana. What's up?" Sam stood beside Dana, holding her Tucci™ bookbag in his hands. "Let's get to the subway and have some fun in the city,^[5] before it starts getting crowded."

"Right." She replied.

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - 'Flight of the Einherjar' - Flight of the Einherjar refers to the beginning of act 4 of the musical drama Twilight of Tsion, composed by the great Teutonian composer Franz von Wagenberg. Due to its use in the war/psychological film 'Eve of Destruction', it has become a pop culture icon.

2 - Stratotower - The Stratotower is one of the oldest buildings in Arcadia, Turmenista, predating the War itself. It'd been a business center in its early years, but the crisis incurred by the war paired with the Stratotower's efficient, large design made it quickly become an oversized piece of project housing, with about 45,000 people living in the building as of 391 AC. The National Republicans, now in charge of Turmenista, intend to tear the building down and evict its impoverished inhabitants, though they are faced with opposition on almost every level of their effort.

3 - Special Security Unit - The Torch City Police Department Special Service Unit has over 5,000 personnel, making it the largest tactical/special police unit in the country. The SSU is largely tasked with higher level crimes, including mass shootings, terrorist attacks, hostage crises, and other threats that mandate significant attention.

4 - Pyramid - The Pyramid is the nexus of the Department of Defense, located in the heart of Serondequot. It is among the most secure places in the country.

5 - the city - 'the city' is a catch-all term to refer to Morhatten.

by **Oyuunchimeg Khanate** » Thu Jan 03, 2019 1:20 am

"I am the sword sent by God to punish the men who have sinned against him and
the chains that will bind his divided people into a single union of steel and strength."

Nuujin Khan

♪♪♪Listening Music♪♪♪

Khan's Meeting Yurt, Kheleltsüüleg, Central Area

Nuujn Khan, The Oyuunchimeg Khanate
No Calendar

NUUJIN.

It is a name of steel that resounds respect and reverence to the hearts of millions of Gangol men. Said to be fresh out from the forge as the finest steel among the Gangols. The thought of his name fills the air with the combined sound of horse fiddles and throat singing. A hundred -if not a thousand- shamans sing songs of highest praises that rever his sacred name as the chosen man of Griten to bring about a new age for the Gangolic people.

The roaring sound of winged steel horses resonates throughout Nuujin's giant Yurt, the Kheleltsüüleg, in a rather breezy cloudless blue afternoon. Inside this colossal amalgamation of the old and the new, starts the turning point of Gangol history.

"Hail Nuujin Khan, the chosen man of Griten!"

The silence of Nuujin's giant council yurt was broken by a gritty voice from a young warrior. The young man, later on, knelt down before the Khan's presence and placed his thunder spear^[1] in a vertical pole position. Nuujin was somehow caught by surprise, as he recently fell asleep from his chair. It also didn't help that the occasional cool breezes dropped the temperature inside his yurt, giving his slave women a break in fanning him. Nuujin nudged from his seat and turned his attention to the warrior.

"Stand warrior, what business do you have?" Nuujin lazily mumbled, with his command barely audible. Regardless, the warrior understood and rose up to his feet.

"Khan, I'm here to bring you word that all of the winged steel horses ^[2] of our fellow Khanates have successfully touched the earth. I also bring word that your Kheshigs are currently leading the Khans to this place." The warrior reported after he stood up to his feet. He let out an intentional cough and added, "Do you have any orders, Khan?"

"I see, then it is almost time for our greatest assembly. Continue with the guarding duty."

"Understood." The warrior saluted the Khan akin to what the soldiers of the country above the Atlantsetseg Khanate would do, a unique tradition among the Khanates only performed by the Oyuunchimeg Khanate. Afterward, the warrior went back outside the Yurt for his guard duty.

The sound of multiple steel horses^[3] could be heard approaching the Kheleltsüüleg. As the engines stopped and the men inside the vehicles slowly tread forward towards the colossal Yurt.

As they enter the Yurt, they see Nuujin Khan standing at a higher place, gesturing for the Khans to sit down in the mats. The small thunders and any bladed weapons that they brought alongside with them were confiscated by Nuujin’s Khesigs before they were allowed to step closer to Nuujin.

As the Khans sat down on the mats, Nuujin didn’t go down to sit alongside with them, sitting down on his chair made of gold. He intended this as a power move and he noticed how bothered the Khans were with the move. Before the Khans could complain, Nuujin immediately began speaking while gesturing his slaves to offer vodka to the Khans.

“My fellow Khans, I assume you all know why I gathered all of you here today.”

“Nuujin, your reasons were vaguely described in the letter, what are we to know and discuss about the great change that will propel us forward to a new age?” Chuluun Khan of the Monkhbat Khanate scoffed as he sipped the vodka from the glass.

“You’re lucky that we look up to you in high regard, Nuujin. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have come here after you’ve sent us that pretentious letter.” Arban Khan complained as he also took a sip of vodka.

“Agreed! This better be productive or else!" shouted Batuhan Khan of the Atlantsetseg Khanate as he chugged the Vodka in one gulp and threw the glass hard down to the floor, breaking it.

“All of you need to calm down, let’s hear what Nuujin has to say.” Oktai Khan of the Turgen Khanate motioned while returning the vodka offered by Nuujin to the slave women, stating that he doesn’t drink while Nuujin looked to his direction and nods before he went to explain his objective.

“I assume that you all are aware that our neighbors at an advancing rate compared to us. What do you think would be something they have that we don’t own?” Nuujin rhetorically asked as he crosses his legs.

“Women, to be raped?”

“Weak men?”

“Rare items?”

“Large Cities?”

The Khans reply in near chorus, with replies seemingly adding disappointment on Nuujin’s face. Although, he thought that Oktai Khan’s take about large cities might not be bad for an answer.

“All of you….” Nuujin sighed, “If there’s one our neighbors have one thing in common; they are all nation-states united under a system called a government.” He asserts as crosses his leg to the opposite direction.

“Govern-what? Is this one of the things you’ve read in those scraps of paper glued together?”

“They’re called books, Batuhan Khan.”

“Whatever these so-called books and why you like staring at those, just what are you trying to say here?” Arban Khan impatiently remarked.

“That’s a good question and that’s also the reason why I called all of you out here today.” Nuujin clears his throat, “Now with all the leadership present, I propose to all of you that our domains will be unified into a nation-state under the rule of a single centralized government.”

“Nation-state?”

“Centralized Government?”

“What in Griten’s name are those!?”

“What?”

“Say Nuujin, can you explain to us what a state-whatever is in the simplest manner where we all can understand? ”

“To put it simply, we all just have to offer our domains and unify to create one big domain .”

“I don’t get it Nuujin, are you telling us to just throw our power to this proposed government of yours?

“Yes, basically.”

“Nuujin you bastard son of a fox and fierce tiger, a premature baby aged below a month! You have no shame to ask us to simply throw away our great traditions just because you’ve read it in some pretentious scraps of paper glued together.”

“Nuujin, how dare you waste all of our time here. I will be departing.”

“Perhaps we should let Nuujin speak about the reason for his proposal first before trying to endlessly attack him like wild dogs.”

“Good idea, now speak up Nuujin!”

“Nuujin you bastard, you better have a good reason for this or else your domain will be uninhabitable for ten thousand years.”

Nuujin tried to quickly think of a compelling reason for the Khans support his idea. He didn’t even mind if the reasoning he gave out would not correlate with the reasoning he initially thought of for the unification of the Gangol people. Out of desperation, he fidgeted out from his seat and declared

"I am the sword sent by God to punish the men who have sinned against him and the chains that will bind his divided people into a single union of steel and strength. There’s only one reason for us to unite and that is to attain victory. Do you all really think we can defeat the enemy if are but fragmented?”

The sudden declaration stunned the Khans, mostly amused by the way Nuujin declared it. Although despite how strange it was, it worked for one thing; the Khans were intrigued by the whole idea of unification for the whole reason of defeating their enemies. After all, the frequency of raidings has now lowered now that the neighboring states have advanced. Nuujin also realized that if he had done this earlier, perhaps the Khans would be more willing to open up to his idea.

“So what? Do you think uniting would just give us some hidden blessing from Griten to win against our enemies? Absurd, I say!” Batuhan Khan complained, still reluctant to follow Nuujin's idea.

“So Batuhan Khan, are you contented with the current state of affairs. We have grown so weak that even your greatest Noyan, Mongke was crushed by a ragtag group of militia in the country of the North.”

“But I-”

“We can not afford to be weak, my fellow Khans. We only have one path towards victory and we can not afford to let it go. So what do you say, do you all agree to leave our weakness behind and gallop towards the great future.?”

The Khans were dumbfounded by the claim, realizing that their people have grown weak simply by being content. Meanwhile, Nuujin disliked how he used bad reasoning to appeal to the Khans, despite knowing it is the most effective way of convincing them.

“Then Nuujin, so who will rule over this proposed government of yours.” Oktai Khan questions Nuujin.

“Of course, we will go by how our forefathers decided who should rule among the strong, we will elect who shall be the Khagan among us."

“If that’s the case, then I cast my vote on Nuujin since this is your idea.”

“Likewise.”

“Very well you young bastard, I suppose you should run this government of yours since you’re the one who’ve read the most about these books of yours.”

The Khans then kneel to Nuujin, swearing loyalty to the Khagan.

“After you leave, let it be known throughout the land that I will now be known as Ganzorig Khan, the Khagan of the people of steel and that our domain will now be known as the Khaganate of Gangolia, with my domain be named Qaraquorom, the capital of our great nation. ”

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Thunder Spear is a Gangolic firearm terminology that originally applies to bolt-action rifles rifles. Although the terminilogy also extended to assault rifles and battle rifles.

2 - Winged Steel Horse is a Gangolic terminology that synononymous with aircraft.

3 - Steel Horses refer to the most popular vehicles the Khanate, pick-up trucks and utes.

4 - Small thunder is a Gangolic firearm terminology that refers to pistols.

by **Etoile Marin** » Thu Jan 03, 2019 4:58 am

A Dove Flew In One Morning

"Le Régime," Le Château du Régime-Grand, 1er localité des Nouvelles Lunes, Nouvelles Lunes, Principality of Etoile Marin

Le dimanche, 11 Janvier 391 AC (Après la Calamité)

Princess Amilessi Fléau Côpetia III
Princesse des étoiles et défenseur de l'île de lumière, Amilessi Léa-Mathia Fléau “Persephónê” Astredonnée de Côpetia “l'Amant”
The Monarch of Today for the Nation of Tomorrow

"Haven't you heard about the doves? They're gathering together as a family soon. Then, they'll fly south throughout Marinesia. It's so they can stay warm. After all, winter never bodes well for any of us. We could be just like them, though. Believe in the flight of your spirit¹, my children. For I shall write the words of peace on your wings, and wherever you go so too will harmony spread in the world. Then, perhaps we may be reunited as a people. As a family.."

—Perígalia Emilia-Selené Dantellión Concerraçons de Lumière “le Dévot”, Princess from 101 AC–129 AC.
[1] "The flight of your spirit," Source: Lectures of Life, translated by Saint-Polaris I; 333 B.C.

The fallen crest of winter draped its alpine cloak over the towering peaks of Nouvelles Lunes, the prized capital of a little island principality known as Etoile Marin; many called it by her maiden name, “The Star of the Sea.” The tropical beauty of the island’s many beaches were, for once, dormant due to a recent snowfall that blew in from the mountainous north. The natives call it a “White Star” phenomenon, where once every so often snow blankets the entirety of Etoile Marin, giving it a temporary whiteness unparalleled in the Atlantic Ocean.

Thus, The Marinian people were able to enjoy what had become a unique wintry weekend with their closest peers. In the dense urban streets, many couples and groups gathered at pubs, theater outlets and malls as an excuse to get out and enjoy a rare breeze of cold air on the island. Traffic quarreled with excessive pedestrians, though the city’s public transit system was doing well to mitigate this. Many of these people were lavish in their wealth, and rightfully so.

The island’s denizens were frequently reputable merchants and businessmen with more money than they knew what to do with. These Marinian suits knew best how to employ the island’s natural beauty to the interest of those all across the world, leading into the other half of the city’s activity: tourists. Many visitors, primarily from the closely bonded nation of Euphemie but attracting interest globally as well, joined the Marinian natives in Nouvelles Lunes. Those high above the happenings on the roadside were instead treated to a rare sight.

High in the office skyscrapers of Nouvelles Lunes, these office workers could see the entirety of the island. From the frosty rolling hills beyond the city blanketed with fledgling villages and hamlets, to the narrow mountain valleys closely filled by roadside farming towns, the island had a mix of every kind of atmosphere civilization could offer. At its highest point, Monte Pennet, sat the smallest village of them all: Flynt. It was best known for being the historic home of the royal family. A tradition that has lived up to its honor throughout the ages, even remaining true to this very day.

Though, the most interesting affairs happened at the Palais de Lunaire. Here was the urban seat of the royalty, the place where Etoile Marin's ancient throne of gold lie safe and secure. Many times had the crown of the island passed on from Princess to Prince, and back again, but now it was claimed by a particularly special monarch; a recently coronated one who's about to forge the first monument to their reign..

“They’re doing whaaat?!” Princess of Etoile Marin, Amilessi Fléau Côpetia III exclaimed promptly to one of her personal house servants, Housekeeper Sioninus l’Avantgarde, as she was receiving what could only be described as the most interesting news to come to her throne since her coronation. The golden haired beauty of Etoile Marin had been surprised by a sudden revelation just moments before.

“..Mi’lady,” Sioninus, a senior servant to the Côpetia dynasty for decades now, cleared his throat as he actively cleared the tapestry hanging behind Amilessi’s throne. It had depicted along it the six-pointed star of Polaris across it; the national icon of Etoile Marin. “Please understand this news wasn’t necessarily today’s happenings. In fact, I believe the situation in Mederum has been in progress for several days now–”

“Then why am I only just now finding out about this, Sion? How am I supposed to be a symbol of peace if two nations a skipping stone’s length away from my people can break out into full scale war, and I not know about it for almost a week?”

The Housekeeper exhaled, knowing fully his mistress wasn’t always this childish in her position. It had nothing to do with their relationship either – he actually had to sit down in these times, disappointed as he would endure her ignorant rambling. “..Perhaps, Mi’lady, you should be out there, in the towns you’re supposed to represent. You used to love going out on daily tours of Masais in particular. Whatever changed your mind?”

Amilessi shifted in her throne, seemingly remembering something that put her off. “..This sudden ascension I suppose. It’s not like us to have a Princess so suddenly step down after just a few years in the position. Even though I’m thankful to Count Cyrian¹ for easing the transition for me, I can’t help but feel a bit… hesitant. Just the past few days I couldn’t bring myself to leave the safety of the Palais de Lunaire until you came back, Sion.”

Being so young and largely unprepared for her role, the sheltered Princess had grown dependent on the reassurances of her servants and peers. Sioninus was mostly responsible for watching over the Princess' residence, but he'd come by for the weekend to visit and accompany her while she took care of some essential requests from the courts. Which just boiled down to approving various minor agreements the Noble Congress had presented the week before.

Sioninus couldn't help but let out a sigh, giving her a sincere look. “Amie, you and I both know you're much too old to be saying such things. I know it's not easy to adjust to your new position, but please remain professional. You know these people have to look up to you. How can they do so if you're couped up here every weekend?”

Amilessi waved her hand dismissively of the reminder she was being childish. “Fine! Fine, I suppose if you're behind it then it can't be that bad.. well, what do you propose I do about this conflict then? Should I go say some words in Qarik to try to console the people and support them in this crisis, or do you have something else in mind?” Normally her Housekeeper wasn't the first source of advice she'd go to, but in this particular event he'd been the first source she heard about this from – and that fact alone bothered her.

Sioninus let out a low hum in thought at the question, before he snapped his fingers snapped and he approached the arm of her throne. An idea was on his mind, one he'd given to Amilessi's predecessor once before. “If I may make a suggestion off personal experience then, Mi’lady, it may be in your best interest to address the Noble Congress about this then. They could certainly organize something between members of the international community to achieve the peace you seek. You know, sitting around here won’t change anything, and, if I may boldly remark, you wouldn’t want to ruin one of the most beautiful faces of the isle by lazing around day in day out.”

He added the last part mostly as a joke, though it wasn't entirely false. Amilessi had received a lot of publicity around the time of her coronation due to her 'stunning beauty,' even being proclaimed the most beautiful woman on Etoile Marin last year. The media had embarrassed her so much she had to restrict them from the Palace for a week until they learned to give her some distance.

He left the suggestion on her mind, bold remark included, as he bowed courteously to excuse himself, and made to prepare a luncheon for her and her other servants – they frequently enjoyed eating together, in part thanks to Amilessi’s lax treatment of her staff.

The young Princess dwelled on Sioninus’ advice for a time. “..So it's a conference huh?..” Amilessi mumbled to herself aloud. She hadn’t done such a thing in the one year she’d been crowned; it wasn’t constitutionally required, and frequently past monarchs had simply told the courts to do them proud and behave amongst themselves.

She resolved this time would be different. Now was the best time to demonstrate herself on the world stage, and she knew just how to do it. The Princess rose from her throne, and was soon following in Sioninus’ wake. She called after him, “Oh, Sion! After lunch, I need to make an errand!..”

The deep blue and red Mayer CR.SP², escorted by similar vehicles of its class, received many friendly waves and greetings from passersby as it travelled down the streets of Nouvelles Lunes. It was the elongated staff vehicle belonging to the crown of Etoile Marin, a fairly well built vehicle inspired by the same pre-War automotives the crown used for royal protection, but modernized to provide much more effective protections to those inside. The similar Mayer CR.S³, the original vehicle it was inspired off of back then, escorts the SP model in sets of two in front and two behind it. They also always travel with two SP's in the motorcade in order to throw off assassins – although this has not always been so successful..

Inside one was the heart of the nation, Princess Amilessi. She'd called on short notice for a trip to Le Château du Régime-Grand, where the Noble Congress of Etoile Marin was housed. Many legislators there frequented the building for minor, lesser meetings within the various coalition groups that divided the nation, so it was always a plenty busy structure. However, whenever a monarch rolled up to the building, it usually meant one of two things: either they were planning on delivering a Royal Address there soon..

..or they were intending on making a declaration.

As Amilessi stepped out of her transport with one of her aides polite help, she looked up to the high rising dome adorning the structure. The well dressed noble had a look of determination on her features, as she and her escort crossed through the iced gardens to enter the structure. They had a mission on their minds: a mission for peace.

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Count Cyrian “Victoire” de Linois - One of the more prominent lesser nobles on Etoile Marin. A family friend of Amilessi and the Côpetia dynasty for the last two decades, Cyrian has been influential in negotiating the purchase of various military assets for Etoile Marin's overseas capabilities. Similarly, he played a major role when the late Princess of Etoile Marin abdicated without reason last year, having to transition a young Amilessi to the throne of Etoile Marin. The event was reminiscent of when the last pre-War Princess was coronated, who was also fairly young and naïve when she rose to power.

2 - Mayer CR.SP - A custom-built limousine-style variant of the Marinian staff car model, built and produced by Mayer l'Automoteur. It features bulletproof glass and armor, countermeasures in event of chemical attacks, and backup firearms in the event of an ambush, along with other minor features.

3 - Mayer CR.S - The civilian, sedan-version of the Marinian staff car model, built and produced by Mayer l'Automoteur. Civilian models are mundane, but royal models are improved to be useful in combat engagements, featuring minor versions of the CR.SP's modifications.

by **The Enclave Government** » Thu Jan 03, 2019 3:24 pm

The Road To Peace Is Paved With The Bodies of the Just, the Souls of the Damned, and Brass Bullet Casings

Old Senate Chamber, Olympiad, Aenara

24 January, A.C. 391

His Excellency, 45th President of the Aenaran Republic, Atton Rand

New Aenaran Republic

It is often said that a Head of State’s most important - and indeed, their most consequential - role is that of Commander in Chief of their nation’s marshalled military forces. A multitude of political parties and politicians can be blamed for domestic mismanagement, but the Commander in Chief is apportioned absolute authority in the command of the Armed Forces. There is no opposition upon which blame can be deflected, only an enemy that wishes to do the nation a dishonor by vanquishing it in combat. For a Commander in Chief, blame is much like hot air; it rises upwards.

The nature of his office weighed heavily upon Atton. He was, within minutes, about to appeal to the Aenaran nation and beg of it it’s sacrifice of blood and treasure. As the well of responsibility for defense of the nation, such was his duty. Sanjar’s actions had forced his hand, and so too must he force the national mood towards one of war.

“Mr President, the Senate is awaiting your arrival,” spoke one of his protection detail. Solemnly nodding, Atton stood from his chair and lightly patted his pant leg. “Well, I suppose it’s time. Let’s get on with this.”

Exiting the Senate Cloakroom to raptorous applause - or concerning uniform silence, depending upon the provincial delegation - President Atton ascended the central rostrum and took his place at the podium. Flanked by two large Aenaran flags, the President’s address was tailored towards the theatrical.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, we are gathered here today to deliberate one matter; the proposed Declaration of War upon the Empire of Sanjar. The facts of this matter are not in dispute. The Empire has destabilized the critical Mederan Peninsula, and disrupted the peace in the region with jingoistic threats and a monopoly upon that most essential resource for life: water. It has leveraged its natural blessings into a weapon to enrich itself and terrorize the benevolent nation of Qarik. Already, for months, our ally the Federal States of Euphemie has been fighting to maintain the sovereignty of that modest state. As decided in Senate Resolution 7731, Aenara was to not involve itself in the conflict unless it expanded to involve our regional partner Manae. Events have unfolded in such a manner as to make our isolationist stance untenable. Earlier today, Manaean sovereignty was brashly violated by the air force of the Empire of Sanjar, in a deliberate attack upon the Federal State of Euphemie’s aerial forces. The only question is a moral one; is stopping the Empire of Sanjar worth the investment of blood and treasure necessary? How many of our boys is Peace in the East worth? Well, neither of these questions get to the heart of matters. This is not a question of peace or war. It is a question of war on our terms, or war on the terms of our adversaries. There is only one surefire method to achieve peace, and it is the one we can never allow: surrender. Appeasement has proven to be the friend of war and the enemy of peace. Allowing Sanjar to continue to act as it wishes will only endenger a growing sense of self confidence in Harsu’s Government that there is no line in the sand which will stop his advance. Allow me to clarify for him and for any adversary of our Republic; there is a price we will not pay, and there is a point past which we will stop any advance. That point has been passed by Sanjar, and a robust military response is in order. I have already ordered the Atlantic Battlegroup to steam south-east to meet this threat, and our Air Forces based in Manae will soon begin retaliation strikes. I come before you, the representatives of the Aenaran people, to authorize the deployment of ground forces to Manae to meet this threat of arms with our righteous and mighty forces. I am confident that the Senate shall vote in accordance with our values and do what must be done. Chancellor, I rest the floor.”

Within minutes, the vote had concluded. One hundred and ninety six Senators in favor - mostly representing the Coastal Corridor - and one hundred and seventy four Senators in opposition. The opposition, scattered as it was between the Mountain South and the Desert West, was unable to effectively organize their delegations opposition. The result was a clear majority in favor of intervention.

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Jan 06, 2019 1:21 am

Commemorations

Le Palais-Royal de Tristelunaire, 1er Localité, Nouvelles Lunes, Etoile Marin

26 January, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

Lawns of vibrant green shifting in a calm breeze spanned across the courtyard of the Palais de Lunaire, seat of Etoile Marin’s monarchy and capital of the quaint island nation. Hues of lavender and red hibiscus flowers dotted throughout the grass croppings gave the location a natural aura despite the palace being located in the midst of an urban jungle. Nouvelles Lunes’ high rising complexes almost obscured the pinnacle of the nation’s history from view. Thankfully, the ornate mahogany structure of the palace stood out amidst the grayscale city around it. The window panes seemingly outlined in tarnished silver bands, signs of structural damage slowly being repaired to the structure, and the overall outdated look of it fully illustrated the history of the structure; this citadel of royalty hadn’t been moved in hundreds of years.

This sight and more were fully unveiled to an approaching motorcade of vehicles, both Euphemian and Marinian in nature, nearing the palace grounds. They were moving down one of the largest streets in Nouvelles Lunes, military and civilian vehicles taking up four lanes as they made for their destination. The nation had called for a grandeur ceremony in response to recent events that had happened on the island; having nearly faced armageddon from a ballistic missile strike, the people of Etoile Marin wanted to thank the Euphemian servicemen who were responsible for saving their lives. This came together in the form of Princess Amilessi declaring that she would reward Sgt. W. Reeves and Col. M. Felix with the most the island could offer in gratitude.

The next thing they knew, they were riding in one of the very Mayer CR.SP vehicles the island used to transport Amilessi herself, on their way to the palace grounds to be well received by not just the royalty of Etoile Marin, but all the politicians, big corporate leaders, and various other guests of honor who were either invited or permitted to attend the event. Along the way though, the motorcade would be greeted and cheered by many common folk native to the island. Well dressed men and women, some holding their children by the hand or on their shoulders, looked on to those who saved their lives with immense pride and joy.

"We're heroes now or somethin'?" Billy questioned, looking to the crowds. "I gotta say, these formals really don't fit me. At least you look good in 'em."

"Don't think I've ever shaken hands with a head of state. Like, what are we supposed to do? Salute? Shake hands? Or—" Marie shook her head. "Whatever, I guess we'll figure that one out when we get there."

"And that must be the palace," Billy glanced to the rather ornate structure which awaited them not too far ahead. "Whole lot better than that shabby apartment I had back in Vanderbilt."

"I suppose it goes without mentioning that it's preferrable to the Alexandria's living quarters." Marie joked to the rather uncomfortable living space aboard CVN-115. "Right. We gotta, uh, look composed. Cool military types. We're not like those rowdy sailors, something like that. Play it cool."

"I'm playing it cool, are you playing it cool?" Billy composed himself, trying to remember how irritable his superiors had been at the Naval Aviation Academy.

"I'm certainly playing it cool." Marie said. "Your hair's a little messier than usual, the cameras will notice."

"No, they won't." Billy continued watching the crowds outside the vehicle, and soon they were passing flowerbeds as the palace drew nearer. Proudly it stood, a flagpost at the gates, the Marinian flag gracefully moving with the wind. This was the heart of the Marinian nation, the cornerstone by which their society was built. The typical activities that'd been going about with the conference had subsided by now — in part thanks to the incident — and it seemed the event was now purely in dedication to their heroism in the face of danger. Of course, Billy didn't need to mention that his WSO was unconscious for the duration of that act — he'd feared for her life as much as he'd feared for his own.

The crowds soon kept their distance on the perimeter of the palace grounds, those in the courtyard within of a different position entirely. Men and women in suits or noble garbs were gathered along the boardwalk leading up to the ceremonial grounds before them, many of which belonged to the Noble Congress; that is, the people who effectively governed Etoile Marin. Clearly this event held some significance for so many important people - Marinian or otherwise - to be present at one time.

The motorcade came to a halt before the prestigious site, cars stopping to help their occupants disembark. Marinian marines escorting the group ensured the people of the city kept their distance while the so-called ‘heroes’ were welcomed into the courtyard before them. The mixture of open green gardens and crystal blue fountains gave the scene a pleasant atmosphere.

"Here goes nothin', I guess." Billy opened the right side passenger door, stepping foot before the courtyard. His superior joined him, exiting through the same side, and the two walked on to the courtyard's end. Upon all sides they were beset by ornate sights, tasteful architecture and nature blended beautifully to complement the palace sights.

Walking down that courtyard was, of course, not unlike the rather strict affairs they'd undergone at the Naval Aviation Academy in Arcadia, Turmenista. Billy was nervous, and he was certain Marie was, too. Who wouldn't be, anyway?

The only semblance of comfort that could be levied in their favor were the 41 other pilots of VFA-125 that had come to attend, who walked behind the two Euphemian aviators.

The courtyard’s end was graced by the presence of the Princess herself, Amilessi Fléau Côpetia III, standing before an honor guard of a dozen marines, all dressed in well adorned formals and in formation. Before her, a podium bearing the crest of the royal family stood ready to receive her words. The princess, being the cultural figurehead of the nation, stood out amongst all the nobility gathered. The sunlight above caught the youthful monarch’s crown of platinum, almost glorifying her more than the formal white dress did. She was complemented by the presence of what appeared to be the commander of the Marinian military. He held in his hands a velvet draped black box bearing the national symbol of Etoile Marin on it: the six-pointed star.

As the group concluded their applauded walk down the courtyard and stood before the Princess herself, the Marinian marines saluted them in full, welcoming their allies to the palace at last.

Right. Billy thought, saluting in turn — his CO had the same idea, saluting with him.

The Marinians lowered their arms, looking to their Princess as she addressed the 43 Euphemian pilots standing before her. News cameras, both airborne and from the crowds, watched closely as she began,

“Marinians, Euphemians, friends from all nations.” She began. “We’re gathered here today to remember a particular moment of groundbreaking history made on this little slice of paradise.”

“On the 24th of January this time, we witnessed an unprecedented long-range attack conducted against the people of not just Etoile Marin, but all of Marinesia. Many citizens could only look on in fear as the world turned dark.”

“However, the light of hope flickered back once more, as we were able to witness these 43 pilots take to the skies and undertake a mission that would save thousands,” - She had credited even the 41 who were not directly responsible for shooting down the crucial missiles of that attack.

“These men before you, my friends, are the ones who deserve your utmost respect. For their undaunted courage, we must thank them with all our hearts. They risked their lives so we could live another day. Now is the time to celebrate this victory. Now, we shall remember what it is we, as the bystanders of a great war shall we, must do for the valiant.”

At this point, she spared a brief look directly at Billy and Marie before continuing.

“We must remember what Princess Perígalia proclaimed on a day just like this one, when the Marinian people finally got to see dawn break over this island. She spoke of the ideals we - the people of this world - must uphold in order to continue seeing days like this one. We, Etoile Marin and Euphemie, hand in hand, will remember today not as a day of dread, but a day of great heroism. The day they gave their all to ensure the freedom of our mutual people remained firm. These heroes before you fought for what is right, and deserve this ceremony to remember them for it.”

She motioned to the commander of the Marine de l'Étoile Marin, who stood to attention upon being introduced. With more focus on him, he appeared to be fairly middle aged, likely having served in the military here several decades. Though, his most distinguishing feature was the sheer number of accolades on his uniform.

“This man, Ser Valéntoire Genscard-Thérlons Rapiers Herménégilde, has served our nation for 24 years now. He may know every man and woman in the Marines right now, currently standing as one of our finest officers, but none of us could have expected these brave souls to reach the level of valor he has. It is with great pride I grant him the blessing of the Stars above in this ceremony.”

“Ser Valéntoire, you may present the Honor of National Protection.” She announced, as the man stepped forward towards Billy first, black box in hand.

Keep calm... play it cool. Billy thought, faced by the man. Keeping a straight expression, he subtly glanced down to the box. Real medals... from another country, too. Just how many Euphemians had received foreign awards, besides maybe the President (bless him)?

He opened the box to reveal an eight-pointed medallion, emblazoned in blue and outlined in gold. The material looked to be fabric, and it was hung from a miniature banner of the nation. True to the medal’s name, it depicted a shield in the epicenter of the design.

“This medal is awarded only to those who perform specific feats of heroism or bravery that ensure the lives of innocents are kept safe. By safeguarding the people of Etoile Marin from certain destruction, we’ve deemed it fitting to reward this to you, Sergeant William C. Reeves. On behalf of the nation, we thank you for your service.” He pulled the medal from the box, and offered to pin it on him.

With a curt nod, he maintained his arms to the side, as if to gesture he'd accepted the offer. That's how this works, right? His thoughts were running wild as he awaited the medal.

His thoughts proved true as the commander applied the medal to his uniform, accompanying it with a salute. He then moved onto Billy’s CO, delivering the same greeting to her before gifting her with the accolade as well. The crowds around them applauded once Billy and Marie had received these medals. More would be distributed to the other pilots in the group as well, showing all of them would receive this medal.

"Never thought we'd be here, in front of all these people—" Billy whispered to Marie.

"Play it cool, remember?" She replied.

With the Honor of National Protection distributed to all its recipients, Valéntoire returned to the Princess’ side as she resumed. “Let it be known this is an honor bestowed upon not just to Marinians, but Euphemians as well. Many of your countrymen have earned this feat just as you have. We hope you will accept this honor on behalf of myself - and the Marinian people - who are forever thankful for your actions here.”

Before she continued, the commander spoke briefly with one of the honor guard behind him, who produced a second box - this one smaller than the last considerably. It was adorned in what looked to be silver, and likely only held a handful of medals, if any.

“Now, I’d like to personally distinguish two among your group who excelled in the field of combat.” The Princess proceeded, addressing Billy and his CO directly. “Etoile Marin knows what it owes you two for being primarily responsible for the destruction of long ranged missiles targeting our homeland. As such, we have deemed it fitting to award you with something that has not been given out in nearly 400 years! Ser Valéntoire will now reward Sergeant William C. Reeves and Colonel Marie Felix with the Honor of Valour Eminence.”

400 years? Fern really bestowin' his blessings, huh? Can't believe it's me, of all people.

Valéntoire came up to them both, showing them what their next - and vastly more unique honorific - was to be. While its colored bands were more simplistic than the last, the design of the medal itself was far more valuable than the last. A cross of solid gold, depicting the face of an unknown woman with the name “Cymbeline” etched at the bottom of it, and the words “L’Étoile Marin” lining the upper edges of it. The woman bore the helmet of a Marinian marine from well before the War, proving the Princess’ words were true. This was a historic medal not often given out it seemed.

“Today, we hope you will receive this historic medal commemorating your courageous efforts in the skies. By proving yourselves examples worthy of following after, we believe it is best to distinguish you two as such. Few Euphemians have received such an honor, and even fewer Marinians. But we are all thankful for your hearts of iron, and loyalty to your nation.” As before, he would then bestow upon them both the special medal. They were the only two who would be receiving it.

Billy quickly glanced over to Marie, seeing she was equally as surprised by what was transpiring. In that moment, they'd become a part of history. The thought of it was still one he had to come to terms with.

Just as the commander returned to his formation, the Princess extended a hand towards Billy in particular. “I wish to end this ceremony on a personal note, on behalf of the legacy of so many before me who’ve held this title. It’s one of my roles to ensure the continued upholding of peace in this world, and I wouldn’t be able to do that without the help of those such as you. Thus, I’ll give my own thanks to Sergeant William C. Reeves for preserving not just my life, but those of my family, my loved ones, and my nation.”

She received a tremendous applause from the crowd as she descended from the podium suddenly, approaching the commander and receiving something from him. It was a single medal, ornately made that fit into the palm of the woman’s hand. She moved before Billy, showing a sincere smile as she presented the medal before him. “This is the Star of Honor, one of the last and only ones of its kind ever made. Last time it was distributed was by one of my ancestors, who commemorated the union between our peoples two hundred years ago. I can’t think of anything higher ordained to express my gratitude than this, and believe you’ve made a landmark in history your ancestors would be proud to see too. Let this represent our island’s wholesome respect to you, and remind you we’ll always remember your deeds on this day - myself included.”

"I am honored to accept this medal." He replied. Was that the right thing to say?

She applied the accolade to his uniform, responding to him with a pleased beam, then made the same gesture to his CO next to him. While she didn’t receive the Star of Honor, she was told similarly that this was a nation who would remember them for centuries to come. With the medals distributed, she returned to her stand and began to close out the ceremony.

A few more words were said by Valéntoire to those who participated in repelling the Sanjari air ambush, followed by a closing remark from Amilessi mostly reiterating what she opened with. The motion ended with the raising of the Euphemian flag just beneath the Marinian one, as the crowd - and soldiers gathered - gave their final celebratory applause to the Euphemian pilots.

Respite, Albeit Brief

FSS Alexandria (CVN-115)

1 February, A.C. 391

Col. Marie Felix
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

The Alexandria had departed from port again, to much fanfare by the crew as they were to assist in Sanjar once again. However, they weren't expected to do anything today, and so the crew had remained largely relaxed, which wasn't exactly in line with readiness orders.

At one of the mess hall's tables, VFA-125's aviators were having breakfast — it wasn't as good as the diners, bars and restaurants of Masais, but it wasn't too bad, either. Greater unit cohesion, to build the idea of a 'group' oriented mindset, was something Marie had been working on for awhile, presumably on orders from higher-up to fit the unit's new image.

Billy wasn't present, but Marie's mind was still running wild over the award ceremony in Etoile Marin. They'd effectively become celebrities aboard the vessel, and gained significant respect among their peers. Yet she knew she owed a lot of this to his perseverence and unparalleled knack for split-second decisions.

Hell, they'd probably made the news back home.

"That mission was something else, wasn't it, Colonel? We even got medals for the whole thing!" Abby asked. The crimson-haired girl had been especially talkative since she'd finished her breakfast, and her extroverted, even if hyperactive, personality seemed to have made her one of the squadron's 'favorites'.

"..Yeah, it certainly was, del Rio." Marie answered, attempting to look half-interested.

"Oh, please, Colonel. Just call me Abby! Everyone calls me Abby. You know I'm very excited for the next operation— Oh! I went to the NAA back in Turmenista — I think you might've gone there too, actually. Were you in a class run by a guy named Owens?"

"Uhhh... Yeah, I was. What about it? Most of us have gone there." Marie replied, moderately confused by Abby's familiarity with her.

"Small world, huh?" She giggled. "I'm going to admit I didn't pay perfect attention there... maybe that's why you and your pilot can pull so many wild stunts. I'm just a slacker, you know? That was amazing, what you pulled off, by the way. I've told you that before, haven't I? This might sound a little weird, but you're, like, my role model, Colonel."

"Role model?" Marie smiled. It couldn't be further from the truth.

Operation Yellowcake

FSS Alexandria (CVN-115)

2 February, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

Aircraft rest upon the black flight deck, hastily taking off and landing in quick succession. They had left Etoile Marin a day prior, replenished and prepared for the next round of engagements. Aenara had entered the war after the ballistic missile incident, and it'd seemed their goals were unlike the Euphemians' — full-on regime change in Sanjar, rather than simply defending Qarik.

Two replacement aircraft had arrived, Billy's Hexmaiden being shipped back to Ironport for repairs and the Hexmaiden lost in the Sanjari ambush being replaced entirely. Two new arrival had come from the mainland as well, so Billy had heard, due to Thompson's death and Mahan's resignation.

Walking along the deck, Billy followed behind Marie as they made for their new F-13D Hexmaiden, which was in queue to be launched from the catapult. They were to be deployed into Sanjar again, targeting a nuclear enrichment site northeast of Eshtar, in the closed city of Kerat. It was alleged that Sanjar was, with threatening odds against them, pursuing armament against the NCA's soft push for Sanjari deescalation.

"The stakes just never go down, do they?" Billy stopped before the F-13D, looking to his WSO.

"They're about to get higher." Marie said. Looking to the east, seeing only the rising, blazing sun climb gradually over the celestial backdrop, she seemed almost hesitant to get aboard the Hexmaiden. It was only natural, after almost facing death in the previous engagement. "I'm still a lil' afraid, y'know?"

Billy hesitated for a moment, thinking against speaking. The moment was interrupted by footsteps, however, which brought Billy's attention to two airmen of VFA-125.

The two airmen saluted, though it was the girl that spoke first. "Colonel! I look forward to working with your squadron. Lieutenant Marietta Basset. I was with VFA-321, I've been reassigned due to the unfortunate circumstances that occurred." The blonde hair and light features of the new officer seemed to conceal a cold, calculating gaze. Billy could tell by the woman's glance that she was trying to read just who he was. Now, he wasn't the brightest nor the slickest, but he knew just how intimidating those types could be. "I also look forward to competing for the spot of 'ace'..." She added. This one seemed to be a competitive one.

"Sergeant John Trippe, formerly with North Mbanza Coal and Steel Corporation and VFA-321." The man seemed equally hardened as his partner, and he certainly had in him the eyes of a killer. He'd noticed the confusion between the two, and quickly eased up. "I served as a mercenary pilot during the 33rd Mbanza Conflict, seven years ago. The Navy picked me accordingly. The F-13D is probably the largest airframe I've piloted, but hopefully you'd be surprised at what I can pull off." He smiled, which served to reassure the two that he was, at least to some degree, a man of good-natured heart.

"At ease." Marie instructed. "It's a pleasure to have you two onboard."

The two complied, lowering their hand.

"Our pleasure, Colonel." Basset walked to their F-13D, Trippe behind her.

With the others gone, the two climbed aboard the Hexmaiden without further word.

The canopy closing over him, Billy looked back to Marie. The worry resided, even in him, that harm could come either to himself or his WSO. Underestimating the Sanjaris was something he'd learned not to do, not after the last fight.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [Naval Launch Command, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Run prelim."

The two aviators conducted their usual pre-flight routine, and soon enough it was their turn to take off.

"Good luck..." He began, looking back to Marie.

"And fair seas!"

Eshtar had become the center of combat between Aenaran drop units and local Sanjari military forces. It wouldn't be long until support from Arslan arrived, bringing with it enough integrated air defense systems to cause trouble for any Euphemian aviators. This emphasized the necessity for their mission to succeed — to leave any Sanjari nuclear program efforts dead in the water.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "Destroy the reactor, laboratories and the nuclear fuel storage facility. Expect Sanjari air assets to be in the AO, though they may be focused on the Aenarans. Wait for Palisade to conduct drop."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "All units, this is Blackstar. There is an airstrip near Kerat, partly concealed by the desert and rather convenient hangar placement. It has been marked."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205782] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "We'll keep that in mind, Blackstar."

Flying just above the cumulonimbus cloudline, VFA-125 kept just ahead of VAQ-202, which was aiding in the unit's concealment through jamming Sanjari radar to allow them to reach the nuclear enrichment plant.

Two B-64H Palisades of the 18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard" tailed behind, above the two squadrons. They were armed not with bombs, but with more jamming equipment and a certain surprise.

"We should've brought these in last time. We wouldn't have lost one of our own..." Marie noted, looking out the cockpit to see one of the B-64Hs above in the distance.

"They're probably here because of the incident." Billy kept his gaze ahead, noting the group of twenty red dots nearby. They were most likely MRF-387 Tusara^[1] fighter aircraft, which were slightly different — and superior in some regards, inferior in others — to the Kalat. "It's not our fault, though."

"Right." She nodded, going quiet as they entered the AO. Eshtar was in flames, smoke billowing from the cityscape below. The grim sight could be perceived in the occasional glimpse allowed by the cloud layer. Waiting for the greenlight, Billy could hear nothing more than the white noise of the cockpit, the electronic beeps and hums of the flight equipment and his superior's soft breathing. Things were oddly calm in moments like these.

The two Palisade bombers opened their bays, diving below the cloudline to drop their payload of aluminium chaff. Sanjari radar operators were about to have things go from bad to worse. The twin bombers soon rose back into the visual cover of the clouds, rising above the two Navy squadrons.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "Chaff's away."

Meanwhile, VFA-125 and its electronic warfare escort descended below the clouds, the nuclear facility on the horizon.

"Hey, do ya think the Sanjaris have nukes? With the Aenarans intent on regime change, who knows Harsu might use a few on his own soil?" Billy asked, curious.

"I doubt it. If they do, I'm sure Tangaliro is involved." Marie said. "Now," Flipping a few switches, Billy watched the aircraft lock onto multiple targets on the surface — particularly the nuclear fuel storage facility, the test reactor and one of the two laboratories. "Launching three AGM-606 ASCM-MRs."^[2]

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205782] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "Engaging the facility."

The missiles soared off, descending towards their targets. In seconds, three explosions dotted the horizon — quickly becoming much more as the rest of the squadron's missiles struck the facility. The largest explosion of them all was the reactor — engulfing half of its housing structure in a fireball as it exploded.

/// [SJRFOR] - [26th Strategic Asset Unit] - [Maj. H. Zarad] /// - "Explosion reported at the Shamshat Reactor!"

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Multirole Squadron "Saxat"] - [MRF-387 | #01038A] - [Unknown] /// - "What in the heavens is with our radar?!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "We're targeting the airstrip."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Amn. A. del Rio] /// - "Moving to engage Sanjari aircraft.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Lt. M. Basset] /// - "Worry not."

As del Rio's F-13D broke formation to engage the Sanjari aircraft, Basset and Trippe's Hexmaiden had followed suit — seemingly using the afterburners to achieve it with twice the speed. Soon, the squadron as a whole was moving to engage their targets.

Euphemian aircraft required mere seconds to lock onto their 20-some unsettled, demoralized Sanjari aircraft. Each Hexmaiden, in their present loadout, had carried four ARGOs and two AAM-11 Brushstroke missiles. The first three aircraft of the squadron also had attached to their spare hardpoints three AGM-606 ASCM-MR cruise missiles for the destruction of ground facilities — these had been spent by now.

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Multirole Squadron "Saxat"] - [MRF-387 | #01038A] - [Unknown] /// - "Euphemian fighters!"

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Multirole Squadron "Saxat"] - [MRF-387 | #01278A] - [Unknown] /// - "Move towards the source of the jamming and engage!"

As the clouds parted above, Marie had instructed VFA-125 to dive towards the Sanjaris, who seemed to be on a course towards the VAQ and Palisades.

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Multirole Squadron "Saxat"] - [MRF-387 | #01038A] - [Unknown] /// - "Visual contact! By the— They're before the Sun!"

Sanjari mythology long told of how the Sun acted as a deity second only to the Moon, its luck bestowed upon those graced by its light. Perhaps, in that moment, it was true.

With the sun glimmering against his back, Billy engaged the Hexmaiden's afterburners, sending it speeding towards the Sanjaris as Marie fired away half the F-13D's missiles.

The MRF-387 Tusara fighter aircraft conducted sharp turns, launched flares, did what they could to avoid the swift and sudden attack. Seven of the Sanjari fighters exploded in midair, and one had been rendered a smoldering, inoperable wreck, to which its pilot had quickly bailed.

The remaining Sanjari aircraft had closed range with the VAQ — their radar burning through the jamming as they drew nearer — until the electronic warfare squadron fired away missiles of their own.

/// [SJRFOR] - [13th Multirole Squadron "Saxat"] - [MRF-387 | #03429A] - [Unknown] /// - "We see no Euphemian heavy bombers?!"

In a matter of seconds, another five Sanjari fighters had been destroyed in midair, sending the remaining seven on a swift eastbound retreat, humiliated by the Euphemian aircraft.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "All units, this is Blackstar. Excellent job. Sanjari aircraft are on the run, falling back on an eastbound course."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "All objectives fulfilled. All units, RTB."

Tas'ar Tower, Arslan, Sanjar

2 February, A.C. 391

Astoreth iv Sanjar
Imperial House of Sanjar
Sanjar Empire

In order to resolve the succession dispute among those contending to be Archprince — or Archprincess, for that matter, Astoreth had hatched a curious plot. As the contenders, that is, almost fifty of Astoreth's cousins, they were filing into the ballroom at the palace's eastern wing. Those that she particularly liked had been deliberately assembled elsewhere at the Tas'ar Tower, officially for a 'charity do'. She was always one to be 'extra', and had secretly ensured the room would be one that'd give herself a clear view of the Palace.

Cup of tea in hand, she shot a brief glance to the palace before turning her attention back to the room, busy with her relatives chatting on about various affairs.

"Astoreth?" Karduk was at an adjacent seat, cigar in hand as he exhaled the occasional puff. "Where might Harsu be?"

Lowering her teashade sunglasses, she grinned. "Why, he's addressing the graduates at the University of Arslan."

What a stupid fool. He frolicks as the nation burns. Astoreth didn't particularly hold Harsu in high regard, even if he had saved her life. Behind all the rhetoric and charisma was a delusional, insane shell of a man, who had squandered so much of the country's military in a pointless war against Qarik, all to set into motion a course of events that would bring the Exiles, and by extent Harsu's sister, Anya, back to Sanjar. He was a madman, and she was certain he'd only started all this to see his sister one more time before his inevitable, violent death. Had she been in charge, she'd have destroyed Qarik from within, far wiser than any of the previous emperors — and far wiser than Harsu or his pretender Anya would be.

However, she could not simply overthrow him. He was good-willed, at least to her, and had saved her life. By their honor code, she could not do anything to him — but she could leave termites in the woodwork to erode his grip on power. The only position of power in Sanjar that could potentially challenge her own power was the role of Archprince, to which Harsu had previously kept her in check with the late Archprince Misharu. The Archprince, or Archprincess, therefore, would truly be picked from this room, among those she was on good terms with.

He's just a madman who wants to see this family reunified. He will — but it will be bloody. She thought, sipping her cup of tea as the attendees continued chatting on.

"It's a shame Harsu isn't here." Karduk was a tool, a particular nuisance to Astoreth, due to his inability to shut up about how great Harsu was. If she were, perchance, to rise to power, Karduk would not be alive... he'd been useful to her due to the power he wielded over the military. Yet even then, he was an idiot. The Aenaran menace had already reached Eshtar, and yet he had no concrete plan by which to stop it. Something snapped in that moment, however, and she ceased to care.

"Oh, it certainly is." She replied. "Say, why don't you come to the observation room? I have an idea... regarding the war. I mean, you are aware of what happened at the Shamshat Reactor site, are you?" The last part she spoked in a hushed whisper, as if to dissuade any other... prying ears among her family.

Karduk seemed confused at that.

The stupid fool truly doesn't know? She thought.

"I suppose it's important." Karduk rose from his seat.

Astoreth followed suit, setting the tea aside on a coffee table situated by the chair as she stood up. She led him to the door leading to the observation room, taking from her jacket the building's master key. The door opened as if on cue to the key being placed before the scanner, and she walked forth, closing the door once Karduk had entered as well.

"What's the matter?" Karduk asked. Rather than a response, however, she swiftly embraced him, lips locking with his as she kissed her third cousin. The fool reciprocated the act, too — as they did, Astoreth reached into her coat, setting off the detonator. As the earthshattering explosion was heard, she kicked him in the gut, sending him tumbling backwards, the window shattering as he fell through to his death. She made sure to throw the detonator down, too.

There it was, like a phoenix rising above, a fireball soared above the eastern wing of the palace, the death of every one of Astoreth's rivals set in stone. She had now the scapegoat for their tale, so she drew a knife from her coat and drove it into her torso. Aside from the general ropes of statecraft, she'd studied forensics at the University of Arslan, and knew well how to not kill herself in the process. It wouldn't go deep, and it wouldn't perforate any vital organs. As the pain seared up her chest, she bit on the capsule she'd kept in her mouth — and the pain suppresants quickly kicked in. As a final act, she threw the knife from the window, sending it falling down into the urban abyss.

Staggering out of the observation room, blood pooling around her clothes. This quickly grabbed the attention of her cousins and siblings attending the event, who brought her to a table.

"Karduk... the damned traitor..." She muttered, clutching her chest.

And Harsu will be none the wiser that I've made my move... perhaps it takes a lunatic to outmaneuver a lunatic. I shall pick the Archprince, and they will be subordinate to me.

Friends, or Something

Xandle Building, Morhatten, Torch City, Federal States of Euphemie

2 February, A.C. 391

Dana Matthews

"I'm impressed with your home." Bianka looked about the space, admiring the Akhmanari hieroglyphs and two marble statues of Clyde Matthews in the living room.

"Oh! Thank you. It's... my father's work, mostly. He's rarely here, so I always have this floor to myself." Dana explained, amazed the Tangaliroan girl had no qualms with coming over after school. "You could even, like, stay around if you wanted to."

"But only my home has ISB protection." Bianka reminded Dana, indirectly rebuffing her offer.

"Huh?" Dana was confused. "ISB protection?"

"Do you know why I was absent from school for almost two weeks?" Bianka questioned. Before Dana could answer, she continued. "There was an attempt on my life. A federal marshal saved me, but I still don't know for certain if I'm safe."

"I'm sorry about that." Dana lowered her head, visibly troubled by the girl's situation.

"You don't need to be. I'm all right, for now." She answered.

Dana felt pity for Bianka's situation, yet at the same time felt a longing to assuage the girl's ills somehow.

"It is also a beautiful view from here." Bianka watched the Morhatten cityscape below from the glass windows. The Atlantic Economic Center's construction site had expanded by a few stories on all three towers, indicating some progress had been made. "Anyway, you said you had some homework you needed help with?" She said, looking away from the skyline and back to the room.

"Ah, well— yes. I have a class on the FS government and its structure, you see, and—"

"Excellent." Bianka joined Dana at the couch at the center of the living room. "I happen to also have that class."

They'd swiftly gone over the packet, Bianka's help making the questions almost seem trivial in the process. Her way with things and her swift wit had been unlike anything Dana had seen, and oddly Dana herself seemed to be learning as well.

"What are Sam and Sophie up to?" Bianka leaned in, seemingly curious on Dana's friends.

"Oh— you know them?" Dana was taken aback by the question, surprised that Bianka had, to some degree, shown interest in her life.

"You talk about them a lot. Maybe I'll talk to them one day? They sound like pretty good friends of yours."

"I, uh, didn't invite them today, but maybe this Friday..."

"Ah, you said earlier they'd come later." Bianka smiled, almost as if knowingly. "It is fine, however. I can meet them Friday. Or do you not want me to?"

"I lied.." Dana grew a little red from her slip-up. "It's just... I wanted to get to know you a little better, you know? That's— that's why I invited you over. Sorry."

"I'm flattered you find me that interesting, Dana. Am I that much a curiosity to you?" Bianka asked.

"You're so cool. It's like your life is something from a movie, I mean—" She hesitated. "I guess I wanna be more like you, and, like, I know you're going through a lot, but, I want to.. be there for you. I mean, we're friends, right?"

The response had taken Bianka aback, yet she'd almost instantly regained her composure, and replied calmly in turn. "Some struggles are meant to be walked alone. There are some things I will not talk about, and for good reason."

"Of course, I'm sorry." Dana nodded sheepishly. The girl was especially direct with her words, reminding Dana who was in control of the conversation. Everything Bianka had the desire to tell her was done so voluntarily, and she could withhold as she pleased. Regardless of where she was bound to go in life, she seemed predestined to lead.

"What do you want to know, though?" She asked.

"Your story. The long version."

Sunset

FSS Alexandria (CVN-115)

3 February, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

The evening sky bathed the FSS Alexandria in orange, light crests of red and pink creating surreal shades in the sky. Billy stood at the walkway, watching the sunlit sea glimmer.

Billy already knew who it was when he heard footsteps behind him. Marie joined him, like many times before, and watched the sea. "Moments like these could last forever, dont'cha think?" She said.

There was a strange tension between the two that hadn't existed before. Now that he'd thought about it, it'd been there ever since the Sanjari missile attack.

"Yeah, I wish they would." He seemed to hesitate before continuing. "Awhile back, you asked if we were friends."

"Yeah. I need someone to confide in... I can trust you, right?"

"Of course you can."

"I've been having these nightmares... I'm flying in this fighter aircraft, like nothing I've ever seen before. Suddenly, these rounds cut through the cockpit. Nearly decapitates me. I lose control, I'm falling... then I'm standing before this girl, who's cryin'... and I put a bullet in her head. Then the world was on fire, and the last thing I saw was a flag burning in a city I'd never seen.." Marie shook her head. It's scary, it all felt so real."

"Maybe it's your guilty conscience, Colonel?"

"I'm afraid, Billy." She said. "These dreams always end with me dying in the most terrible ways. I don't want to die." She embraced him tightly, sniffles turning to sobs.

"Maybe all this flyin' and war is leaving us psyched out. We've seen some pretty fucked up shit happen. Maybe this is the byproduct of it?" Billy asked. The truth was, Billy was having dreams, too. An Oriental city in flames, a school, and two girls whose faces seemed almost a blur in his mind's eye.

Yet he held his superior in that moment, almost as if knowingly, consoling her, for he knew he shared her plight.

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Jan 06, 2019 1:22 am

Haqiqah Pocket

Sanjari No-Fly Zone H10

4 February, A.C. 391

Sgt. William 'Billy' Another-One-Bites-the-Dust Tora C. Reeves
VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"

The Department of Defense had been greatly pleased by the outcome of Operation Yellowcake, and had thus authorized the Federal Marine Corps and the Federal Army to conduct a joint assault on Haqiqah to destroy the Sanjari 33rd "Lions of Haqiqah" Royal Guard Division. The goal of the operation was simple: to alleviate the situation in Qarik by destroying forces that could still, hypothetically, strike Euphemie's ally.

Much of the city had been reduced to ruin by tribal infighting, which had largely culminated in genocide committed by pro-Harsu and anti-Harsu aligned tribes. Following the initial days of ethnic violence, however, the 33rd Division had swept in and instated martial law, evacuating the civilian population upstream to the town of Lassum-dar. Now, Haqiqah housed a good amount of SRBM launchers, which were being utilized by the Sanjaris to harass the Qarikis.

Morale there was low, however, as it was said much of the soldiers occupying the ruined city had become addicted to a drug called 'Pamyat', and a series of 'drug-running militias' had formed across the vicinity of Haqiqah, which the Euphemian military had oddly been ordered to not regard as hostile unless fired upon.

VFA-125 moved forth, backed by VAQ-202. Aside from them, the 18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard", the 309th Air Support Group, the 303rd Air Support Group, the 661st Air Support Group, the 904th Fighter Wing, VFA-111 and the 4th Bomb Wing were in the area, enforcing Euphemian domination of the AO.

The Sanjaris were challenging this particularly large aerial deployment, sending even the most obsolete of their ASF-364 'Namtara' twelfth-generation fighter aircraft to the frontline.

The strategic aspect of the fight mattered little to Billy, however. He was here to do to his job, and his job was to help his WSO engage the enemy. If Sanjar's aircraft were to retreat in a fight of this scale, it would end all notions of Sanjari aerial supremacy — if there'd ever been one in the first place.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "With Sanjar moving to conserve their newer aircraft, we're facing the enemy on purely numerical grounds. These aircraft have less advanced electronics than their cousins, but do not underestimate the skill of the Sanjari fighter pilot."

"Somethin' about this doesn't feel right." Marie said, anxiety in her voice. "Only forty aircraft?"

Indeed, she was correct. On the edge of the RWR, Billy could only see forty blips on the approach. "They're gettin' desperate, so what?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Amn. A. del Rio] /// - "Good luck, guys!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "We don't need luck. We've got this one in the bag!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Lt. M. Basset] /// - "I would not be convinced of this operation being the safest one we've done."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VAQ-202] - [EF-19G Archer | #18373] - [Col. C. Greaves] /// - "Let's roll."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "Now the Sanjaris fucked up!"

They continued pressing on, explosions dotting the ruined cityscape of Haqiqah as the bombs began striking their targets with precision accuracy. The least Billy could do is watch the event take place at the horizon's edge.

There would be no visual concealment from the cloudline, as it was a beautiful, clear dawn.

"What'll it be?" Billy leaned back in his seat, relaxed. "After this, I mean. I here they brought in some new cabinets at the Alexandria's arcade. There's this new one, I hear. Planet Hunt. Bet I can get a higher score."

"What're you betting?"

"Guess we'll find out when we get back."

One particular 15-aircraft group moved ahead of the 25 other aircraft, quickly entering range.

/// [SJRFOR] - [34th Tactical Fighter Squadron "Muret"] - [ASF-364 | #39341Q] - [Unknown] /// - "Come and strike us, cowardly Euphemians!"

It took only a matter of seconds for Marie to lock onto one of the approaching Sanjari fighters, a single ARGO missile soaring off to meet its target, culminating in an explosion.

/// [SJRFOR] - [34th Tactical Fighter Squadron "Muret"] - [ASF-364 | #39213Q] - [Unknown] /// - "Our radar can't see shit! We're screwed! Evade! Evade!"

The destruction of the first aircraft quickly made the others realize their error as they came within range, swerving and performing evasive maneuvers in vain as they were destroyed — of the group, one survived with its left wing barely intact, swiftly retreating east.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "At this rate, we'll have won this one in twenty minutes."

The ground was dotted with plumes of smoke now, as the scorched husks of Sanjari units obliterated by Euphemian bombings burned away in the sands of the desert.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [18th Bomb Wing "Death's Vanguard"] - [B-64H Palisade | #108947] - [Maj. L. Stewart] /// - "Armored platoons have been dealt with!"

"What the shit?" Marie gasped behind Billy, bringing his attention to the RWR.

"Huh?—" Billy glanced to the RWR, noting the mass of red blips that were readily approaching. There were at least a hundred of them, coming in from practically every direction in the east.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205782] - [Sgt. W. Reeves] /// - "Are you getting this?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205363] - [Sgt. M. Thurmond] /// - "What the shit?!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Amn. A. del Rio] /// - "They didn't teach us about this.."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Sgt. J. Trippe] /// - "So we awaken the nest."

From the ground, a flurry of missiles climbed into the skies. They soon would reach the level of the air battle itself...

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "Sanjari Arim-II SRBMs have been launched."

...and as they soared past, aluminium chaff was released from their sides, having an almost-immediate effect on the radars of the Euphemian aircraft in the sky.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #204671] - [Amn. A. del Rio] /// - "Chaff?!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Sgt. J. Trippe] /// - "I admire their ingenuity."

"Fucking hell." Billy muttered. Without radar, things were completely different — the same could also be said

/// [SJRFOR] - [56th Tactical Fighter Squadron "Kussurihu"] - [ASF-364 | #30113Q] - [Unknown] /// - "You meet your end here, imperialist!"

The idea, at least for the time being, would be to evade the oncoming enemy aircraft until the chaff subsided. With a simple wingover, he'd set their F-13D on a westbound course.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205782] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "VFA-125, turn back, west."

Marie ordered the squadron to follow suit, bringing them on a Qarik-bound course. As they soared past the Qarik frontier, radar had returned to normal — presumably now that they were out of the cascade of chaff in the combat AO.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Fleet] - [FSS Alexandria BG] - [FSS Haven Clarke (DDG-362)] - [Cpt. H. Reynolds] /// - "The Sanjari missiles are outta chaff! We'll use our ABM systems to take 'em down."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "An interesting strategy, indeed."

A few explosions erupted in the sky, which Billy could see from his canopy.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205782] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "VFA-125, turn back east."

VFA-125 left Qarik's city sights, migrating eastward back to the scene of the conflict.

The chaff was beginning to descend now, becoming moreso a problem for ground air defense systems than the fighters themselves.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Sgt. J. Trippe] /// - "Good call, Colonel."

The other Euphemian fighters had pursued a similar strategy, and as they'd returned the tables had turned back to Euphemie's favor. As the duo's Hexmaiden flew forward, two ARGOs were launched from its hardpoints, striking down two Sanjari aircraft as it advanced forward.

It was a bit over a hundred Euphemian aircraft, against a rapidly decreasing quantity of Sanjari aircraft.

Any poetic eye would compare the explosions and tracer fire, which filled the darkened sky as the sun rose on the horizon, to be like the stars in the sky. Death was being waged on a scale unlike ever before — this was a modern war.

With the circumstances of the battle quickly shifting, morale had seemingly broke among the Sanjaris, the remaining thirty aircraft beginning to flee east.

/// [SJRFOR] - [33rd "Lions of Haqiqah" Royal Guard Division] - [12th Armored Regiment] - [Unknown] /// - "Abandon the city! This is hopeless!"

/// [SJRFOR] - [33rd "Lions of Haqiqah" Royal Guard Division] - [5th Infantry Regiment] - [Unknown] /// - "Unknown militias are attacking us in the city! What the fuck is going on? Please! Report—"

B-64H Palisade bombers continued their campaign of relentless destruction against Sanjari forces in the desert, and it seemed the Sanjari will was beginning to falter.

/// [SJRFOR] - [33rd "Lions of Haqiqah" Royal Guard Division] - [HQ Regiment] - [Unknown] /// - "All remaining units, retreat along the Arslan Freeway. Fire upon any and all hostiles you come across."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [FS 1st Fleet] - [FSS Alexandria BG] - [FSS Haven Clarke (DDG-362)] - [Cpt. H. Reynolds] /// - "We're beginning bombardment of Sanjari ground assets."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Sgt. J. Trippe] /// - "It would appear the Sanjaris are retreating."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #205782] - [Col. M. Felix] /// - "Their tactics have changed. Nobody's been ballsy enough to do something like that — would've gotten us killed if we hadn't turned back."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [VFA-125 "Martin's Crusaders"] - [F-13D Hexmaiden | #206766] - [Lt. M. Basset] /// - "Do not attribute to unit adaptation what can merely be attributed to a change in command staff."

/// [SJRFOR] - [33rd "Lions of Haqiqah" Royal Guard Division] - [HQ Regiment] - [Unknown] /// - "Shit! They're here!"

Sanjari comms went quiet for a moment after a brief crescendo of screams and gunfire, before a new voice spoke.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [Presidential Order of Patriotism] - [Action branch] - [Col. A. Marlow] /// - "Gentlemen, welcome to Haqiqah."

/// [EUPHFOR] - [668th Air Control Wing] - [1777th Airborne Air Control Squadron] - [E-901 Skyking | #103702] - [Lt. M. Kikuchi] /// - "The Presidential Order?"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [3rd Marine Division] - [3rd Marine Regiment] - [MBT-M4A4 [HC] Marshall] - [GSgt. H. Cruz] /// - "The Order's work alright. It's a fuckin' slaughter here. Dead Sanjis everywhere."

/// [SJRFOR] - [33rd "Lions of Haqiqah" Royal Guard Division] - [12th Armored Regiment] - [Unknown] /// - "What the fuck?! We're under attack by Euphemian aircraft!"

/// [EUPHFOR] - [303rd Air Support Group] - [AC-120U Phantom | #0334] - [Lt. J. Stryker] /// - "Guns guns guns!"

The Arslan Freeway, bound east for the Sanjari capital, was bathed in gunfire from the heavens as A-13 Lucifer CAS aircraft and AC-120U Phantom gunships pelted the asphalt with ordnance.

Billy watched the scene erupt through his thermal camera, feeling a strange dread as he watched chaos erupt among the Sanjari lines, those caught up in the traffic jam of destroyed vehicles attempting to escape — only to be destroyed in kind. Soon came the BGM-606 Battleaxe cruise missiles launched by the fleet, which served only to further decimate the Sanjari retreat.

/// [EUPHFOR] - [NACC, FSS Alexandria] /// - "All objectives fulfilled. All units, RTB."

As they turned away from the destruction, Billy couldn't help but feel stricken with guilt at the sight.

"This... this is terrible." He quietly muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the white noise of the cockpit.

"You say somethin'?" Marie asked.

"Nothing. How about the Arcade when we get back?"

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - MRF-387 Tusara - The MRF-387 Tusara is a twin-engine supermaneuverable multirole Sanjari fighter aircraft of Tangaliroan origin. The original Tangaliroan export models were heavily modified to develop an aircraft that could stand toe-to-toe with the Euphemian F-13D Hexmaiden and F/A-127 Vampire.

2 - AGM-606 ASCM-MR - The AGM-606 Air Strike Cruise Missile is an air-launched short-range, turbojet-powered variant of the BGM-606 Battleaxe cruise missile.

WFF: Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory [PRIVATE, IC]

WFF: Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory [PRIVATE, IC]

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