In Flanders Fields [IC/Closed]

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

This thread is a joint effort by me and Neue Regensburg, intending to show some of the political changes and conflicts within our nations in the aftermath of the Second Cornellian War. This thread is closed, except to members of The Cornellian Empire region. If you wish to get involved or make any kind of suggestion, please TG me. This thread may include some mature themes mostly related to war violence.

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Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Imperial Central News Building, Ministerial Broadcast Room

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Dochlov Zimmermann’s arrival at the ICN building was met with a sense of melancholy from all quarters. His private advisors were as grey as usual but the young fellow who showed him to the Ministerial Broadcast Room did so with a sense of dour reverence and even Sir Jasper Harris, the usually jovial and sarcastic Cabinet Secretary, was rather stiff.

Even the Chairman of the Imperial Broadcasting Network welcomed Zimmermann with: “I’m sorry that it has come to this, Prime Minister.”

“Oh?” Zimmermann had replied, “I’m bloody not.” He broke off the conversation and sat himself down in one of the two brocade armchairs which furnished the room. “Are we ready he asked?”

“Ready when you are, Prime Minister.” An aide affirmed.

“Right.”

"Count Zimmermann declares his official resignation as Prime Minister"
His Imperial Majesty's Government

His Imperial Majesty's Government
Count Dochlov Zimmermann - Prime Minister - DOCHLOV

---

[DOCHLOV:] Good Afternoon. I have to speak to you today about a matter which is very important to me and which has caused a great deal of anxiety amongst my government. The office of Prime Minister.

[DOCHLOV:] When I was elected as Leader of the Conservative Party in 2006, I vowed to lead my party into government and to lead this country with prudence and pride. I vowed to lead a government of the people which engaged with the Commons and respected the old and trusted institutions of our nation. Fourteen years on, with seven years of government under my belt, I fully believe that I have done just that. My government has led this country through seven years of immense change. A new monarch and new troubles which we, as a nation, have had to face with courage and determination.

[DOCHLOV:] With our allies beside us we have faced against many challenges and overcome them. Even when the result has not been to our benefit, we have persevered, survived and, often, triumphed. I am honoured to have served the people of Vionna-Frankenlisch as Prime Minister and I am eternally grateful to the people, to my party and to our loyal allies within the Empire and outside of it, for making my years as Prime Minister some of the finest days of Vionna-Frankenlisch.

[DOCHLOV:] However, one cannot serve forever. With the last few months of conflict in mind, I have decided that my tenure as Prime Minister has reached its end. It is time to hand over the reigns of government to a younger, fresher, yet still experienced hand to lead the Empire through the difficulties that may follow. The Conservative Party will enter a period of leadership election, which will decide on the next leader and, ultimately, Prime Minister. During this time, the country will be led, temporarily, by a Provisional Government formed by my trusted allies in the Imperial Party. I do not doubt for a moment that Mister Astron is equal to the task.

[DOCHLOV:] From here I will return home to 11 Parliament Square and, tomorrow morning at Eleven o’clock, I will place my signature on the official resignation papers and leave that building for the final time. All my hopes and prayers are with my successor and with the Provisional Government. My premiership has been long and fulfilling and I cannot wait to return to Gestoria, to spend my days catching up with the gardening I have missed these past seven years. This has been the honour of my life, and I thank the people of this great country for sticking with me for all this time. God Save the King.

[New Edom]

Padan-Aran
New Edom

Count Thomas Lalery, Minister ofFinance, was driven in his state car to the estate of the Princess Imperial, Jocasta, on a bright sunny day, the same upon which Zimmerman was interviewed. He reclined in his seat, smoking a cigar, reflecting on his mission and the latest reports from the various development committees that were consuming his mind. Upon his arrival, he descended from the car, receiving the bows from chauffeur and estate servants as his due, and went to the door. He left Sergeant Delian, his driver-bodyguard, outside.

The doorman, bowing deeply, led Lalery to the atrium, where the Princess was sitting with some attendants standing discreetly nearby, while she was reading a book. “My dear cousin,” she said, glancing up at him as he entered. “Is this official business?”

“It is more of an informal matter, some questions I had for you,” he replied, moving in to kiss her fair-olive tinted cheek. She angled her cheek towards him, though there was little affection between them.

“Then come this way.” she rose and as he followed, he could not help but admire the way that she moved. She had a walk, like her older sister’s that was both graceful and provocative; its sway emphasized by her long dark hair, which was tied back that morning in a tail that hung down as far as her very shapely buttocks. These and her long legs were clearly delineated by the gown she wore, a sheer close=pleated Greek one of the type seen in classical Greek vase paintings. Armlets banded her bare upper arms, and a faint smell of lilac surrounded her.

She had led him to the library, where works of classic literature, including many theological works, adorned the shelves. A plate of fruit and glasses of wine with a bottle were brought to them, and then a single nude male servant, Gaeton, stood at the door.

Lalery was an impatient man, most un-Edomite in many ways, but even he felt bound to eat a slice of pear, compliment the wine, and ask after the health of Jocasta’s single child and Prince Michael before getting to business.

“You tell me how he is,” he said with a faint smile. “After all, you see more of him than I do.”

Prince Michael was more often to be found these days at his club or other entertainments in Fineberg than in Padan-Aran. The Princess did not seem displeased with this.

“And your child?” like the Royal Griffon, that huge flightless ancient bird of prey, Princess Jocasta had a single chick, on which she apparently doted.

“He thrives, of course,” said Jocasta. “He will be a great...Prince someday.”

He nodded as though she had not caught herself about to say another word. “So. Count Sharra is going to retire.”

“This is confirmed?” she idly swirled wine in her glass, seeing how it caught the light.

“Oh yes. Sharra does not lie,” said Lalery. He took a sip of his own wine again. “This is very good, by the way. And I don’t lie about that either. Anyway, yes, he said he was tired, and he had served his country for years, but he had only wanted to keep in office until the King-Emperor was well enough to receive reports and so on. He wants to go back to being Minister of the Interior, which is a big enough job for anyone.”

“He is a dutiful but gentle man,” said Princess Jocasta. “Why are you telling me?”

“I want at all costs to prevent anyone advising Elijah to appoint Nicanor again. But who else is there? They’ll never let it be Enoch, he’s too lazy--”

“Agreed…”

“--and I’d be as controversial a choice as Nicanor. What then, the elected President as some in the Deputies want? We’re not ready for that--”

“Unthinkable anyway.”

“But we’ve won the war,” continued Lalery. “So Unwerth would work as a proposal. And coming from both of us, it would be a show of unity that would please our Monarchs.”

Princess Jocasta’s face was a beautiful, serene mask. “Indeed? Why would you propose Unwerth?”

“If he guarantees certain things, I would support him,” said Lalery.

“Like what?” Jocasta asked, looking bored.


“Trans-Acheronian Railroad Project. Bids on contracts for Kehrahn. Leave the Hostillian rebellion to the Hostillians unless the rebels might actually be able to march on the capital. Leave the Chamber alone.” Lalery said.

Princess Jocasta considered. “Those are reasonable. I have no argument against them.”

“And I want him to resign as Minister of Defense, give it to Augrim or Galt,” said Lalery.

“What for?” she creased her brow in a frown.

“It will distract him from his greater responsibilities,” said Lalery.

She smiled. “I think not. I like him where he is. Was that all?”

“I want to be the one who suggests it to Elijah.” Lalery said.

She considered a moment and then smiled. “That suits me, dear cousin. Very well. Shall you stay for lunch?”

Lalery did not want to, but he recognized her wisdom; Gaeton would of course be discreet and their lunch, and subsequent gossip about family and property and other matters would cover why they had met.

[Mount Zeon]

Frankenlisch

“It arrived this morning, sir, in the diplomatic bag.”

Thomas Hulbertson, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon to the Empire of Vionna-Frankenlisch, rose from his chair and stepped out from behind the mahogany desk that dominated his office. A large window behind him framed a view of the city, with the flags of a half a dozen nations visible from the other embassies nearby. The walls were adorned with the hallmarks of a long diplomatic career, including pictures of Thomas and various dignitaries of the Empire. Other pictures showed a small but elegant country home, his family’s estate back in Mount Zeon which they had owned since the days of colonial rule in the eighteenth century. Hulbertson had been chosen for this position because of his Frankenlischian heritage. A painting on the wall showed his ancestor leading a doomed last stand against the victorious forces of the Zeonese revolutionaries. Yet despite that service in opposition to independence, that ancestor’s family had remained and assimilated into the new nation.

Now, as Ambassador Hulbertson accepted the package from his aide, Mount Zeon was drawing closer to Vionna-Frankenlisch than it had since the days when the two were joined in the bonds of colonial rule. Thomas carefully peeled back the paper packaging until he could remove it entirely and discard it in the wastebin near the door. He looked down at the hefty leather-bound volume with a mixture of awe and pride. For, after all, he had helped to craft the lengthy document that was now in his hands. He ran a hand over the insignias of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon and the Empire of Vionna-Frankenlisch on the cover. Underneath the symbols were the embossed letters that spelled out the name of the volume’s contents: The Comprehensive Treaty of Friendship and Commerce.

The acronym CTFC had found little purchase, but everyone who was “in the know” by now understood what was meant when reference was made to “the Treaty.” It was, quite simply, the agreement between Mount Zeon and Vionna-Frankenlisch, covering areas of both economics and geopolitics. It was the sum of efforts that had been proceeding, behind the scenes and with little fanfare, since before the outbreak of the Second Cornellian War. Since the Prophet’s Revolution had destroyed the old government of Mount Zeon and established the Kingdom of the Prophet Matthias, trade and diplomatic relations between the two states had become a mess of treaties, protocols, agreements, accords, and informal understandings each covering individual subjects. Now, as the dust settled on the Deadoran war and both Mount Zeon and Vionna-Frankenlisch looked to the future, the time had been deemed right for a more comprehensive agreement to replace that tangled mess with something more streamlined.

The Comprehensive Treaty of Friendship and Commerce was a reaffirmation and extension of existing economic policies and an expansion of Mount Zeon’s diplomatic relationship with the Empire which had sent forth the first colonists to settle the lands of the modern Kingdom. Mount Zeon would be granted the status of Observer State in the Frankenlischian Commonwealth. It would not require Mount Zeon to make any concession of loyalty to the Imperial system, but it would solidify a relationship that went back to the Kingdom’s very founding and place Mount Zeon under the umbrella of a defensive pact with the Empire. It was a risky move for Vionna-Frankenlisch, who would take on the obligation of coming to the defense of a nation considered odious by many other states in the region, especially Shrailleen. Yet Mount Zeon occupied a strategically valuable position in north Acheron, and in the event of another major war the Kingdom could become a valuable base for Imperial forces on the continent.

The second half of the Treaty covered the economic relationship between Mount Zeon and Vionna-Frankenlisch. Much of it was merely a restating of existing agreements, since this Treaty was intended to replace almost all previous documents. Yet it contained its own share of new clauses. Mount Zeon and Vionna-Frankenlisch would enact substantial reductions in the tariffs and barriers currently levied on each other’s goods. New protocols in the Treaty would create streamlined procedures covering the temporary and long-term movement of people between the Kingdom and the Empire. Most importantly, Frankenlischian investors would be greatly pleased to find a host of clauses intended to promote and protect their investments in the Kingdom. They could establish their factories in Mount Zeon with the knowledge that they would be guaranteed most-favored nation treatment and full protection and security from expropriation. The Treaty established a bilateral commission to hear disputes, taking any legal issue between a Frankenlischian investor and the Mount Zeon government out of the Kingdom’s religious courts and before a body that contained Frankenlischians as well. Finally, the Treaty ensured that Imperial taxes paid by the Frankenlischians on their holdings in Mount Zeon could be credited against the taxes they would owe to the Kingdom, greatly lessening and in some cases totally eliminating the sum owed to New Jerusalem. New capital investments in Mount Zeon would be exempt from Zeonese taxes for a period after their creation as well.

It was a document which placed Mount Zeon in a position of partial economic subordination to Vionna-Frankenlisch. Frankenlischian investors would very quickly understand that they could now invest in the creation or expansion of factories in Mount Zeon, use relatively cheaper Zeonese labor in those factories to manufacture goods made with cheaply imported Imperial raw materials, and then sell those finished goods back into the domestic markets of the Empire. Mount Zeon’s cities would become grand workhouses for the Empire. In return, Mount Zeon received comparatively little. Yet Mount Zeon’s leadership had little interest in presiding over a wealthy mercantile nation: so long as enough capital was generated to maintain Mount Zeon as it currently stood, they were content. Greed, after all, was a sin. What both sides got was a means of avoiding competition with CTO nations, which neither Mount Zeon nor Vionna-Frankenlisch desired to join. The benefits of the Treaty, it was hoped, would draw trade away from potentially more efficient partners and keep it between the Empire and the Kingdom. Additionally, it provided another strong link between Mount Zeon and Vionna, ensuring that the small theocracy would not be easily abandoned by its ancient colonial master. Frankenlischian investors would pose no threat to the social order of Mount Zeon, and the money they spent on building and expanding factories would provide jobs for the increasing urban populations of the Kingdom.

The stop-start, behind-the-scenes negotiations had finally come to an end, and the Treaty was ready to be presented for approval and ratification. Unfortunately, that portion of the process was the most fraught with peril. The government of Vionna-Frankenlisch was in flux; the Prime Minister had announced his resignation, and while his allies would retain control of the government in the short term Thomas had seen the demonstrations. Hungry wolves prowled at the edge of the campfire’s light. A treaty like this could become a lightning rod for opposition leaders and the new P.M. might not want to risk his first major act of foreign policy becoming an albatross around his neck. In Mount Zeon, where Father John had no need for an elected body like Parliament, these concerns were non-issues. The Treaty already had approval from him, his Council, and the influential citizens of the Kingdom. Thomas hoped the Lord would bless this endeavor.

To: His Imperial Majesty's Government
From: The Embassy of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon

Good day,

I have just received the finalized text of the Comprehensive Treaty of Friendship and Commerce from my government. I am quite pleased to know that the years of negotiations between our two nations have finally borne ripened fruit. I have dispatched a copy of the Treaty to your offices for your review.

While I understand that this is a delicate moment in your Government, I do hope that the many benefits of this Treaty to your nation, and the strength of the long friendship between Vionna-Frankenlisch and Mount Zeon, will carry this agreement to a swift and successful ratification. It is the opinion of my government that the sooner it is entered into force the better, to allow the aforementioned benefits to begin accruing to both parties at the earliest possible moment.

Your most humble servant,
Thomas Hulbertson
Ambassador from Mount Zeon

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

To: The Embassy of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon
From: Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister

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Greetings, Ambassador,

You have no doubt been made aware of the recent government shift in Vionna-Frankenlisch and I must say that I am honoured to be picking things up where my predecessor, Larry Tristram, left off. The Imperial Party has established a Provisional Government, on the request of former Prime Minister, Count Zimmermann.

I have taken the time to study the CTFC and I find it wholly acceptable. It is a testament to the long friendship between Mount Zeon and the Empire that such arrangements can be finalised in the wake of this past conflict. I am delighted that the short-sightedness of the Regensburger Government in refusing to become a Commonwealth Observer has not been an issue for Mount Zeon.

I have just left the first meeting of the new cabinet (the make-up of which I have provided for you below), the majority of ministers are former backbenchers that were considered experienced enough for the task although several of us are party grandees who have retained ministerial positions. One of these, with the blessing of the Prime Minister, wished for me to put a proposal to your government which I trust you will forward to them.

The Ministry of Defence, with the approval of the Ministry of Imperial Affairs and Imperial Palace, wish to begin the formation of military units from the Imperial territories of Espicuta and Prodava. Percival Mercer has asked me to put a request to your government concerning the use of Zeonese NCOs to aid in the training of forces from these countries. He further asked me to convey his respects to your government and to commend them for their brave work in Deadora, particularly in the relief of the Imperial Expeditionary Force at Entrylli.

I hope that this communique has left Mount Zeon in no doubt as to the state of the Imperial Government at present and I trust that you are well assured of the continued support of this Ministry.

Yours, with the deepest of respects,
Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister

---

Provisional Cabinet
Prime Minister: Arthur Astron
Foreign Minister: Casimir Stawski
Chancellor of the Exchequer: David Fairburn
Home Secretary: Charlotte Talbert
Defence Minister: Percival Mercer
Education Minister: August Foster
Health Minister: Bernard Murgatroyd
Welfare Minister: Catherine Devin
Imperial Affairs Minister: Sir Phillip Green
Transport Minister: Zoey Renton
Industry Minister: Sir Russel Stern
Finance Minister: Kenneth Steed
Chief Whip (of the Imperial Party): Astra Harley

[Republica De Gran Chaco]

Gallandia

The sun began to rise over the fields of golden wheat and the green woods. Outside a rooster crowed greeting the morning. Light filtered in through the open window and a breeze brought the sweet smell of alfalfa into the room. A muscular man with long yellow hair stirred at the sound of the rooster and smiled. He was entangled with a young brunette woman and he gave her a soft kiss on the ear.

She moaned softly, “Hmmm, we are late to greet the day my sweet.”

“Let the day come and drag us out of bed then.” The man said and held her tighter.

Just then as if some kind of cruel prophesy had been told, there came a knock on the door, “Javert let me go, I must answer the caller.”

“No, I think not sweet one, let him wait, a punishment for interrupting bliss.” The man said.

The girl giggled and struggled out of his embrace, “You have me captured, what ever shall I do?”

“You shall submit to my will.” He said and gave her a little nip on the ear.

“Hehehe.” The knocking resumed louder this time, “Oh Javert please! Let go, release me from your power.”

He let the girl free and rolled over onto his back.

The girl got up and put on a white nightgown and robe and slippers. She exited the room. Javert placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes listening to the exchange. He could not make out the words, but a man with a deep voice he could pick out of crowd was speaking. He sighed knowing that he truly must wake. The girl came in, “Javert, Maurice is here, he says that he must speak to you. I am putting the coffee on.”

Javert sat up and shifted to the edge of the bed. He put on his undergarments and a robe and slippers of his own and pulled back his long hair and tied it into a pony tail. He stood and walked out of the bedroom and saw his old friend sitting at the rustic little wooden table smoking a cigarette and sipping on some coffee. Nicole, his girl, had a cast iron frying pan out and was preparing some eggs and sausage. The room was filled with the scents of breakfast and tobacco.

Javert sat down and pulled out his own cigarette pack and lit one. Nicole handed him a mug of coffee and he sipped it, “What can I do for you my old friend.”

“I have just come back from a fight in Queimada. I met a man there who we can do business with. He is an import export man.” Maurice said.

Javert took a long drag on his cigarette and studied his friend. He wore a tight fitting cream colored turtleneck that showed his large and thickly muscled frame and contrasted with his dark skin. His parents had come from Dahamy, and he had grown up rough, finding his place in the boxing ring. His white eyes held a burning intensity that showed how much he loved his land, and how much he resented foreigners from ruling it.

Nicole placed plates of food in front of the men and announced, “I must get dressed and tend to the animals, I am already over late and they will not be happy with me.”

The girl left to get dressed and the men chatted a bit about recent news and Maurice’s fight in Queimada. Nicole came out in brown boots overalls, and a flannel shirt. She kissed Javert on the top of the head and then went out the back door.

“That will take her some time.” Javert said, “Tell me of your contact.”

“He can bring guns in.” Maurice said, “He has a boat.”

“How many?” Javert said.

“500 at a time he says. A mix, G3s and AKs. He said he would ask a friend about some machine guns and rockets, but I have not sourced them as of yet.” Maurice said.

“Ammunition for the guns?” Javert asked.

Maurice nodded, “Some, but he has a friend that can bring more in.”

“Good that is well. We must try to be quick with our build up but not sloppy. How many weapons have you gotten so far in your stores, my old friend?” Javert asked.

“Enough for half of the brothers that are sworn, but many are inconsistent. Many of the weapons are civilian models or old MAS-36. Some MAS-49, MAT-49, but not enough. This can help us greatly.” Maurice said.

“Yes should be enough to overwhelm the garrison. We have brothers working inside the base as well, we can easily overpower it. But it is not the time to speak of such things.” Javert said.

“Yes, brother. Tell your woman the breakfast was good. I must leave now.” Maurice said.

Javert stood and kissed him on the cheek, “Blessings brother, the time is growing ever closer. The time of the people to rise against the oppressors and live in freedom is near.”

“Yes brother, soon.” Maurice said and then left through the front door.

Javert went and shaved. He then dressed himself in a black turtleneck with white trousers. He tied his hair in a tight bun before spritzing himself with some cologne before placing a black beret on top of his head. He went out and found Nicole scattering corn for the chickens. He called out to her, “My dear, I am going into the village for a newspaper and some other things. I shall see you tonight.”

She blew him a kiss and Javert walked down the country lane humming to himself and contemplating the future of his nation.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Cabinet Room, 11 Parliament Square

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"So we're finally here, ladies and gentlemen," Arthur Astron stood behind the Prime Minister's chair at the head of the oval table with the grandest, proudest smile anyone had yet seen on the Leader of the Imperial Party's usual unreadable face. "Power, my friends, undivided power. We can rely on the emergency powers of the War Cabinet for another week or two and, after that, we can threaten and bribe our way through any difficulties thanks to the Conservatives."

The Provisional Cabinet shared a few faces with the Second Zimmermann Ministry which it followed from, Percival Mercer had remained as Minister of Defence, Sir Phillip Green had been promoted from Transport to Imperial Affairs (making him the third person to hold the position in as many weeks), David Fairburn had been made Chancellor and Catherine Devin had been promoted from Health to Welfare. With the notable exception of Astron himself, the rest of the cabinet were mainly prominent backbenchers who had been considered important to keep on side.

"We are all honoured to be here, Prime Minister." Remarked Astra Harley, whose pretty face bore a deep scar across the right cheek, marring its beauty like a vandalised portrait. The Imperial Chief Whip was a deeply intimidating woman. Her service in the Marienberg Uprising of 2015 had left her with her scars and a great deal of respect in Parliament, her closeness to Arthur Astron also made her untouchable as far as party politics were concerned. Besides, keeping the party in line was her job. The cabinet, dutifully, nodded and murmured in agreement.

"I'm sure you are," Astron smiled, warmly, "We have a monumental task ahead of us. We must prepare the country and the Empire for the uncertainty to come."

Sir Phillip Green, adjusting his purple bowtie, nodded in approval. "The Empire must be secured. The loss of New Columbia may represent a grave dent to Imperial confidence."

"We must smash the Reds, first," interceded the Home Secretary, Charlotte Talbert, who was securing her unkempt blonde mane back with a white ribbon. "Then run these nationalist bullies into the ground. Only then will we have peace at home."

Only now did Arthur Astron take his seat. Why he hadn't already, nobody could be certain. "We will need to approach every challenge swiftly and decisively," he affirmed, looking at nobody directly, "When the Conservatives decide which poor bastard is going to try to run the place, the people must remember that it was the Imperial Party which kept things steady." Astron took his pipe from a holder on the table and clamped down on it, lighting it with a match. "We need to shore up certain international relationships. Casimir, you've sent a reply to the Zeonese embassy?"

"I have." Casimir Strawski, replacing Larry Tristram as Foreign Minister, was almost the complete opposite of his predecessor. Tall, pencil-thin and deadly serious. He was an important figure for his influence over Eastern Vionnan MPs and was thus an easy choice for high ministerial office. Astron could not deny preferring the fat, jolly Tristram however.

"Good," the Prime Minister nodded. "We must look to our allies, I would like to shore things up with the Zeonese and the Regensburgers. The CTFC is a good start, a very good start in that direction. How about the Ayacan states?"

"Our cooperation in Deadora and Solisia may have ingratiated ourselves somewhat with the Chacanos. San Carlo, no doubt, still bears a grudge for the New Columbia affair." Strawski informed the cabinet. "I don't believe Lord Hotspur's government will wish to damage things with the Ayacan states by making overtures in our direction. Ashab and Queimada are irrelevant."

"Hmm. Thank you. I think our course is set then. We've done what we can, for now, where Mount Zeon is concerned. Regensburg must be brought back into the fold and I think the Chacanos are our best bet for beginning to mend things where the Allies are concerned." Arthur Astron decided. "I will ask the King about rescheduling his anniversary ball. It was cancelled due to the war but I think holding it now and inviting the Zeonese and Regensburgers would be a nice reminder of who their friends are."

---

Royal Communique of His Imperial Majesty, King James I

His Imperial Majesty King James Frederik Turrell, the first of his name, King of Vionna-Frankenlisch, Emperor of the Fallen Isles, Grand Imperiator of the Vionna-Frankenlischian Colonies and Dominions beyond the Seas, Elector of Grangenburg, Duly Appointed and Lawfully Elected Governor of Saint Gall, Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Military, Defender of the Andyist Faith and Lord Protector of the Realm.

---

To: Father John of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon
From: His Imperial Majesty King James I Turrell of Vionna-Frankenlisch
Security: Standard

---

Father,

It is my honour and single privilege to invite you, and any within your government and family who wish to attend, to Imperial Palace to attend the Imperial Anniversary Ball to celebrate my twenty-sixth year of marriage. The event will be attended by many great figures within the Imperial Forces and Government along with prominent noblemen so I hope that you may be willing and able to add your name to their ranks.

Date, time and details have been enclosed.

I hope that you will be able to attend and I send my deepest regards.

- James Frederick Turrell, King and Imperiator

---

Royal Communique of His Imperial Majesty, King James I

His Imperial Majesty King James Frederik Turrell, the first of his name, King of Vionna-Frankenlisch, Emperor of the Fallen Isles, Grand Imperiator of the Vionna-Frankenlischian Colonies and Dominions beyond the Seas, Elector of Grangenburg, Duly Appointed and Lawfully Elected Governor of Saint Gall, Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Military, Defender of the Andyist Faith and Lord Protector of the Realm.

---

To: King Peter IX of Neue Regensberg
From: His Imperial Majesty King James I Turrell of Vionna-Frankenlisch
Security: Standard

---

Majesty,

It is my honour and single privilege to invite you, and any within your government and family who wish to attend, to Imperial Palace to attend the Imperial Anniversary Ball to celebrate my twenty-sixth year of marriage. The event will be attended by many great figures within the Imperial Forces and Government along with prominent noblemen so I hope that you may be willing and able to add your name to their ranks.

Date, time and details have been enclosed.

I hope that you will be able to attend and I send my deepest regards.

- James Frederick Turrell, King and Imperiator

[Mount Zeon]

New Jerusalem

The capital of Mount Zeon remained in a festive mood. There had been prodigious celebrations upon the return of the two Zeonese divisions from their service in Kehrahn and Deadora. The combined strength of both units paraded down the main avenues of New Jerusalem, cheered by massive crowds of Zeonites eager to welcome their victorious soldiers home from Mount Zeon’s first real foreign war. Father John had inspected the troops, complimented the men on their achievements, and presented promotions and medals of commendation to men from lowly privates and NCOs all the way up to the colonels and generals who had commanded them. A memorial to the fallen was under construction, not too far from the palace-temple complex in the heart of the city.

In that palace-temple, however, the business of shepherding God’s chosen kingdom continued despite the triumph. While the national mood remained jubilant and celebratory, the men of Father John’s Council knew that more work needed to be done. Mount Zeon could not rest on its laurels, for its position was not secure. New Edom, Gran Chaco, these temporary allies of convenience were unreliable. They had plenty to consume their attention as the reconstruction of Kehrahn, Aedora, and Solisia got underway. Meanwhile, the Shrailleeni looked poised to not only place a puppet of their own choosing on the blood-soaked throne of Deadora, but they had brought the slumbering giant of Ghant out of hibernation. Mount Zeon needed powerful and committed allies to survive the feminist-matriarchal threat.

Thus, the Comprehensive Treaty of Friendship and Commerce with Vionna-Frankenlisch. They had not distinguished themselves in this last conflict. They had lost their Ayacan colony, suffered defeat at sea, and then turned their coats against their Deadoran partners. Yet their military remained large, and the Empire could be a bulwark which sheltered Mount Zeon from the wrath of the Shrai devil-women.

“The word from Frankenlisch is encouraging,” Foreign Minister James Pleasant reported as he passed out copies of the lengthy message from Casimir Stawski detailing the new government and the Zeonese ambassador’s attached report. “Ambassador Hulbertson expresses confidence that the Imperial government will remain friendly to us, at least for the immediate future.”

“What of that ranting woman, what was her name?” High Justice Jordan Pierson snapped his fingers twice, as if trying to spark a fire in his mind. “Alexis something?” The Ministry of Justice, as the national security arm of the Zeonite government, also held the responsibility for monitoring overseas threats. Most of that outward-facing apparatus was turned towards the matriarchal states, or the Zeonese expatriate organizations, but some attention was paid to the domestic politics of Mount Zeon’s neighbors and friends.

“Alexandra Edmont,” Pleasant read the name from Hulberton’s report. “Imperial League of Nationalists.” Pleasant quickly perused the Ambassador’s words before summarizing. “A potential issue in the long-term, especially considering its female leadership, to be sure. But not worth immediate concern, in his estimation.”

“More important is the overture for military cooperation,” Pleasant continued, shifting gears. “I’ll let the Grand Marshal explain.”

Grand Marshal Richard Truth cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in front of him. “The Vionnans want us to contribute veteran non-commissioned officers - sergeants and such - to train newly raised units in Espicuta and Prodava.”

Prodava was a familiar name to the men around the table; Zeonese volunteer forces had served under Vionna-Frankenlisch command during their war with the Prodavans in the 1990s. Many of those volunteers had been Mount Zeon Army officers on approved leave, and the experience they gained had been instrumental in modernizing the Army and preparing it for its use in Feminia and Kehrahn.

“Providing the men won’t be an issue,” Truth said. “Though there may be some issues, in regards to Espicuta.”

“It’s a matriarchal state,” Chief Councilor Jacob announced, cutting right to the chase.

“There are women officers,” Truth admitted. “But the rank and file of this army will be entirely male, as the Empire bars women from frontline enlisted service.”

“This might present an opportunity.” Malcom Dove, the Minister of Truth, said quietly to Father John. Dove sat on the Father’s left, his close proximity to the ruler representative of his role as head of the Church of the True Spirit and chief spiritual advisor to the Father. “Impart not only fighting skills, but also the Truth, to these soldiers. In time, who knows what fruit might grow from such seeds?”

Father John, his fingers steepled in front of him, nodded slowly. The old regime displaced by the Prophet’s Revolution had failed to maintain the loyalty of large swathes of the Army. It had been their undoing, in the end. While he had no interest in seeing Mount Zeon’s ally reduced in power or torn apart, a chance to potentially undermine a feminine society and create the possibility of another enlightened regime was tempting. And it could be done without openly provoking the Empire, in fact while working on the surface to strengthen it...

“We will grant the Empire’s request,” John announced to the table. “Grand Marshal, inform the Adjutant General and compile a list of possible candidates. As for command, Colonel Neville’s brother remains without an assignment, if I recall. He will take charge of the Episcutan force.”

“As you command, Father,” Grand Marshal Truth said with a bowed head. “And for Prodava?”

John made a noncommittal gesture. “That I leave to your judgement, Grand Marshal.”

“The second item concerning Vionna,” Pleasant said after a period of silence that indicated conversation on the subject was completed. “Is the invitation to the Imperial Anniversary Ball.”

This took far less time. John looked over to where Jacob was sitting, and his younger brother nodded.

To: Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister & Percival Mercer, Defence Minister
From: Richard Truth, Grand Marshal of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon
Subject: Advisors

---

Gentlemen,

The Kingdom of Mount Zeon is prepared to dispatch two groups of advisors to assist in the training of the newly formed Espicutan and Prodavan armed forces. Two groups of veterans from the recent campaigns in Kehrahn and Deadora have been assembled, and are prepared to depart and share their wisdom with the new soldiers of these territories.

Colonel Jason Neville will command the group which will operate in Espicuta, while Colonel Matthew Yates will take charge of the men sent to Provada. In all, we can provide roughly 400 advisors drawn from the ranks of the two Divisions which were deployed abroad, split into two groups of approximately 200. I hope this is satisfactory to the Empire’s needs and purposes.

Yours in Truth,
Richard Truth
Grand Marshal

To: His Imperial Majesty King James I Turrell of Vionna-Frankenlisch
From: Father John of Mount Zeon
Subject: Imperial Anniversary Ball

---

Your Majesty,

Your invitation to attend your Anniversary Ball is most welcome. I am greatly pleased to know that the relationship between our two nations, and between yourself and your wife, continue strong as we begin this new decade.

Unfortunately, I cannot attend in person. I made a vow before the people of Mount Zeon, as my father Joshua and his grandfather the Prophet Matthias did before me, that I would never leave the borders of the Kingdom while I reigned. I cannot break that vow, much as it pains me to miss such an occasion.

My brother and Chief Councilor Jacob will travel in my stead to attend the Ball, as will General Sien Truth, commander of the Zeonese forces which accomplished the opening of the land supply line to your Imperial Expeditionary Force in Entrylli.

Yours in Truth,
John
Father of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon

[Neue Regensburg]

Kronstadt, Neue Regensburg
Regenschloss

---

The King looked on furiously as his son stood in front of him. They were in his office, and the doors were shut. He took a sip from his glass of scotch… the bottle was quite near empty at this point, thanks to the Crown Prince’s stupidity. Then, the tirade began.

“You insurmountable fool! You have brought shame about our house and our family for a thousand years! How could you think it was a good idea to confront that Chacano bastard!? If they did not respond to official correspondence, do you really think your weak ass could do anything about it?! You constantly use your royal rank to your own benefit, I for one, HAVE HAD ENOUGH!”

The younger Peter opened his mouth, but was cut off. “Combat made me a man, son. Your bus got flipped over. Knocked out. Only because my generals wanted to make YOU look good, did you receive that damned medal and promotion. If you had been under my command, you would have been DEMOTED for your actions. First Lieutenant, my ass. Captain? That’s just ridiculous. You think war made you a man? Quite the opposite, your time in a warzone made you a bitch. We will have to fix that.”

Peter was shook, having rarely seen his father this angry. He said, “I just wanted to protect Sophia’s…”

The King shouted, “SILENCE!” He took a moment to compose himself. “You have not only failed to protect your sister’s honor, you have stained both hers and your own. The only way to purify such dishonor is through blood. You’re lucky the war has ended, or I would ship you off to the front lines right now, you worthless piece of shit. You will be King some day, which a position only strengthened by the fact that I have had to disinherit your sister thanks to your actions. However, in your current state, you are unworthy to lead a barony, let alone a kingdom.”

“Father, in the future I will strive…”

“In the future, you will become a man, one way or the other. There is no secondary option, son.”

A hurried aide rushed down the hallway, knocking furiously on the door. The King opened the door and gruffly asked, “What? What could you possibly want?”

“My apologies, Majesty, but the first report from the Ministry of Defense has come up on the performance of Regensburg in the war.” The elder Peter took one look at papers, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Minister von Wahlmann, summon the war cabinet.” He hung up the phone and said, “Peter, report to Regenwald. You will have a new assignment waiting for you very soon, Hauptmann.” Before the prince had a chance to say anything, the king walked out of the room.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Flemland, Kingdom of Gallandia
Outskirts of the city of Geldport

---

The poppies had bloomed late this year, the red flowers having blossomed at the end of July. They lined the roads with unkempt regularity, dotting the fields and gathering in bundles along pathways and ditches. Summer was always beautiful in Gallandia but, somehow, Flemland always outdid the mainland when it came to aesthetic delight. It was not just a natural beauty but also a human one; children fluttered through the fields much as the pretty, multi-coloured butterflies did and sunkissed girls with dainty feet sat at one with nature on the grassy, rolling hills of the island.

Everything was sublime, even the soldiers in their uniforms of pale blue seemed glowing with the seasonal joy. A detail headed from Port Hilton to Geldport sang a jaunty song in Gallic, even their officer joined in, his sword glinted dangerously as he waved it to the tune. Nobody could have expected the events that would come on the happy little island, nobody could imagine that the guns would shatter that beautiful season. Nobody could have predicted that the war-boots would trample the sunshine to dust or that the laughter of couples would be unheard beneath the rattle of drums and call of bugles.

But for now, the people of Flemland, most of them anyway, lived in simple peace. Many were simple peasants, working the land of the aristocracy. A million people called the island home, dwelling either in its main settlement of Geldport, in the second-largest town named Port Hilton, after the Frankenlischian Admiral Lord Hilton, or in the various farmsteads and villages that freckled the island’s rolling farmland.

There wasn’t much division between Flemlandish and mainland Gallandian culture, though Flemlanders had always displayed an arrogant superiority complex since the South Cornellian War, which cemented the Empire’s control over Gallandia and Gallandia’s control over Flemland. Though attempts had been made for a century to repress nationalistic sentiments, the national colours of the old Kingdom of Gelder, the red, black and gold, could be visible everywhere. Nationalist politicians like Jean-Jaques Massena spouted their gospel, unmolested as a result of the hypocritical anti-censorship edicts of Frankenlisch. The locals could at least be glad of one thing, the Communists of old had been wiped out after the bloody civil war of the 1970s. Nobody who valued his freedom in Gallandia admitted any leftist bias on pain of lynching by his neighbors or blacklisting by the government. A common political saying went: ’Nobody weeps for a Communist’. Indeed, nobody who knew what was good for them even admitted knowing one.

Once a popular alternative to the now dominant Jacobin movement, Deguerrist Communism, theorised by a Courville-born journalist, had not dared rear its head again since the purges of 1980. Spurred on by the restoration of the Vionna-Frankenlischian monarchy, and desperate to appease the feared King Edward III, King Alphonse of Gallandia had ordered a wave of brutality unparalleled in the Empire. A hundred thousand former Communist officials and supporters were put to death and the country, tired from years of bitter struggle which had seen a third of the population die or flee, revelled in their murder. One hundred thousand deaths had brought the House of Cationne the undying loyalty of the divided nobility, the full support of Frankenlisch and the adulation of anti-communists everywhere. The republicans in Gallandia, who had supported the government they hated in order to survive a threat which was even worse, groped for any common ground. The splintered movement could not decide if the King was a murderous tyrant or a coward who did not go far enough.

To this day, they could not find mutuality. The republicans were, unlike the communists that they unwillingly followed, drawn more to individuals than the movement as a whole. All of them despised the decadent aristocracy and most, albeit not all, longed to cut ties with Frankenlisch. But some supported Rolande Lannes and his moderates, some were far-Right Fabrerists, some even followed the example of Roger de Mowbare’s Liberals in Frankenlisch. They all vowed change, however. It would take time, it would take effort, it would almost certainly take many lives. Gallandia, the historians of the future would claim, was a great estate, her fields were plowed by millions, the blood of her people the only worthy seed.

[Mount Zeon]

Woodville Manor

Woodville had been the Neville family estate since the heady days of the Serene Republic of Mount Zeon, the state established after the successful war of independence against the Kingdom of Frankenlisch. The land had previously been owned by a member of the Frankenlischian gentry, who had fled for the safety of the Frankenlischian garrisons on the west coast when the war had come to the region and then later departed for his homeland. The Neville family had successfully laid claim to the territory and become the new lords of the manor. The patriarch of the Neville family now was Francis Neville, an old man battling the assault of time as valiantly as he could. He could take pride in the knowledge that his sons had both achieved great things: they had both led men in battle during the invasion of New Feminia. Then Thomas, the elder, had become the personal military attache to Father John himself.

Jason Neville, the younger brother, had been seeking a chance to emerge from underneath the shadow of his older brother’s accomplishments. His own were not insubstantial, but merely being a competent commander was not enough to distinguish himself from his sibling, who had the ear and the trust of the Father of the Kingdom himself. Jason had not been vocal with these desires, but Thomas had not been blind. That was why he was so glad to hear that Jason had been chosen to command the men who were being sent to Espicuta.

“You will be the most experienced officer in the entire nation,” Thomas declared over supper. “Even their Queen, or whatever their ruler calls herself, will bow to your wisdom.”

“You’ll have your work cut out for you,” Francis Neville said from the head of the table. “Taking men raised in ignorance like that, deferring to women...you’ll have to unmake them before you can turn them into soldiers.” The old man seemed like he had more to say, but his body was wracked by coughs. The room was dead silent as the two brothers watched their father struggle to take in air, relaxing only slightly when the coughing subsided.

“You boys worry too much,” Francis wheezed. “It’s nothing. I have been a virtuous man, and the Lord protects me.” Neither son said anything in response.

After a long silence, Jason spoke up. “I am going to take Julia with me,” he announced.

“A good decision,” Thomas replied.

“Keep a close watch on her,” Francis said, pointing his fork at his son. “Don’t let those harpies fill her head with any nonsense, you hear?”

“I think it will be the opposite, father,” Thomas said.

Jason felt a slight tinge of embarrassment. Now Thomas thought he must rise to the defense of his brother, even in their own house?

“Julia will show those Espicutan ladies how a real woman comports herself,” Thomas explained. “Besides, Jason will need someone to prepare the meals when he hosts all those silly woman officers.”

“It’s the other men I worry about,” Jason admitted. “Most of these NCOs are unmarried. We’ll have to make sure they’re not falling for any locals during their stay.”

“If they want to bring a woman home and turn into a good Zeonite wife, you let them!” Francis exclaimed. “Those whores might think they’re corrupting our boys, but you make sure any of them that end up with a Mount Zeon man come back here with them.”

Jason nodded but said nothing. He was already eager to leave Woodville and return to his own home, away from his father who he seemed to disappoint at every turn and his brother who took pity on him.

“Did you hear that they opened the Reformatories to foreign women?” Thomas asked their father. The conversation mercifully continued along different routes for the remainder of the night.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Aquilla, Queendom of Espicuta
High Council Chamber

---

Espicuta was the smallest of the states of the Empire, at least after the relinquishing of New Columbia. With a population of 23 millions, the Queendom was a hilly, faithful, loyal place which had probably been effected less than any other area of the Empire by its induction. Since becoming a part of the Empire in 1830, Espicuta had not maintained an army. She relied on Frankenlisch for national defence, keeping only a system of reserves and militias. On several occasions, notably the First Great War, the Imperial Draft had been activated but since then the country claimed few battle honours. In Prodava, Espicutan troops were outnumbered even by the volunteer battalions of Mount Zeon. The official creation of the Royal Espicutan Army, therefore, was quite the event. Not to mention a huge pile of work for the Espicutan Council of Matriarchs.

The Chamber of the High Council was a semi-circular Grecian room behind the throne room of the Royal Palace-Alcázar of Aquilla. Where there should have been a curved wall hung many curtains of heavy canvas, divided by pillars of white marble which kept the roof up. The centrepiece of the room was a long table of prime Espicutan Cedar, polished to a shine and adorned with golden trim. At one end of the table sat a throne and at the other end sat two cathedral chairs. Chairs of the same type lined each side of the table and each one was occupied.

"We are to receive several officers from Frankenlisch and a military police contingent of four hundred men to aid in the efforts and prevent trouble." The tall, authoritative-looking woman in the throne informed the High Council. Queen Maria the Fourth of Espicuta struck a most notable figure with her raven hair, straight and flowing in contrast to the Frankenlischian style, her peplos of white silk and purple cashmere and bejewelled tiara. She was pale and soft-skinned but generally plain-looking. "Of course we have discussed the involvement of the Zeonese in this affair, Frankenlisch has insisted on allowing their advisors to take part but they have assured us that they will do everything they can to prevent issues."

"If I may, Your Majesty," One of the two women who occupied the seats opposite the Queen spoke up. This was Lady Anna Marbrand, His Imperial Majesty's Governor-General in Espicuta. "Frankenlisch is adamant that neither party do anything to harm the cohesion of the Empire or to damage Imperial-Zeonese relations. Any grievances from either side are to be forwarded to a representative of the Imperial Government."

"Thank you, Governor-General," Maria replied. "That makes things much easier." She came to her feet and the assembled High Council followed suit. "Isabella, do you have anything to add?"

Duchess Isabella de Jedora, who was positioned next to the Governor-General, was the Matriarch of the Council of Nobles and the official head of the Espicutan Government. She wore a soft slip dress under a brown frock with a light pink sash. Like the Queen, she bore a tiara, this one of rubies and bronze as opposed to the Queen's silver and emerald. "I have been coordinating the reception with the Chamberlain. We will be well-prepared to receive the Zeonese and King's officers."

"Very good." Affirmed the Queen. "Thank you, sisters, meeting adjourned."

---

To: James Pleasant, Zeonese Foreign Minister
From: Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister
Security: Standard

---

Minister,

I am grateful for the assistance which your government has offered to render as regards to the raising of additional Imperial forces. I truly feel, with all our recent cooperation, that the build-up of relations between the Kingdom of Mount Zeon and the Empire since the restoration of King Edward III have finally come to fruition. I have been charged by my colleagues with placing a further proposal before you.

The Ministries of Industry, Defence and the Exchequer are, as I'm sure you can imagine, deeply excited by the possibilities which the CTFC has created. It is the hopes of His Imperial Majesty's Government that Mount Zeon will receive a delegation of members of the Ministry of Industry, the Imperial Military Acquisition Board and the Diplomatic Service, along with several interested industrialists. The purpose of such a mission being twofold.

1. To spearhead Imperial-Zeonese economic cooperation.
2. To assess the possibilities of acquiring military equipment from Mount Zeon or vice-versa.

Assuming this is agreeable to your government, I will assemble the delagation within the next two days to make the journey.

I have also been asked by the Minister of Imperial Affairs to forward a request to Your Excellency to despatch the Zeonese military personnel who will be rendering assistance in Espicuta so that they may be received in Aquilla by the end of the week. I would suggest that they travel by air to Vladimirska in North-West Vionna so that they may finish the journey alongside the Imperial Army Advisory Detachment which is headed to Espicuta as well. As Prodava is a more recent addition to the Empire and, as such, there are further security concerns, I hope you will be willing to hold off on your assistance in that territory until all preparations are made. If it would suit the Zeonese government, we would be most willing to host Colonel Yates' contingent in Vionna-Frankenlisch until things are prepared.

Yours, with the deepest of respects,
Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
Unification Plaza

---

Prince Albert Alexander James Turrell, Duke of Grythshead, Thegn of Frankenlisch Castle and Prince Imperial of Vionna-Frankenlisch felt awkward. Awkward because the rain was trickling very gently down his cheeks. Awkward because he had not been given enough time to prepare. Awkward because the King's horse was a thunderous great stallion, not the spirited mare that he was used to. And awkward because this parade, supposedly dedicated to Imperial victory in Deadora against their former allies, felt more like a walk of shame.

The thirteen-thousand-four-hundred soldiers of the First Division likely felt the same way. The support troops, logistics, engineers, medical, commissary and clerical, Provosts, staff: these had all gone ahead to Queen Caroline Central Station to supervise the loading of equipment. The infantry, smartly turned-out but sluggish, marched past Prince Albert and his staff in perfect order, the rain collecting on their greatcoats and darkening their khaki field caps. The battalions displayed no colours and no bands heralded their march, they simply trudged in endless ranks of khaki towards the train station. There were few spectators, everyone was inside or making their way hurriedly elsewhere, coat collars raised to the wind and umbrellas braced against the rain. It was a grey, grey day in Frankenlisch.

A mounted figure trotted alongside the marching men, many braced up slightly, one or two even showed smiles. Prince Albert could not recognise the character beneath its heavy grey greatcoat and covered bicorne hat. There was the distinct glow of a lit cigar on the figure's face and, after conversing briefly with another mounted officer, a Colonel of the Westonland Fusiliers, the character turned and trotted towards Albert.

"Sire," Princess Adelaide muttered through lips clenched around her cigar. She saluted and Albert returned it.

"Princess." Albert nodded, finally recognising her. "The Empire owes you a debt."

"The Empire owes me nothing, I did my duty. The Empire should have taken my advice and let me march on Bryn Tegna, I could have done it with a division, Deadora was beaten." The Princess grumbled.

Albert's brow furrowed. "Yes, I read the report you sent to the IGS. They were not exactly impressed." He informed her with a darkness which did not suit the Prince.

"None of what I wrote was a lie." Adelaide insisted. "If you'll excuse me, Sire, I have work need's doing."

Albert stopped her. "Not here, you don't. Command of the Imperial Expeditionary Corps is going to Sir Harold Buckingham. You are going to Espicuta." He reached into his greatcoat and pulled a sealed packet from an interior pocket. Its red wax seal was stamped with the arms of the Imperial Army. Princess Adelaide took it and placed it in her own greatcoat before it could get wet. She coughed a little into her sleeve, somewhat awkwardly, not sad but perhaps a little distressed.

"Espicuta?" She asked.

"The new government is forming standing armies in Prodava and Espicuta. Prodava is taking some time to work out with the Governor-General but Espicuta is going ahead as planned. You're going to command it, at least until we can find a local who wants the job or someone here who wants it more than you do." The Prince explained. "Congratulations, Marshal." He leaned forward and pulled his right glove off. Adelaide did the same and shook him by the hand. "Get yourself to Frankenlisch Castle, Princess, a small staff are awaiting you there."

Adelaide saluted the Duke of Grythshead. He returned it. With nothing more to say, she turned and cantered away, cutting between two marching companies on her way. Behind her, the Prince excused himself from his staff and rode off, slightly gingerly, on the King's horse.

[Mount Zeon]

To: James Pleasant, Zeonese Foreign Minister
From: Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister
Security: Standard

---

Minister,

I am grateful for the assistance which your government has offered to render as regards to the raising of additional Imperial forces. I truly feel, with all our recent cooperation, that the build-up of relations between the Kingdom of Mount Zeon and the Empire since the restoration of King Edward III have finally come to fruition. I have been charged by my colleagues with placing a further proposal before you.

The Ministries of Industry, Defence and the Exchequer are, as I'm sure you can imagine, deeply excited by the possibilities which the CTFC has created. It is the hopes of His Imperial Majesty's Government that Mount Zeon will receive a delegation of members of the Ministry of Industry, the Imperial Military Acquisition Board and the Diplomatic Service, along with several interested industrialists. The purpose of such a mission being twofold.

1. To spearhead Imperial-Zeonese economic cooperation.
2. To assess the possibilities of acquiring military equipment from Mount Zeon or vice-versa.

Assuming this is agreeable to your government, I will assemble the delegation within the next two days to make the journey.

I have also been asked by the Minister of Imperial Affairs to forward a request to Your Excellency to despatch the Zeonese military personnel who will be rendering assistance in Espicuta so that they may be received in Aquilla by the end of the week. I would suggest that they travel by air to Vladimirska in North-West Vionna so that they may finish the journey alongside the Imperial Army Advisory Detachment which is headed to Espicuta as well. As Prodava is a more recent addition to the Empire and, as such, there are further security concerns, I hope you will be willing to hold off on your assistance in that territory until all preparations are made. If it would suit the Zeonese government, we would be most willing to host Colonel Yates' contingent in Vionna-Frankenlisch until things are prepared.

Yours, with the deepest of respects,
Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister

To: Casimir Stawski, Imperial Foreign Minister
From: James Pleasant, Foreign Minister of the Kingdom of Mount Zeon

---

Sir,

I am pleased to inform you that your proposal has been placed before the Council, and received its unanimous endorsement and the approval of Father John himself. I have tasked my office with making all necessary preparations to receive your delegation, and I am confident that this mission will result in exactly the sort of economic and security cooperation that the Comprehensive Treaty of Friendship and Commerce was designed to enable.

As for the request regarding military personnel, I have forwarded it onto Grand Marshal Truth and he has entrusted me with delivering his response in the affirmative. The Espicutan advisory force will make its way to Vladimirska by air for transport alongside your own advisory detachment; the Grand Marshal’s office will deliver all the necessary information regarding their flight plans when they are finalized. As for the matter of Prodava, the Grand Marshal has suggested that Colonel Yates and his staff make the journey to Vionna-Frankenlisch now, with the rank-and-file, so to speak, of the advisory team to follow when preparations are nearer to completion. Colonel Yates will be traveling with his wife, but many of the NCOs under his command are unmarried and have not spent substantial time with their families since the beginning of the recent conflict.

Yours in Truth,
James Pleasant
Foriegn Minister

New Argyle

Mount Zeon’s Air Force had no long-range transport planes. It in fact had very few long-range aircraft of any kind. To transport the men of the Advisory Force for Espicuta and their supplies to the staging point at Vladimirska, the Kingdom had chartered the use of several commercial airliners. Most of the soldiers who were now boarding the aircraft had never flown before, and there was an air of nervousness about the men as they took their seats on the big, four-engined jet planes. Some complained about the cramped conditions of the planes, which were foreign-made with an eye towards maximizing passengers per flight. The Zeonite soldiers, who had traveled in Edomite railcars and marched across the dusty lands of Kehrahn and Deadora, griped incessantly about the three-abreast seating and the minimal legroom. Senior NCOs maintained order, herding the men into their seats and making sure they paid attention to the safety briefings from the flight attendants before takeoff.

One aircraft included a small first class area, and these seats were reserved from Colonel Jason Neville, his wife Julia, and the other staff officers and wives being brought along for the journey. Their accommodations were much more comfortable, and the men talked about the challenges that they would face in Espicuta while the women looked out the window and remarked on the strange sights. The sensation of takeoff thrilled and terrified the Zeonese in equal measure, and the awe of watching the ground fall away from under them was matched by a sober concern for what should happen if calamity struck the planes in flight. The assurances of the crews, that this was a perfectly safe voyage to undertake, mollified them only somewhat.

“It seems unnecessary for the Vionnans to send people of their own to accompany us,” one officer was saying to Colonel Neville. “If they were going to send their own officers the whole time, why drag us across Cornellia to do their work for them?”

Jason Neville did not have a good answer to this question, but he tried to think one through as he spoke it. “The Vionnan force in Deadora didn’t see much combat, did it? Nothing like what Maccahabei went through at Shamvigra. They need men with real battle experience.”

“So what will these Vionnans be doing, while we’re teaching their men how to fight?”

This time, Jason shrugged. “Procedure, I suppose. They’ll want this new army to fit in with the rest of their forces, so they have to know all the right codes and such.”

Meanwhile, Julia Neville was gossiping with some of the other officers’ wives. The women sat in a cluster near the front of the first class cabin, away from the thin curtain dividing the officers from the other men packed into the normal seats.

“When we had General Truth and his wife over for dinner, she told me that the General had met some Vionnans during the fighting,” Julia was telling the others. As the wife of the highest ranking officer, she had the social clout to hold a sort of court with the other women. “And that their division was commanded by a princess!”

“Where was her husband?”

Julia lowered his voice, as if revealing a dark secret. “She didn’t have one! Apparently this princess was married to another woman.” That got the women flustered, and the court erupted in a cacophony of simulataenous conversations and shocked giggles.

“Do you think we’ll see any of these warrior women?”

“I think we’ll have no choice,” Julia said. “All the officers are women over there, or so Jason has told me. That’s why they needed him and the other men to come over and teach the soldiers how to fight.”

“Are the soldiers women too?”

“Oh, goodness no,” Julia said, as if someone had just asked whether the sun and the moon were the same thing. “They’re strange, but they’re not that silly. But those poor men, getting henpecked by women at home and at work.” There was a general agreement that the plight of the male Espicutan soldier was very tragic, and that once they had arrived in this strange country where women married women and led armies, something should be done to raise the surely battered morale of the men who their husbands were going to train.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Vionna-Frankenlisch

---

Princess Adelaide Douglas Fitz-Kieth was many things. She was the eighth-richest noble in the Empire. She was the baseborn daughter of the great Prince Allistair of the Riverland who, by some twist of fate, rose above the humiliation of her birth to become her father's heir. She was the woman who took Entrylli from the Deadorans in a perfectly-executed night operation. She was not a damn miracle worker.

The staff which the Prince Imperial had arranged was literally a Battalion staff. Adelaide had started her career on one of these, as an S2 on the staff of a battalion of Fusiliers. Since then she had commanded a brigade of loyalist militiamen in Marienberg and the First Division in Deadora. Faced with the position of building an army with a staff of fourteen officers and some servants and guardsmen, she was not exactly thrilled.

One consolation to the Princess was the placement at her command of Detachments 7 through 12 of the Army Provost Corps with their scarlet armbands and berets. These 400 men were intended to keep order with the new and, doubtless, undisciplined recruits and, far more importantly, prevent incidents between the Espicuans and Zeonites. Adelaide, as a human possessing a working brain, had been a tad worried about such a mixture from the moment she heard about the plan. However, there was perhaps no better arrangement. Zeon was a friend, it was battle-experienced and Adelaide had encountered them before, at the gala and following the Capture of Entrylli. So long as the MPs kept order and all complaints were put through the proper channels, things should be relatively stable.

Luckily, Espicuta could boast an officer corps with some experience. Many of the young women who were to become officers in the Imperial Espicutan Army had served in the New Columbian army or even the Imperial Vionnan Army, meaning that there would be some base of experience, however small. There was no shortage of other issues, however. Espicuta’s arms industry was minuscule, presently employed with the manufacture of service rifles for the militia and sporting weaponry for those fortunate enough to buy them, mostly nobility. It would take years for Espicuta’s industry to expand to a point of self-sufficiency. Luckily, this was neither Adelaide’s problem nor her responsibility. Armament of the force would have to be done almost entirely with Imperial Military stocks. In depots across the country, the Empire could call upon a virtually infinite amount of military equipment. However, the most modern kit was reserved for the Imperial Army’s finest regiments and even the next tier down was still in use by reserve units. Espicuta was not a priority and, Adelaide suspected, the government’s hasty decision to raise an Espicutan army was done without consulting the Imperial Army whose supplies would be pilfered to equip the new force.

As the Princess took the journey from Frankenlisch to Vladimirska, a four-day journey from coast to coast with many stops, she had time to put all her creative faculties, not to mention her many military and civil contacts, to good use. While still in Frankenlisch she withdrew a great deal of money and augmented her tiny staff with a variety of reserve officers who swanned around Grenadier Square, hoping to catch the eye of superiors, and sat dejected at court, drinking quietly. There were a dozen of them who could be convinced to join the Princess, from the Imperial Army, the Frankenlisch Defence Force and even a Captain of the Imperial Navy. She would sign their requisition papers on the journey and hand them into Horse Guards along the journey at Donaldia. Her train, a special service which had been occupied only by her little cabal of officers, guards and soldier-servants, would have enough space for her purposes.

The first stop on the route was Richmond-upon-Redwater, just beyond the beautiful farmland of so-called Middle Frankenlisch, a strip of greenery which divided the industrial north with the also-industrial south. Here, Adelaide took in the sights and telephoned ahead to Lawrenceburgh, ordering the stocks of small arms, bayonets and ammunition in the storerooms of Lawrenceburgh Castle (technically reserves for equipping newly-mobilised troops) to be loaded onto trains ready for her arrival.

Therefore, on her arrival the following morning, Adelaide found the rail sidings stuffed with army trains full of old bolt-action rifles and submachine guns. She enlisted the support of her Master-at-Arms, Sir Richard Higgins, and he added his number to her ever-growing staff. She decided to sleep on the train rather than in the city and, as soon as it could be organised, the journey continued through the ancient province of Cunaris into the Duchy of Erin. There the train halted for the night at Enniskenny and Princess Adelaide ended the day by requisitioning 20,000 sets of webbing from the stocks of the Erin Mustering Battalion. Though sputtering with confused indignation, the aged quartermaster, woken from his sleep by Adelaide’s battering on the stockroom door, promised to have the required units loaded onto the Princess’ train.

Next came Donaldia, the home of the headquarters of the Imperial Vionnan Army, Adelaide met with her direct superior, the Duke of Teutonberg, in the hopes that he could promise further support. Lord Karl Poltov simply treated her to lunch and expertly continued to change the subject. The Princess was forced to spend her time in the city making arrangements for the final stops on the route.

At Darlington, a major base for the Imperial Army, much to the disappointment of the Duke of Darlington and Shiring, Adelaide and her staff demanded a full inventory of the Royal Artillery depot there. Though currently home only to the two independent Anti-Tank Regiments of the Royal Artillery, the depot boasted a great deal of out-of-date equipment which the clerks and quartermasters were only too happy to get rid of, even helping to load them personally. The equipment amounted to one-hundred Smith Guns, three-hundred Blacker Bombards and nearly five-hundred Northover Projectors. It took four hours but the rudimentary weapons were loaded onto the trains and they continued the final leg of their journey to Vladimirska, across the huge agricultural counties of Helmfirth, Castermaine and Troubridge.

The moment the Princess’ rail convoy arrived at Vladimirska, she ordered the embarkation of her men and material onto the naval convoy that would take them to Espicuta. The convoy of trucks stretched from the huge naval base to Vladimirska Grand Central Station, all carrying the old equipment for the Espicutan Army. Adelaide only hoped that it could be put to some use and that all the effort spent requisitioning supplies which, in truth, she had little right to, had not been wasted. As her men were embarked and the base staff busied themselves with loading the material onto ships, Adelaide had one thing left to do. She had a runner sent to the airport to lead the Zeonese troops to the ships and to ask their commander to do her the honour of dining with her at the General Bogrosilov Hotel. With the loading scheduled to take the rest of the day and with nothing left to do, she headed to dinner.

[Mount Zeon]

As her men were embarked and the base staff busied themselves with loading the material onto ships, Adelaide had one thing left to do. She had a runner sent to the airport to lead the Zeonese troops to the ships and to ask their commander to do her the honour of dining with her at the General Bogrosilov Hotel. With the loading scheduled to take the rest of the day and with nothing left to do, she headed to dinner.

Vladimirska

The runner arrived to find Colonel Jason Neville and his troops disembarking from the planes in good order, except for the men who complained of muffled hearing from the changes in pressure in flight. Colonel Neville had been confronted with the fleeting fear that his men had contracted some disease from the planes, but the cabin crews assured him that it was a normal experience that all travelers had. Colonel Neville directed the runner to speak with Sergeant Major Isaiah Smith, his second-in-command, on the matter of directing the Zeonese troops to the ships while he and his wife prepared to meet Princess Adelaide for dinner.

Jason Neville had heard of this woman from General Sien Truth, who had commanded Division Machabaei in Deadora. Truth had first met the woman at the Peace Gala in New Edom, when Mount Zeon and Vionna-Frankenlisch were still on opposing sides of the war. Then the Empire had turned its coat and betrayed its erstwhile Deadoran allies, and General Truth and General Flynn of Division Zelotes had been responsible for opening a land corridor between the Imperial Expeditionary Force at Entrylli and the Allied-occupied port of Leghrain. When Neville had asked Truth about the Princess, the word he’d chosen to describe her was “interesting.” Jason Neville wasn’t sure what to think about that, but he supposed he was about to find out just how “interesting” Princess Adelaide was for himself.

“Will she be preparing the dinner?” Jason’s wife Julia asked as they traveled to the General Bogrosilov Hotel. She was dressed in a pleasant burgundy evening dress, while Colonel Neville wore his uniform and the medals of service and commendation he’d been awarded. Prominent among them was the ribbon marking his participation in the brief conquest of New Feminia, and nearby was an award for merit presented to him for leading the troops that had taken custody of New Feminian President Jennifer White.

“Probably not,” Jason told his wife. “The Vionnans have servants for that sort of work, or the ones who are princesses do at least.” His wife scoffed.

When they arrived at the Hotel and were ushered into the presence of Princess Adelaide, Colonel Neville bowed his head and his wife followed suit, as he’d instructed beforehand.

“Princess, we haven’t met before but General Truth spoke highly of you,” Neville said. “Colonel Jason Neville, Mount Zeon Army, and this is my wife Julia.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Julia said on cue, scrutinizing the princess but trying not to be obvious about it.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Vladimirska, Vionna-Frankenlisch
General Bogrosilov Hotel

---

The General Bogrosilov Hotel was a grand construction, one of the few privately-owned buildings on Vladmirska’s renowned Winter Square, within the huge walls of the Vista Citadel, a walled-island in the middle of the wide Vista River which flowed through the city of Vladimirska and all the way south to the Earldom of Breem. It was named after General Anatoly Bogrosilov, a heroic commander of the old Vladimirskan Principality. His skilful command of his country’s regiments during the Great Western War had etched his name forever in the history books and, just as importantly, on the frontage of the colossal marble-clad figure of the grandest hotel in Vladimirska. One of the hotel’s three restaurants had been cordoned off for the purposes of Princess Adelaide and her staff but at that moment, only the Princess herself occupied the magnificent eatery with its antique furniture and walls decorated with the battle honours of great Vladimirskan regiments of old.

Princess Adelaide, as with many of the Imperial Army's generals, had essentially chosen her uniform herself. This practice was commonplace and even encouraged among the mostly noble officers who had many regiments and civil appointments from which to draw from. Adelaide herself wore the same uniform she had decided on in Deadora. Consisting of the tunic of a General of Yeomanry and a long tartan skirt with the heavy, dark-brown boots of a private soldier. Her Order of King Lawrence gleamed at her throat. She stood with a clean smile as the Zeonese introduced themselves. "Colonel, Mrs Neville, how glad I am to see you." She greeted them, "Princess Adelaide Douglas Fitz-Kieth. Please sit." She returned to her own seat. The Princess was a strange character to look at, not unattractive in any sense but she did not fit the usual models of Vionna-Frankenlischian noblewomen. She existed, somehow, outside fashion. Perhaps an unfortunate side effect of the circumstances of her birth. She was tall, almost six foot, busty and pale with soft green eyes and a waterfall of chestnut hair which had that rare quality of looking, to the untrained eye, nicely styled while in fact simply being unkempt.

Colonel Neville and his wife took their seats. The colonel estimated that he and the princess were roughly of the same height, while Julia Neville was several inches shorter than the both of them. She regarded Adelaide’s dress, especially the boyish tunic and boots, with the barest hint of disapproval. The colonel’s wife was a plain woman who looked like the archetypal farmer’s wife, with brown eyes and long brown hair that was pulled back into a neat bun. Next to her, Colonel Jason Neville’s cropped black hair and blue eyes sat on a chiseled, clean-shaven face.

“Have you ever been to Espicuta before, Princess?”

“I have not,” Adelaide confessed. “Apparently it is a beautiful country. I do not have much experience of the Empire. Or indeed anywhere really. I served occupational duty in Prodava when I was a Captain but I have never left the continent save for Deadora and Fineberg.”

She smiled. The Princess had a white-toothed, almost bawdy smile. She could be no older than thirty. “If memory serves,” she said, as if she had not read the full IIS report on Colonel Neville, “You spent some time in your own country’s conquest some years back.”

“Yes, I was a light infantry lieutenant,” Jason answered. “We were supposed to go in by helicopter to seize the main airbase in the first hours, but we didn’t end up launching until the war was nearly over. The damn helicopters, half of them wouldn’t work and the other half didn’t have enough fuel to get beyond the perimeter fence of the airfield. When we finally did get going, we touched down at the enemy airbase just in time for the Feminians to surrender. After the war I was on occupation duty, chasing Partisans around the woods.”

Jason’s brother Thomas Neville had spent the war in a far more exciting and glorious campaign on the ground, crossing the border and taking part in the major battle at Weira that had broken the back of the Feminian defense. He’d also married a reformed Feminian officer and served as Jason’s commanding officer during their postings in the rechristened Sabine Territory. The Partisans had been bolder then, striking at everything from patrols to prisoner convoys bound for the Reformatories in Mount Zeon proper. Yet their lack of heavy weapons, and amateurism, had limited the overall effectiveness of their attacks.

“My understanding is that things were more difficult in Prodava,” Jason said. “Some of the higher up officers for the Feminia campaign served in the volunteer units that went over to fight there.”

The Princess nodded. “It was a tough, costly campaign. But no doubt glorious. Several of my bri- My former brigade commanders,” she corrected with a hint of sourness, “Served in the initial invasion. Prodava managed to hold a lot longer than we thought they could and they mobilised quite the army. It was certainly a learning experience for the Imperial Military.” She smiled again, although one could rarely tell if her smiles were forced, “The support of the Zeonite volunteers was deeply appreciated, they served with distinction. How, may I ask, were they greeted upon their return?”

“They returned to heroes’ welcomes,” Colonel Neville said. “I remember seeing them parade in New Jerusalem when they returned. It was the first real fighting that Zeonese soldiers had done since the Revolution. The whole country followed their exploits in the war.”

There had been less to celebrate at the beginning, of course, when companies of men had been led into disasters by their amateur gentry-officers, leaving the towns from which they were recruited full of widows and fatherless children. But the crucible of battle had separated the wheat from the chaff and produced a coterie of experienced and battle-tested commanders.

“Most of the senior instructors at the Military Academy are Prodavan veterans,” he added. “I never thought that I’d end up being the teacher one day. But I think between us, we should be able to work these new soldiers into shape.”

Adelaide nodded and polished off a glass of crisp Vladimirskan vodka with a sigh. “I agree, I agree. My men are here to keep order and to supervise the efforts, little more. I am here, principally, to command the new force and act as a liaison between the three parties: Zeonese, Espicutan, Vionna-Frankenlischian. Any minor complaint comes through me or my staff, Frankenlisch doesn’t want any kind of breakdown. I trust in your experience, Colonel Neville, but the Espicutans are an odd people, loyal, but odd. Neither party must press any issue that might damage our national relations or the cohesion of the Empire, those are my orders.”

“I appreciate that explanation,” Colonel Neville said. “I admit that I was...curious, as to how our two commands would be interacting once is Espicuta. I hope that there will be no need for you to exercise the role of mediator, but such things are rarely so easy. I’ll be glad to know you’re there to help smooth out any ruffles that come up. My government is just as eager as yours to make this venture a smooth one.”

She leaned back and nodded to a waiter. “Where are my manners, anyhow, let us order. You must be famished.”

The cleanly-dressed waiter approached, a short man with a thick beige moustache. “General, Colonel, madam.” He greeted them stiffly, a thick Slavic accent making his words harsh but not rude. He carried a notebook and was scribbling in pencil before anyone had even begun to speak. “Your orders, please?”

“We are in your country,” Colonel Neville said to the princess. “What do you recommend?”

Adelaide laughed, it was a sweet chuckle but somehow harsh in tone. “My dear Colonel, we may be in Vionna-Frankenlisch but I assure you this place bears little resemblance to my country.” She turned towards the waiter. “What is the special, Ivan?”

“The General will be delighted by our roast pork with Czarina and wine gravy,” the waiter suggested. “I believe also that a starter dish of buckwheat and rye cooked in vodka would be pleasing to the General’s palette.”

Another grin from the Princess. “You know me well already, Ivan.” She nodded, ignoring the nametag sported on the fellow’s waistcoat. ‘Pawel’, it saw fit to inform the reader. “I shall have that.”

It did sound good, but Zeonite dietary laws, taken in large part from the strictures of Jewish kosher, prohibited the consumption of pork. Colonel Neville contented himself with ordering a steak, medium rare, and the buckwheat and rye starter dish that the waiter had described. Julia Neville ordered stroganoff, a dish she’d had once before at the home of a Zeonese family with some foreign blood in them.

“So these Espicutans,” Colonel Neville said as the waiter departed. “Odd, you say?”

“Odd.” Adelaide repeated and thanked another waiter who brought drinks. A bottle of vodka, clear and marked only with a strip of calligraphy across the bottle which heralded its origin from the Imperial and Royal Vista River Distillery. Another waiter, this one female, difficult though it was to tell, wheeled over a silver trolley atop which sat a samovar and a variety of small bowls for drinking tea from. Adelaide poured herself a glass of the spirits and did not touch the tea. “They are matriarchal, as I’m sure you’re aware, but they are not Deadoran harpies. In Espicuta it is more that the traditional roles have been switched. Men are the homemakers in Espicuta but they are not chattel, there is no submission that I’m aware of. Very odd indeed. I wonder really how the system came about, I never bothered to learn their history.” She explained.

Jason and Julia helped themselves to tea, but did not avail themselves of the vodka. “I understood that they practiced a...kinder matriarchy than the Deadorans, yes,” the colonel said. “I’ll admit, I was surprised to hear that they had permitted Zeonite troops onto their territory.”

Julia looked at her husband, clearly wishing to ask the princess something. The colonel nodded benevolently, letting his wife speak while he sipped at his tea.

“You spent time with the Deadorans,” Julia Neville said. “Are the stories true? Are they really that horrible?”

Adelaide’s eyes narrowed. “They are certainly not a pleasant people, Mrs Neville.” She confided, noting with some distaste the control the Colonel had over his wife. “I cannot say that I met many of them, except those prisoners that I took at Entrylli.” She grinned. “Your Deadoran is a very slippery customer, but I doubt she shall be giving us much trouble anytime soon.” She turned back to the husband. “As for Espicuta, Colonel, I doubt that they were even consulted to begin with, though Queen Maria would certainly have given her consent. As I say, they are a very loyal people.”

“Yes, Lord willing they’ve learned their lesson from this war,” Jason declared. “Though I’ve heard through the grapevine that you were of the opinion that they should have been chastised further. The word is that you told General Truth at the Peace Gala that you wanted to march on Bryn Tega. But you know these barracks room stories, they grow in every retelling.”

“I told General Truth exactly what I told the Imperial General Staff. I told him that I could have marched on Bryn Tegna with my one division and I could have taken it with my one division. I could have had Jackie Thrall taken back to Frankenlisch in an iron cage and I could have had my pick of the Deadoran nobility suckling at my teat, quite literally.” Adelaide recounted, speaking harshly but taking care not to appear personally angry with the Nevilles. “And I should have done, at that. They were fools for not taking my advice and continuing the campaign against Deadora. But I am a soldier, as well as a Princess of the Realm, I do my duty to the army just as I do my duty to my people. I was restrained from making such an offensive and I returned home with my division, my division that had taken Entrylli from within in a single night.”

She grinned again, excitedly, and leaned in. “But between you and me, Colonel,” she finished her third glass. “One day, I’ll go back to Deadora. I’ll bring these Espicutans with me, and I’ll put an end to them.”

“In my opinion, Princess, I think it should have been done too.” Neville grinned. “And the same can be said for every Zeonite in the Kingdom. Some day, their judgement will come. And perhaps then our nations will march into Bryn Tega together.”

“But tell me,” the colonel added, shifting the conversation slightly. “What sort of army does the Empire hope to build in Espictua? I have plenty of men with experience in infantry tactics, by themselves or in cooperation with armor. Will the Espicutans raise armored units, or will foot soldiers be their contribution to the Imperial forces?”

The Princess sighed. “I suppose you were going to find out anyway… The only equipment the Espicutan Army has at this point is what I could find personally. I spent the entire journey here requisitioning old kit and taking from the stocks of my own militia. Besides their uniforms, their equipment is going to be whatever I’ve got loaded on those ships when we leave. There’s gear in there that hasn’t been used since the thirties.” She moved to fill another glass but thought better of the idea and made tea instead. “The staff they gave me is what they’d usually give to an infantry battalion. I’ve picked up whoever I can but it’s still not enough. The first thing I’m going to have to do is send for actual equipment. They want a force of between fifty and one hundred thousand troops. We have enough equipment for twenty-thousand at best.” She sipped her tea sulkily, perhaps annoyed at the lack of a handle on the drinking vessel. “At any rate,” she drew her rant to a close, “There’ll be no armoured units in Espicuta for some time, unless I work out some real miracle.”

It was a shocking revelation. Colonel Neville was sure that some of the surprise he was feeling showed on his face. His wife had a less comprehending look, but she could tell that what the princess was saying to her husband was not good news.

“That is...an unfortunate state of affairs,” was what Neville eventually said. “I did not realize that things were so unprepared.” The request from the Imperial government had come from out of nowhere, but the general consensus among the officers of the advisory group was that they were here to help train an army that was already organized and equipped. The fact that they’d be building this force from scratch on all levels was sobering.

“Well then,” the colonel declared. “It seems as if we’ve got quite some work ahead of us before we go marching off for Bryn Tega.”

Another nod. “Quite so,” Princess Adelaide agreed as another wave of waiter arrived bearing the group’s dishes. “Thank you,” she said to them. The waiting staff silently bowed their heads once it became clear nobody was going to complain and filed back into the kitchen.

“Tell me, Mrs Neville, I have often wondered what Zeonite women think of the way of things in Vionna-Frankenlisch?” Adelaide asked the Colonel’s wife, innocently.

“The way of things?” Julia Neville repeated, looking somewhat startled to have been asked a question. She looked over to Colonel Neville, who hid the tension he felt beneath a smile. “Well, I wouldn’t want to speak for every Zeonite woman...but it’s quite different to the way things are back home, or what I’ve seen and heard so far is. There aren’t princesses in Mount Zeon, or women commanding soldiers.” Julia swallowed nervously. “It just seems like it would be very difficult for a woman to try and lead men, real men that is.” She stopped herself suddenly, aware that she’d likely just insulted not only Adelaide’s incompetence but also the soldiers she commanded. “I’m sorry, I spoke without thinking. I don’t wish to be rude.”

“I’m sure the General appreciates your honesty,” Colonel Neville chimed in. Julia Neville suddenly appeared very interested in the food on the plate in front of her.

“I do madam, I appreciate it very much.” Adelaide tried to reassure the woman. “I assure you I find it no more difficult than a man would. It is not so hard for a Vionnan to believe, we have a long history of women leading men into battle.” She sighed, a little sadly. “But I’m not interested in converting anybody, and I trust that you are not either.” The Princess finished her tea and, after a moment of quiet contemplation, poured another glass of vodka. “You don’t partake, Colonel?”

“Against our religion, I’m afraid,” the colonel replied. “Beer, cider, and wine are permitted, but nothing stronger. I couldn’t say why the Prophet made that distinction, but he must have had his reasons.”

There was a moment of silence. "Indeed?" The Princess said, though it was obvious she wasn't actually asking for clarification. "Well more's the pity." She offered and spent some minutes in silence, eating politely but with evident hunger. Another bowl of tea helped the hearty meal down and she finished before the Zeonites. She nodded a cigarette boy over and took one off of his silver tray, which the blonde teen lit with a match.

The two Zeonites let the silence hang for a few minutes, also eating their food with evident satisfaction. Colonel Neville filled the empty space with a few trivial questions, asking about how long the journey from Vladimirska to Espicuta would take and other matters of logistics. When the couple had finished their meals, they too poured themselves more tea to wash it down. The colonel took a cigarette as well, which Julia Neville seemed to find distasteful, but no objections were raised.

---

In due time, the two Zeonites said their goodbyes to Adelaide, thanking her for the invitation and complimenting the food, and returned to the Zeonese unit.

“Quite an odd woman,” Julia remarked on their way back.

Jason Neville laughed. “Well, if you find her odd, and she says the Espicutans are odd, what does that say about the Espicutans?” Julia shuddered dramatically, making her husband laugh again. “General Truth was right,” he said as the staff car pulled up to the docks where the Zeonese were boarding their appointed transport. “Interesting, indeed.”

---

Thanks to Mount Zeon for working on this post with me.