The War Between Sun and Moon (GD - Present, IC)

[Solisian Union]

The War Between Sun and Moon - A GD Civil War RP

The Union shatters

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=555992

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The General Situation

The long peace which had given much life to the Solisian Union was shattered. A Republican coup took place in the capital, forcing Queen Reina to abdicate. Provoking anger from those loyal to her, as well as outrage from her family, tensions rose.

Sadly, war followed shortly after.

The Union now struggles against itself. All are forced to choose sides, regardless of their ties to their families, their homes, and their friends. Many are trapped in the growing violence between the ones still loyal to the monarchy and the ones who wish to bring back the Republic they knew or thought they knew.

Hundreds of thousands are either moving to Republican territories or to Monarchist areas. The rest who could flee have already fled, either to the neutral parts of the country or to the world beyond the borders of their country.

But there are also many who chose to stay and fight. Though not all are trained reservists or active members of the once united Solisian armed forces, the world knows that Solisian citizens can still take up arms. Yet, though they are greater in number, it is the regulars of both factions that would do most of the fighting and the killing and the dying.

It does not seem clear that either faction would quickly prevail. Everyone is still mobilizing. The economies of both factions have only just begun to make changes to themselves. Moving parts that once moved as a whole are now forced to function for one or the other. There is much confusion, regardless of whoever claims to know better.

Any chances for negotiation are gone. The only thing left is to fight. But it won't be so straightforward.

War is no easy affair, after all.

Right now, The Republicans are biting down on the tanks and men of General Vasques outside of the town of La Oreno. The Monarchists are mauling the uprisings started by trade unions, militias, and supporters of their enemies near Acosta. Countless skirmishes are happening everywhere else. From the great forests and rivers of Northern Solisia and Northern Azenia down to the fertile lands of the Rasur and the other peoples of the Union, the civil war makes its presence felt.

For the Republicans, though they claim La Victoria as their capital, Sanho is the only place where their new government practically can function. Yet, they could not allow the very center of the Union fall into the hands of their enemies. To lose it would mean to lose the very symbol of Solisia. They would sacrifice much for this as many did for the many different Republics of history.

For the Monarchists, it is not only the loss of La Victoria and the capture of their Queen and her household that they have to worry about. With Republican militias and supporters creating uprisings within what should have been secure territory, their own lines of communication and supply for their forces already facing the regular Republican forces would be in danger. They cannot afford to lose what military they have left to command. They also cannot afford to allow these little fires to grow more dangerous and powerful. If they can put down these threats near their center of power in Acosta, then Azenia would become a more stable base for executing their will in this war and win it.

Yet, so much of what they all plan to do will take time. No matter how quickly their leaders wish it, there can be no instantaneous movement of personnel nor of materiel. For now, they must do what they can for this summer.

This isn't the time for sophisticated battle plans. This isn't the time for more preparations. This isn't the time for trying anything else but dealing with the here and now.

No matter how much preparation was done, all officers fighting either for the Monarchy or the Republic know this:

No plan survives contact with reality, but no reality survives without some kind of planning to it.

The sun and moon burn. The stars are giving birth to a conflagration. The Solisian Civil War has begun.

The First Months of War

Republicans

The First Army - Field Marshal Ramziyya Artigas
So, it is war. After all of that, it is finally war.

It has come sooner than it should have. Some of our preparations are not yet complete. Many of our comrades in the south are trapped. They have been betrayed by their friends in the other armies. However, there is nothing we can do for them right now. There are more important things at stake where I am.

While the news writers love to claim Captain Torres was the leader of the coup, many of us in the army love to differ. He was only one of us, one among many who planned for this moment. He has done what he should have. Now it is up to the rest of us to continue with our cause.

I have work to do and people to lead. The First Army is waiting for me. The First Army is mine to use in this fight.

The First Army must not fail, regardless of my feelings about where better to fight the forces loyal to Prince Tobias. I have done my arguing already. There is no more room for it in the offices and conference rooms of Sanho. Our new military council has listened to me and they have agreed that my opinions were not the ones they needed. Fair enough. That leaves me to oversee the movement of the First Army.

My Army.

Fortunately for my command, my subordinates remain firm and confident in our present situation. We are afraid, yes, of all the consequences of failure that may come, but we are not so stubborn that we couldn't appreciate the opportunities waiting for us in battle. The North is full of them and we won't waste our chances.

General Vasques has committed herself to the battle. Foolish. While I have known her to be a good and competent officer, I also have known her to be too aggressive, too impatient sometimes that it makes her act too quickly. If she hasn't learned any better during those exercises and operations outside of the country, then I will make sure she will pay for it.

While I trust Generals Vidal and Larsson in La Victoria to keep resisting her tanks and her mechanized troops, I cannot afford to be so trusting. Trust alone wins nothing. General Vasques, after all, wasn't the commander of this corps of Marshal Olena's Second Army for nothing. Soon enough, she'll try going around them if they don't keep her forces in place. Fixing them at La Orena is one thing. Pinning them for good is another.

If we don't get reinforcements there in time, then the flanks will be exposed and used against us. That should not happen. To help us with this matter, the 3rd Army will join us. A good sign. If Field Marshal Íñigo Echeverría's men are this eager to spill the blood of the Monarchists, then I'm more than sure we'll do good.

I was also informed that his 3rd Army had sent detachments of mechanized infantry south to secure the northern flank. Two battalions, in fact. Helpful but not enough. Not that I can be so harsh with him for that. We both have to deal with Marshal Olena. Her officers are young but dangerous. We need to be careful with the timing of our actions when dealing with them all.

I believe I have timed things well. If things go well, then I would see Vasques remove herself and her corps as a threat to La Victoria. The southwest would be clear for us to move down and help our comrades. For this, I've given the job to one of my very own Assault battalions, one armored brigade, and the faster units belonging to Marshal Nada's Marine Army. I'll have to remember to thank him for the assistance next time. He's given me one of his divisions, the 6th, and assured me that they were one of his better assets.

I trust him. But we'll see if that is still true. What matters now is moving them all to La Oreno as soon as possible.

My First Army is already on the move, but they're not as fast as the Assault troops. Even their comrades in the 6th Naval Infantry Division have better transports. I'd try getting more men moving, but that's not necessary.

You can't push everything out so quickly without getting all the necessary arrangements done. I've pressed my Army as many times as I could, but continuing to do so would not help the situation. Some of the trains needed more tending to. Consequently, I've ordered my engineers to deal with that. The remaining trains that could take my Army are on their way southwest toward La Victoria, but they can only move more troops rather than their heavy equipment. That meant having to rely on the highways and moving them on trucks. Even that is taking time, much more than simply using trains.

I have considered using the river. This, too, will take time. Already, I've asked my engineers about it and they'll see what they can do with the cargo and heavy equipment.

Now there is nothing else I can do but wait and continue with the rest of my work. That means I'll have to get myself closer to the fighting. I'll take the first train out to Herramel. I will be seeing my subordinates there.


La Oreno - Private Florencio Yuki, 10th Infantry Brigade, 11th Republican Infantry Division

Textbook stuff. This was all supposed to be textbook stuff, but nothing happening in front of him, around him, and behind him was anything like what he knew during training.

Too much smoke from the burning vehicles mixed with too much dust from the sand on both sides of the highway, all of it carried by weak winds. He couldn't see the fighting over his trench, not even through the goggles he put on a minute before some brave little shits from the anti-tank company decided it was time to blow up the Monarchist tanks.

Was it even time to do that? The Monarchists were pulling back, weren't they? Did they really have to start this fight?

Questions like that had no use here. He picked up his grenades and grunted as he climbed out, got on his feet, and ran forwards. He had to look for the rest of his squad. They'd left him, the fuckers, and they didn't even say a word or grab his arm or knock on his helmet. He cursed himself for being so shocked at what happened.

Florencio was still running forwards, past the other trenches and past friendly tanks and vehicles in their dugouts. His ears rang hard. He heard the thut-thut-thut of their cannons and the rapid bursts of sound that only reminded him their machine guns were live. He slowed down and looked around only to be grabbed by someone and pulled into a trench.

The 19 year old soldier cried out, but he wasn't being stabbed or beaten or worse. He saw a face he knew. Ajira. Florencio made an embarrassed smile, but the female corporal dragged him up to his feet but kept his head down. The two were not alone. Three others from their squad were with them, shooting at an enemy they had a hard time seeing because of all the smoke and the dust going around.

"Flor! You stupid boy! What were you thinking running forwards and looking around?! You could have gotten your head shot," the corporal said, shaking her head at him. More firing. Spent casings were bouncing off their bodies and helmets, dropping to the ground. The corporal turned at her comrades and growled at them. They ignored her and she turned back to Florencio.

"I was looking for you! I got left behind."

"What? You got..." Ajira sighed, muttered something in Azenish, then found his rifle lying between his feet and picked it up. She shoved it into his arms and told him, "Fuck this. We need to keep fighting. Just do what we do, Flor." Without even warning him, she raised her rifle over his body and aimed down the sights before shooting two bursts over the trench.

Florencio hurried to get his weapon over their fighting position. He did as he was told, first firing too much and getting a kick in the ass from Ajira before he corrected himself, firing bursts in an arc, hoping he'd hit something.

Then the return fire came. Ajira grabbed his back and pulled him down with her as the others dropped behind the trench wall. They waited a while, listening to the cracks and zips of rounds flying over them. Ajira wished she had helped Flor adjust more to this kind of thing, but it was hard to do so when they're finally in the shit.

Behind them, the rest of La Oreno's defenders were not stopping. Republican tanks were still firing on their Monarchist rivals from prepared fighting pits in the sand or within the town. Others were firing on the move. They got on the highway or drove off from it, turning around the burning carcasses of their enemies. They were chasing after the ones retreating off the highway. Some simply advanced a little before they halted to take a better shot at a target. Following them, or even speeding past them, were IFVs with auto cannons and heavy machine guns. Infantry advanced too, ignoring Monarchist corpses and scattered body parts. But some, like Florencio's squad, were careful not just to go forwards.

A loud explosion. The squad looked over their trench. A friendly IFV had been hit across the side with a shell from a Monarchist tank. Screams. Surviving crew were on fire and running or dropping to the ground to extinguish the flames. A burst of machine gunfire cut many of them down.
Florencio felt his heart sink after seeing that. He felt his legs tremble. The young man turned to Ajira only to find a lieutenant standing by their trench.

The whole squad looked up at the officer, who was waving them out. "Get out! Get up and follow me. We need to move to the right flank. The Monarchists are trying to go around the town. We need to stop them."

Everyone got out, but Florencio was last. Ajira grabbed his arm and brought him with her, not letting go as they followed the lieutenant as she led them to a road leading northwest.

---

Monarchists

The Second Army - Field Marshal Carmen Olena

I was not born in Solisia, no matter what people may say about my family.

For all my life, I knew Azenia as my home. Unlike my counterpart, a reliable woman from a family of sanitation workers in New Azagi, I lived in Betanzos, a city belonging to Lupita Province.

It was in Azenia I became an officer of the Solisian army. It was in Azenia I celebrated the ascension of Queen Reina to the throne over our country. It was in Azenia I shaped the Second Army into a force that even Field Marshal Ramziyya recognized as better than any other in the northern military districts.

It was here I went, dissatisfied with the responses of our High Command when they couldn't punish the officers who launched their coup against the government and the Queen. It was here I answered the call of Prince Tobias, promising to him the loyalty of the Army entrusted to me. It was here I worked with little rest, preparing my officers for the inevitable, gathering as many weapons and materiel as I could before the country fractured, and solidifying the support of my home province for the sake of our cause. It was also here I decided to fight for what I believe is the rightful government for the country.

To any who know me, they will know I mean nothing less than this. Still, some would like to believe I am not truly as I am.

Some would like to believe that I am less dangerous because I am younger than half of my counterparts. Some would like to believe that I am less capable than Field Marshal Ramziyya. Some would like to believe that I am weaker in spirit because I am not a communist nor a socialist.

I would like to correct them.

The Second Army is, by no means, second to anyone. The First Army may enjoy their place, but it is we who know how to fight them. Many may idolize Field Marshal Ramziyya but they forget that I learned how to wage war because of her. This is an opportunity to demonstrate ourselves.

The Second Army is a weapon and it is mine to wield. It is an Army no good officer wishes to confront without being cautious. Although it is true that we are still mobilizing, so are our Republican enemies.

My subordinates are fierce and unyielding. They know defeat but they were never destroyed. It is in them I have the greatest confidence. Their youth, like mine, has taught them to treat defeats as challenges to learn from.

The objectives before us are clear. We will defend the North, end the harassment caused by small but dangerous pockets of Republican resistance within Azenia, and when we find any weakness, we attack.

We leave the rest of the war to our comrades. The Fifth Army will be moving south, helping our cause by dealing with the pockets that we could not reach and by securing the rest of Rasur. Two Republican Armies are trapped in the south and I pray that my friend, Field Marshal Sayeed Malnada, will be successful. But, for now, my attention must remain on what I can do.

There are skirmishes on the northern border. These will turn into battles. I must win them. I will win them. In the name of the Prince, in the name of the Queen, and in the name of my Second Army, I will win them.


Acosta - Journalist Caseya Duarte


Ten soldiers dead, seven Guardia Civil dead, four police officers dead, and at least 30 wounded. That was the final count after resistance had been eliminated in this sector. Their bodies lay on the back of trucks waiting for the permission to leave. At least it wasn't raining, Caseya thought.

A journalist for The Western Report, a generally well-known newspaper company, Caseya Duarte continued to write about what happened in her notebook while the wounded were getting attention from medical personnel just close by the apartment blocks that the Loyalists had finished clearing out. While making a few sketches to add to her notes, it was easy to think of how far things have come.

She had been with the Loyalist forces ever since they moved away from the Republican areas. When Prince Tobias, with the approval of many of the nobility, as well as the higher classes that chose not to become nobles for whatever reason, established himself in Acosta, she couldn't resist the call to work on another long-term story. It would be a project she hoped would gain the attention of the world and not just come to pass as yet another achievement recognized only by her country.

She had been lucky to have spoken to many once she got to the capital of Azenia. It seemed painful for many Azenians, especially those whose tribes or families were connected to the monarchy, to accept the fact that Queen Reina had been captured together with her guards, her servants, and who else was in the old capital. Although wondrous people like General Vasques and her forces were unwavering in their efforts to attempt a forceful rescue, such heroic deeds cannot win victories on their own.

The Loyalists, also called the Monarchists by outsiders, would have to grit their teeth and accept the challenge given them by these rebels.

She's seen what the Second Army was up to. Their regrouping efforts are still underway, but so far they seem to be doing fairly well. Such efforts were happening across all other territories still honoring their oaths to the government that formed in Queen Reina's name. Unfortunately, she couldn't be everywhere. If she got the time, she might go down to see how the Fifth Army were doing.

Yet, even within Azenia, the presence of the enemy was hard to ignore. That was why despite her requests, the Loyalists didn't want a journalist like Caseya to risk her life by going south. Nobody was sure if the Republicans fighting in the pockets would be so keen on respecting the rules of war. This rebellion seems to have convinced many that the days of the Queendom are numbered. Caseya frowned as she recalled the times that she's been shot at or harassed by people who had whatever reason to be unhappy with the Loyalists. Yet, was it not the same for those in the areas controlled by the Republicans? As much as she'd like to know about that too, it wasn't her priority. It was always the story she had that took first place.

While it might be true, as strange and perhaps horrid it is to think about, it appeared that the Queendom was not going to let its days be shortened without a fight to preserve its legitimacy.

She turned her attention back to what was going on around her when someone cleared their voice near her. A uniformed woman with a haircut rougher than any woman she's met or seen. She had the insignia of the Guardia Civil on her arms and her chest pockets. She was smiling at her. By her side, another member of the Guardia Civil. This one, however, had a mask on, and she seemed to prefer her hair short and darker than the smiling one.

"Phylessa! Orinda! You're both here!" Caseya before she hurried over and embraced the two.

They held one another for a moment before Caseya let go. Just before Caseya could say another word, the smiling woman put up a hand and said, "I see you're working on your story. Looks like you're still untouched."

"Yeah," the pony-tailed journalist said, "I'm all okay. I'm just making some sketches to help with my descriptions. How are the two of you doing?"

The short-haired one shrugged and said, "We're all right, Cas, but we're quite preoccupied."

"As if!" said the rough haired one, "Well, I'm not saying we aren't, but that's just putting it lightly. Phylessa here isn't too haps about the trouble happening in the city."

"Yes, that is correct." Phylessa shook her head and sighed. She and the other women looked at the covered bodies on the trucks. "If it weren't for the people we transferred from Rakshan, we might have had a tougher fight."

Orinda nodded with a frown on her face and said, "Yeah, and right now, we're here not just because we got some time off after we finished clearing the eastern districts. We're about to get north. You know Owariasahi, Cas?"

"The Triple Districts? Yeah, I know about it. Why?"

Phylessa turned away and nodded in the far distance. Beyond the Twin Bridges connecting the western and eastern districts and beyond the seemingly endless blocks of buildings and towers of the city, pillars of dark smoke rose up to the blue sky. The air seemed to occasionally thud with the sounds of distant cannons.

"We're being distracted, it seems." Phylessa fished out a paper from her right pocket and looked at it as she said, "The insurgents are trying to bring some of the people they freed from the city jails out. We think they're going to fly them out or drive out to the highway."

"Didn't the Prince order the city locked down until the situation was under control?"

"He did. Not all of our checkpoints are manned. Acosta's spreading us all thin. The regulars and some of the militia cannot help us deal with the escapees. They're trying to stop the rebels from entering the city through the west and the north. That is why we are here. We're gathering people to stop them from reaching their friends in the areas they're in control of."

"And you want me to come along with you?"

"That's not what I-"

"Sure. We want you to have this in your story," said Orinda, ignoring the glare that Phylessa was shooting at her. Orinda clapped her hands a few times and turned around, getting ready to walk out. "When we catch them, this will make the headlines!"

"Orin, you just want to have fun with this, don't you?" Phylessa said, raising a brow at her.

"Come on! It's exciting. We're going to get ourselves some prizes." Without waiting, she happily walked on.

Phylessa sighed, looked over at Caseya and waved her over. "Just keep close and be careful, Cas. It's going to be more dangerous."

"I'll take care, Phy. I'm not letting anyone stop my story."

"Nobody will stop your writing, Cas, but I don't want anyone hurting you at all. Now come on, we can't waste time."

Soon enough, the women left this part of the city, their minds turned to getting up to the north.

---

Developments in the General Situation


Fierce Republican resistance continues in La Oreno despite continued Monarchist attacks and attempts to go around their defenses. This has bought more time for the First Army of the Republican forces to continue their mobilization and to send more reinforcements to the southwest. The new government in Sanho is satisfied. Within the people who have gone over to the fight for restoring democracy, a great hope has grown.

Meanwhile in Acosta, the Monarchists have succeeded in clearing more of the city, destroying opposition and forcing many rebels to either flee or surrender. However, Monarchist security forces, with the Guardia Civil leading their efforts, are now working to stop the escape of freed politicians.

Although Azenia continues to deal with pockets of resistance and uprisings by those sympathetic to the rebels, the Monarchists are relieved to have a secure capital. Prince Tobias has gained greater support now from the higher classes of the country and the return of stability in central Azenia has made it easier for Monarchist commanders to reorganize their forces and prepare to properly fight this civil war.

However, south of Azenia and Solisia, the situation is more complicated. Pockets of Republican resistance are far more common in Rasur than in Azenia. Though the leaders of the Rasur State promised loyalty to the Monarchists, it would be ignorant to claim that the whole of Rasur agreed with them. Many farm laborers and the rest of the poorer classes in the state were unwilling to put up with their conditions and their bosses. They were later joined by an unlikely ally.

The Sayarians, long standing enemies of both the Mantagonians and the Rasur, have chosen to throw their hat in with the Republicans, their leaders swayed by promises from Sanho. Their desires seemed more in line with revenge and violence than in caring too much about restoring democracy. While they also mobilize and carry out skirmishes and raids, the rest of the country decided against joining any side.

Despite the damage these Republican forces are doing to Monarchist stability and the integrity of their lines of communication and supply, the reality for two Republican armies is not good. Trapped in the very center of the country and Western Rasur, these soldiers are forced to consider a fighting retreat that would bring them into the safety of fellow Republican forces and escape the Monarchist formations that betrayed them and wished to destroy them and weaken the Republican cause.

The Elizaran islands are burning with both Monarchists and Republicans fighting each other for control of the ports and naval bases there. The cities of the archipelago are either falling to the control of one side or the other. In the waters all around Solisia, the once united Navy of the country has split viciously. Fortunately for the Republicans, most sailors and officers pledged themselves and their ships to the cause. While many are leaving bases and ports seized by Monarchists or chased out by people who wanted nothing to do with the war, others are sailing with determination to raid and attack one another or the ports and coastal cities belonging to the opposing side.

For those who did not wish to join the civil war as it progressed and more fighting became widespread, a neutrality movement led by the United Kingdom of Mantagonia proclaimed that it would not join hands with any faction. Much of the wider south, inhabited by the Cadenians, the Sonu, and the Ersians, have all united with the Mantagonians, raising their own militias and joining ranks with elements of the former Solisian military that declared themselves protectors of their homelands first before any other.

Abroad, many Solisian citizens were forced to realize that they were stranded in foreign lands. It would not be safe for any of them to return home. Yet, many of them would contemplate returning as volunteers for the factions they support. The rest preferred to stay or to find another way of contributing to their favored cause.

The war has only just started. The only way out of it is through.

[Severina]

Constantino brooded, as he watched the waves rush gently back and forth. He'd never much cared for the beach but he needed a place to think, and that was becoming much harder at home as his family grew in size. There was a lot for him to think about, which just made him all the more resentful. He longed for the old days. Just five years ago, he had something approaching the perfect life. He got to fly a state-of-the-art fighter, with no apparent risk of facing actual combat, a beautiful wife who loved him just as fiercely as she had when they were teenagers, and a decent wage to smooth all the complexities of economic life.

Now, he flew less often, yet the prospect of combat loomed over head. His wife still loved him, but not quite so passionately, and what had once been a spacious apartment was now overrun by two children, with a third on the way, and an au pair. So, here he was, on some beach he didn't even know the name of, nursing a coke and lamenting his lot in life, as a well-paid navy officer with a beautiful wife. He was not too far gone for self-awareness, but that made it sting all the more. Whereas he really didn't have all that much to complain about, he burned with guilt and resentment.

He realised, now, why some men seemed to steam headlong into self-destruction. He was still young and handsome enough to go into just about any nightclub and find a lady to blacken his marriage. Whether he really wanted to do that, he didn't know, but the fact that the thought had occurred to him at least a few times left him deeply troubled. Mercifully dragging him away from his thoughts, his phone buzzed violently against the little plastic side table he'd left it on. He'd told his wife not to bother him, so it probably meant he'd soon be heading back to work.

'Lieutenant Rappa?' a voice called. It was one he vaguely recognised but couldn't put a face or name to.

'Yes.'

'Report to the Aquila, at once. She is docked at the Porto dei Gatti.'

Constantino allowed himself a weary exhale away from the phone before replying, 'yes.' The fact that the ship was docked much further south than it had been just a few days ago suggested quite a lot but he pushed the trepidation out of his mind, lifted himself out of his lounge chair and set off home. Thankfully, the buses came regularly on the coast, so he practically didn't have to stop walking as he traipsed up the beach, onto the pavement and into the open doors of a a big blue trolleybus. He scanned his pass and headed down to his seat in one fluid motion, choosing to sit at the back for what would be a twenty minute journey.

He finished his cola and then just stared out at the passing cityscape, rather than contend with any more of his bad feelings. There was a bus stop just a few blocks away from his building and he decided to saunter. Once he arrived, he heard one of the children call out, 'papa!' and Eva came to greet him.

'Where's Maria?' he asked, out of obligation, as he went to the wardrobe for his uniform.

'She's out getting groceries.' At that, he regarded the young woman, thoughtfully. She was short and youthful but full figured, with big brown eyes and long black hair.

'Shouldn't you be the one getting groceries?'

Eva raised her hands, as if in surrender, 'sorry, sir, your wife insisted.'

That seemed like her. He hummed in response and then bagged up his clothes, 'I'll get changed once I'm there. Tell Maria that I'll be at sea for a while.'

With that, he left, lingering only long enough to throw his empty glass bottle into the recycling bin. The walk to the train station didn't take too long, as he marched with purpose. After settling in for the ride, he finally decided to check his phone to confirm what he suspected. The Prime Minister had announced the deployment of a fleet to the sea around the Mushroom Islands. Nothing was being ruled out, but very little was being ruled in. He'd had a while to get used to the idea of real action but it'd done nothing to stifle the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Likely because of his anxiety, the train ride seemed to end quickly.
The Aquila, the pride of the fleet, was as majestic as ever but, now, it seemed foreboding. As he embarked, he could not shake the feeling that he had just taken his last steps on home soil.

Subsequent events seemed to go by in a blur, and before he knew it, he was in uniform and sat in a pokey briefing room in front of the frosty white-haired captain, Annibale Varriale, and his squadron commander, the ever smiley Rocco De Luca. The captain said very little, if he spoke at all, but his presence alone kept each pilot in line as Rocco described exactly what they'd be doing just four hours from now. On the board was a map of the two islands off Severina's southern coast, codenamed "Ragazzone" and "Ragazzino".

'Last night, at twenty one hundred hours, the Prime Minister received confirmation that the government on Ragazzino had agreed to formal annexation. At oh four hundred hours this morning, military engineers began the construction of a dock on the island's southern coast. The military was hoping to use this dock as a general command centre for our overall operations along the Mushroom Islands. However, shortly after work began, the engineers were attacked by hostile locals and the work had to be called off. Since then, a group formed in resistance to the annexation has erected makeshift fortifications along the harbour.

These works are crude and will not stand up to much pressure. This is where you come in. Whilst there are plenty of ways to deal with this, the government wants a show of force and believes that a low-flying aerial assault is the most likely to impress the local population. Once we arrive, a sortie will be organised and you three will demolish these barriers,' Rocco showed a photograph of the works, hastily thrown-up wooden fences and dugouts, 'with air-to-ground missiles. It doesn't particularly matter how good of a job you do. So far as we know, the area is well clear of civilians. Once you've returned, a detachment of marines will disembark and take control of the harbour. We want the engineers to resume construction of the dock by the end of the night.'

No questions were asked or answered and the meeting came to a swift end after that. The waiting dragged on only a little, since there was a lot to do in the meantime andm at around one o'clock, Constantino was sitting in his fighter, waiting for the all-clear. With only locals with small arms to worry about, he felt some of his anxiety fall away once he finally got going. As he neared the target, flying low and easy, he was given less than a second to react to the missile that came thundering towards him. He pulled away as hard and fast as he could and then everything went black.

***

The enemy combatants were scrambling, out of position, and unsure of whether to retreat or hold their ground. Easy pickings, and, soon enough, they'd all been gunned down. Even if the harbour seemed clear, however, no one knew just how bad the intelligence failure had been, so they couldn't stop. Colonel Offredi ordered each team to sweep the area. The outlying areas were wooded, good places for an ambush, though no one had detected any fire from the treeline. Still, they moved in cautiously, constantly scanning. After two hours of searching, the colonel finally felt confident to report back to the Aquila that the crew were safe to disembark.

The teams were then given patrol duties all along the harbour, as the engineers got to work. By the end of the day, news had reached them that cleaner landings had been organised in the north and east of the island and that the army was being brought in to takeover pacification efforts. Talk in the subsequent days revolved around which of three things would happen first; the arrival of the army, the completion of the dock, or the parade for Admiral Angelico - the man set to take overall command of the fleet growing around Ragazzino.

It turned out to be the latter and Lance Corporal Paolo Toscani, along with the rest of the marines, were mercifully spared participation in the parade by patrol duty. Whilst they remained on high alert, no one encountered any action in the following few days. Either the resistance had spent itself or, more disturbingly, it was digging in for the long term. That was unlikely to be his fight, however. Soon after the admiral arrived on the island, most everyone could be seen watching a broadcast on their phone. The Prime Minister spoke curtly, saying what some hoped, and others dreaded to hear.

'The outrage that has been playing out on our doorstep has escalated to such an extent that it has become impossible for the government to sit idly by. Many of you will have heard of military operations taking place outside our borders, and I can assure you that these measures were taken in the interests of national security. These actions are supported by the Stadtholder and he has authorised the call-up of our military reserve just an hour ago. These are uncertain times and there is no room for hesitation. I expect the men and women of our armed forces to acquit themselves with the utmost bravery and competence in the coming weeks and months, as we attempt to ensure that the Solisian Union's rightful monarch is restored. I will not be taking questions, thank you.'

[Holy Marsh]

Deep Inside Mount Mar'si
Mar'si, Holy Marsh, Romani-Mar'si Union

The map stretched across the room, laid against the walls, the floor, the table, the ceiling, the holographic display overwhelming in the detail and scope. Occasionally aides would use their hands to focus in. With dozens of aides and generals crowding the room it could get a little close. On the second floor there were rows upon rows of roundtable computer networks with a half dozen huddles analysts, and both floors had many doors which led to many more analysis centers which ballooned further and further, connecting to the Inquisition, the Pavitara Intelligentum, M-SAD, and other intelligence nerve centers. Down one of the hallways on the second floor was an elevator entrance. Only one person was allowed to use it, and it was in use now.

It was rickety and unbecoming of the Arsi'Elkon, but she had more pressing concerns with their budget. Nonetheless, out she stepped, flanked by her honor guard as she walked briskly down the dimly lit hallway. The hallway terminated in the main center of the Arsi’Elkon Intelligence Center, where her important decisions were made. It was the cream of the crop of all intelligence organizations combined, where their intelligence was shared and analyzed and decisions made. Built deep into the same mountain that housed the First Cathedral, it was impossible to detect as a special entity and equally impossible to target. Not that it mattered- only a small number knew this place even existed. The staff here slept in separate quarters on the lowest floor and weren't allowed to leave unless they were retiring. And even then most considered it a life-long job- be listed as killed in action, given the Martyr's Parting even while you live? Such wonders!

She strode into the room. The staff stood at attention first and then fell to one knee.

“The Sword of Faith!” They started.

“Is Her Holy Scriptures,” she finished, allowing them to get back to work. Ahs continued walking into the center of the room, a brightly lit glass room with a number of others. She entered, the guards stood outside, and the room turned black from the outside to give them privacy.

Six advisors sat at a desk, and as she sat down the walls of the room started displaying holographic information as the table also came to life, holographic displays and keyboards at each seat allowing everyone to work. Opposite her rose a tall, lankey red-head with too few medals for all the intelligence work he had done in his younger years and too few rolls of fat to justify his current desk job.

“Updates are as follows,” he began as the information centered on the military situation took up the space. Hundreds of battles were being monitored, with after-action reports and intelligence details filtering in. A number of important ones- some that he mentioned, some not- appeared before her ashs followed both. “Positional engagements around La Oreno continue. Monarchist progress in this operational zone are slower than expected. Continued guerrilla activity across most of the nation- we have forwarded the most relevant skirmishes and flashpoints for more in-depth review. We have upgraded the security of Acosta and Sanho to ‘secure’ and believe that proper government function is not far behind. The Elizaran Islands feature very little in the way of stable frontlines. We currently believe that the Monarchists hold the edge for the major battle of La Victoria, but truth be told there are so many minor skirmishes and engagements that the situation remains fluid,” he ended. A much fuller report was prepared for her. She would read it later. The military situation was not really that important, not to her. If she decided that intervention was needed she had better sisters for that role.

“Thank you,” she nodded as the first man sat down. As he did so, a younger woman stood up. She was a short thing, short but built. Working in the Productivo could do that, and she made good use of that muscle. Now it went to waste, but only if you asked someone who did not appreciate the work of the common Marshite as much as Luboski.

“Currently, we provide food, medical aid, dsafe shelter, and other basic needs for billions of our faithful compatriots in Solisia. There has been a continual 17% averaged out increase in the amount of refugees coming to our safe zones. This is most pronounced on the mainland, where average week to week growth is over 30%. A stark increase in refugees who have brought with them nothing. A dramatic increase in children and wounded. Despite the current deployments, it is currently believed that less than twenty-percent of aid routes are secured and some percentage of aid is likely missing. We have every reason to believe this will continue and grow as conflict reaches urban zones and grinds out in frontlines near towns,” she finished, sitting down as an equally large but dramatically more important report.

She read over it a few minutes. When she was finished, her eyes flicked up to someone new. She didn’t much care for her, but Luboski knew that the new Goods Distribution Service leader, Tabitha San’Gerl was the best person in the nation to speak on the issues facing aid delivery.

“Our ability to provide aid must be questioned. It is not only Solisia we are discussing. We still have a large scale operation in Xofrautan, one that continues to grow,” she pointed to the report. There were a half-dozen smaller operations, including previous commitments to friends that were not on the table. Most alarmingly though, the slow-motion collapse to their south was seeing their borders pressed and violence on the rise. They could not be blind to that for much longer. “The situation to our south is growing desperate, and we believe soon we will be forced to act. Already, aid sent there has dwarfed the Xofrautan operation. Both currently pale in comparison to our efforts in Solisia,”

She pointed to camps across Solisia, as well as the various aid routes snaking across both factions.
“We are heavily involved in just the logisitcs of this, and that is with a small ground footprint. As it stands, we are feeding billions of extra mouths every day, and the needs are increasing. There is a non-zero chance in the coming months that we will be feeding more months out of country than in it. Nearly seventy-five billion off the backs of less than half of that.”

She looked back. Tabitha had a lot of issues with how things were being run. The nation had too much industry and not enough farming or food production, and while she was proud of the work done to exact what could be exacted, that process could only go so far. There was no room left and the very soil cried out. Unknown to many, a breaking point was being reached and nothing was being done about it.

“We do not have the capacity. Our food production is already stretched to its limit. The current quota is failing even before these crisis are factored in. We have neither the space nor ability to increase this,” she tossed her hand at the camps on screen. “And even if we did, so much of our nutritional infrastructure is facing imminent collapse as is.”

“We shall dip into our wartime reserves,” Luboski replied quickly. The Theocracy maintained truly awesome supplies for wartime expediture. Excess food, budget, gear- anything and everything was stockpiled. The ongoing goalpost was the Theocracy needed to continue without a change in operation for five years, even if it could not manufacture a single item.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“That would solve the crisis, yes. But that reserve is meant for homeland defense,” Tabitha replied, her voice allowing for the Arsi’Elkon to follow up.

“I will not allow the people to starve when we can avoid it. The reserves will be opened.”

“Understood, Your Holiness. But can we afford to do it openly? It would tell our friends and enemies that our capacity for response has a limit.”

That was the real issue at play. The Theocracy could not be seen to falter. Not from a personnel standpoint, like when the Arsi’Elkon was missing. It needed to appear to have an unlimited and unwavering capacity to respond to any situation unfailingly. Even if reality decreed there must be some limit, the Theocracy needed to appear to defy that. There was always another soldier, another tank, more food, more oil, another city, another generation. Always more food. Always more, never less. To be as vast as the starry galaxy and beyond; to defy material reality through faith. It was the most paramount of Marshite deterrent steps. You can not fight the endless blaze of the sun unless you knew there was a night to come. In some ways there was more truth to this belief than a lie- ask those that had chosen to struggle existentially with the Faith.

To open the reserves would signal the situation was growing beyond them to some degree. It would be a small appearance of weakness, but sometimes that is all it took. Luboski recognized that. She also knew that weakness could be buffed out by strength. She would open the reserves to save some lives now, and in the future, aggression would inevitably take more. Such was the price of reality.

“There will be other methods of rectifying this error of thought. It will not come at the cost of dead Marshites that we could have saved. The reserves will be opened,” she turned quickly to a previously silent person. He was a good man, but Luboski had grown tired of Raynard’s insistence over the years. Considering his position, she was surprised he was willing to fail. The Meritocracy Sarda was ruthless. “I suppose you will now try again?”

For his part, he kept to the facts. He would only fail when he gave up.
“Casualties are rising. Existential threats to the Solisian people are being created. The damage to the Romani-Mar’si Union is evident. Fighting of all kinds inches closer to the safe zones we protect,” he focused the map on the borders of Mantagonia, where an RMU security patrol had been hit by artillery, and anearby aid convoy became a flashpoint of violence. “We have kept it quiet, but we do have casualties on the ground. Accidents, no doubt, but every time it happens and we do not step in we threaten a greater danger.”

“And what Republican target should we hit?” Luboski replied, tired of the charade. “Monarchist instead?” She corrected sarcastically. They all knew where his loyalties lay.

“We have done this many times since this started, Your Holiness. You need not mock our clear allegiances,” he replied. His voice was even- he too was tired of being the waters crashing against the cliffs, but he knew in time there would be intervention. It depended mostly on who would be the one to make the cliff collapse.

“Then stop suggesting that course of action.”

“I have nine thousand fourteen signatures from Solisian government officials, officially asking for the Union to step in,” stepped up Engineer Caidan, the Monarchist supporter who was now the seventh such supporter to have been sent. The Kerdans seemed to think their failures came from sending the wrong person, not that they suffered from a fundamentally flawed worldview.

“It is not the first time one of you has said that.”

“For the love of the Holy Marsh Herself-” the Crusader mouthed barely above a whisper.

Lubsoki slammed her fists down, causing the display to quiver as she shot up.
“Do NOT!”

The Crusader gave a sign of their contrition. Emotions ran high, and the Arsi'Elkon berated herself for allowing herself to be taken by the moment. Blasphemy or not, she needed to be the one with the clearest head. Luboski understood why others failed at this, in this time, in this way. She took a few deep breaths and tapped the table a few times with her knuckles before looking around.
“Remember the words of the Warrior-Saint Lainika: It was immoral and wrong for foreign powers to involve themselves in our sibling conflict more than three decades ago. A war between sister and brother should remain in the family.”

Indeed, it was one of the important lessons that she had kept in mind. It was hard to do so when the wars were so close, but until red lines were crossed she considered it paramount.
“We are their family, Your Holiness. Each one of us, in faith and in the Union,” replied Raynard, to the agreement of all present.

“Indeed. We are. I have every belief we will be there at the end, helping decide our shared future. But remember that Lainika did not act at the start of the Bloodletting. She waited for a sign. We will not act militarily now. We will also wait for a sign, if we must move in militarily. And until such a time, I will not declare an open intervention into Solisia.”

********************************************

El'kon Council Deep Chamber 10
Mar'si, Holy Marsh, Romani-Mar'si Union


The eyes and ears of the Inquisition were everywhere. The people considered it a blessing. The arbiters of truth and justice, finality and judgement were right to have such power, after all. The El’kon and Kerdan broadly agreed. You would find few who would gainsay their rights and powers, not least of which was the very strength they so questioned. There was an agreement that the Inquisition did their job well, and very few would stand against this thought.

The Inquisition was, however, a black and white institution. No matter the misgiving of any given Inquisitor, she was going to follow the word of the Arsi’Elkon. Rarely did this create a problem for the Karda. Yet there were times, moments, where it had caused problems. The Arsi’Elkon could not respond to every Sarda’s every need at all times. Sometimes her commands were made without all information, and those closer to the situation needed the space to act quickly. The Shift had provided a perfect example, as a number of Crusades that followed resulted from lower-Karda officials not being able to respond to rapidly evolving social situations in thousands of countries without running afoul of the Inquisition.

As such, the Inquisition had made the decision to not so intensely monitor the El’kon Council’s deepest rooms, nor the Kerdan Council’s. Everyone who went in and out was of course monitored and if they had reason to suspect heretical activity they would be very quick to use their powers, but they understood that in order to function across the world the Sardas needed a place where they could, at times, discuss matters without the will of the Arsi’Elkon being enforced at gunpoint. It wasn’t much of a concern for most involved, as even the most critical of Her Holiness’ detractors routinely just felt she was a few steps behind and they were simply the unappreciated vanguard.

Operation: Diamond Nail was the name given to the aid operation in primarily Republican territories. Multiple Republican ports and holdings had been chosen as the ntry points, from the mainland to the islands. Food and medical supplies flowed in great amounts in large convoys flying the joint banner of the Romani-Mar’si Union and the Theocratic Matriarchy, providing all the protection of influence such a convoy could have with the opposing fleets. Cargo vessel after cargo vessel in large routes, long thick threads that she was sure could be seen from space. Jumbo aircraft escorted by wings of fighter aircraft protected multiple airports- airports and airfields that had, through agreement, been considered off-limits to the military of both parties. Operations Sable Eye was a similar operation being undertaken in support of the people of the Monarchist territory, while Operation Ruby Tail was that which was supporting the larger efforts in neutral territories.

The members of Diamond Nail Sub-Force 31 wished the others luck, but their focus was on Diamond Nail. Thousands of others worked just on understanding the needs of the People, let alone what could be done to meet them. By the time the requests made their way to them, it was a testament to their work that SF-31 only made slight adjustments. They often had to juggle no less than twelve different organizational tranches of aid for every convoy, and there was another convoy being prepared every four hours. The amount of aid was staggering, and they was increasingly running into superiors who were giving her a gradually tightening budget to work with. They would do their job.

Even the job the Arsi’Elkon didn’t approve of.

The door to the room flew open but just as quickly closed. The angry young vulpine who had throw it open would be reprimanded in time by the one who closed it, an older woman with more furs on her coat than the vulpine had in totality. The room itself was abuzz with activity, though much of it was conducted in silence. Holographic displays and laptops, papers and food waste. The table was clogged with the manners of work, broken by the a call here or there as communication lines were kept open for any one of several thousand tasks that may need their approval. The vulpine charged into his chair, his tail wiping away a mess on it even as he sat down and gave a near guttural grow.

"Red lines. Always with the red lines," the vulpine seethed as he took his seat, tossing his ears back in frustration as he downed some coffee. The Crusader Sarda did not much care for waiting of others and Shield-Brother Ajan Zeinchur loathed it all the more when he ran against such Holy opposition. The Arsi'Elkon had stated at the start that unless one of the factions crossed some red lines.

"So no go?" Came the obvious question with the obvious answer, strapped to the sardonic tone of an elder Sister of the Moon Sarda, her garb even now glistening in dark hues even as the sun tried fitfully to illuminate that which did not allow it.

"Of course not."

"We expected nothing different. Tranche III ready," replied a Brother-Speaker of the Hive Sarda, his voice monotone as much due to the parasite he hosted as his boredom with Ajan's common complaints.

"These are not some random people across the globe. They are members of the Union. We have an obligation to them," came a reply in defense, launched quickly by Ajan's friend from the Tamaranean Sarda. Large and with long black hair, she was more than happy to get in the thick of things. Sometimes that meant throwing yourself into battle. Other times that meant standing behind someone weaker than yourself and being the breaker of their falls.

"Yet..." the Brother-Speaker trailed off.

"Yes, yet. The Arsi'Elkon is leashed by the Kerdan Council. This tug of war continues, even after her return. Tranche II ready," the Sister from Tamaranean Sarda finished.

The discussion continued. Members of SF-31 had been handpicked by the leader of the Sub-Force in charge of this system of convoys for their strong feelings on the issue. Namely, support for the Republicans. Not overtly. Not in public. Some were doing that, but by doing that they neutered their ability to do the work that needed to be done. Outside of this room, these were quiet, devoted members of the El'kon Council who responded truthfully but never loudly. They had an important job to do. Members would need to be rotated, but the work needed to be done and secrets needed to be kept.

Sister-Superior Ahmain Wuiurva of the Female Sarda cut through the chatter as she finished working on what was in front of her.

"Tranche 10 done," she said as she swiped at the display a few times before looking up. "We all know the truth. The heart of the Arsi'Elkon is with the Faithful. We are with the Faithful. This Republic is the voice of the Faithful. In time this will be made clear even to our loyal opponents in the Kerdan Council," she nodded before looking over to those on the opposite end of the table. "But for now, we focus on our own jobs. How is Tranche I?" She asked, the overtaxed younger El'kon at the end shaking his head.,

"Problematic. Well, this one is finished, but it will get hard," the one-time assassin spoke. His Sarda loved operating in the shadows, but usually with more violent results. He found himself tasked in ways he found exciting and daunting.

"Explain."

"Sourcing particular pieces of aid have been difficult given Inquisitorial Armorium overwatch," he said, leaning back and allowing his half-replaced back to crack with an all-too metallic reverb. "Of the seven thousand Sardas we have received permission for armory redistribution, Armorium overwatch has made proper transport difficult for anything but a small percentage of them," he finished, singling out a growing list of red or yellow operations and few orange or greens.

Armory redistribution was a fancy way of saying illegal arms shipments. Most Sardas in the Theocracy had robust armories and supplies, both to supply their own Sarda Guard and as part of national defense operations. Considerable grassroots support for the Republicans helped lower-level officials work with like-minded Faithful to work whatever military aid they could hide in the larger convoys. The Inquisition kept watch over the system but there were simply far too many armories for them to watch. If coordinated well, you could get enough aid to be significant, though it was almost all light weapons. No tanks and no planes, but plenty of infantry portable weapons. Even that had limits, as any shortfall from any Sarda that became noticeable would trigger an avalanche of issues to destroy the whole operation.

"Though, if I may interrupt, I have had some luck masking aid requests from some Sardas in the Union, allowing expedited shipments aid to some Sardas. Smaller shipments sure, but the Armorium does not cover it as well," Bardic Inspirer Epicoti Anj'Anj added, leaning in and closing his laptop. His eyes sparkled with mischief. The Sardas in Solisia were requesting all manner of assistance, and he was helping some of that military aid filter to those who requested it to aid the Republicans. The emergency situation allowed aid to filter to Marshites in need with an expedited license, and in this case, the all-important fast tracking through Inquisitorial controls.

"Understood. If you two keep at it, I have confidence we can give the Republicans the aide they need. Nonetheless," the Sister-Superior smiled and, looked over at her assembled staff. "Please ensure that we do not put at risk the release of general goods, general aid, to the Faithful. In that vein, who do we have lined up to take the fall if certain shipments are discovered?" She asked the Citizen-Cluster Cybernetic Host Ienkin XIV. The cyborg nodded, his one remaining human eye of deep hazel speaking in a way his voice no longer did.

"Potential Martyrs," he offered, their names filtered through the reports. "Some lower level Ka'yun through El'kon as well as non-clerical. We are working on paper trails and confessions now," he finished, pleased to have found such important work. The Inquisition was going to eventually discover what was happening. It was important for the good of the Faithful that when it happened, they had enough people willing to take the fall before it went up the line. They may fall, but the Work continued.

"It should buy us a day, maybe two. Enough to speak to Her Holiness, at least."

They all nodded. Their time was borrowed. The Inquisition was going to discover what was happening and once the Eye turned upon them, no secret would be held for long. Once the situation was triggered, the leader of the operation- an El'kon far above any here- would immediately meet with Her Holiness and explain what had happened. Hopefully by then the necessity of overt support to the Republicans would be made clear.

"Tranche VII done," intoned Ienkin XIV.

"All finished?" She asked.

They all nodded.
"Good. Deploy it. Get some rest. Especially you," she pointed at Ajan. "Don't fuck these doors up again."

The vulpine nodded briskly and left. Soon, they all left. Behind them was a whirlwind of laptops and holographic displays, papers, drinks, and food. She sighed. She oversaw two such shifts at SF-31. Oh, how she yearned for the easy breathing of overt aide. All of this cloak and dagger bullshit made a mess and caused her no end of anxiety. Open warfare was always easier than this trash. She took out her phone and sent a few messages, and soon was joined by cleaning staff. Her own Sarda would handle this cleanup- she could trust few others. After all, in the end all they had was each other, and hell was always more company.

[Severina]

Note: This post was co-written by Holy Marsh.

Theo struggled with his papers, as they did not want to fit into his satchel bag. 'I should've brought a briefcase,' he lamented, as half a dozen white sheets fluttered to the carpeted floor of the compartment.
'Calm down, Mister Carras,' the Permanent Secretary chided. A tall man, in a finely pressed suit, with pale hair and paler eyes, Piero Palmeri, had been in the civil service longer than Theo had been alive. 'Nothing that's written on any of those pieces of paper will help more than a confident attitude,' the man then looked sharply at him, 'unless you've entirely forgotten the government's position.'

Theo shrank from that remark, 'of course, I haven't forgotten.' It had been explained to him over and over. The foreign secretary had practically beaten him over the head with it, 'we support the reigning monarch, we want the situation to be resolved peacefully, all of our military actions in the past week have been purely defensive in nature, we want to cooperate on an arms embargo against the so-called republican territories, and we definitely don't want to invade Natirah.' He wanted to say that something like this should really have been left to the foreign secretary, or even the Prime Minister, rather than a junior minister but that would likely have got him a talking-to.

Palmeri nodded, before turning away and reclining in his seat.

Theo used the time remaining to practice introducing himself. 'Ambassador, Theodoros Carras here, how do you do? Ugh!' He tried to shake himself loose, 'okay, um, Under-secretary Carras, pleased to meet you. No! Oh, Ambassador Reijala, it’s good to finally meet you. Uh, Mister Ambassador, I'm Theodoros Carras, here on behalf of the Foreign Secretary. Oh, what's that, yes, sorry, she can't meet you herself, she's busy helping to facilitate an illicit arms trade.'

Palmeri rolled his eyes at that, but said nothing.

When the train finally rolled in, though his nerves remained severe, he actually felt some amount of relief. The capital was a wondrous site, that he had still not got over. Outrageous designs of glass and marble littered the city's streets and the embassies were all the more striking for their relative normalcy. Whereas some nations had taken inspiration from the rest of the city, most had settled on more familiar designs. As he strode closer to the ambassador's residence, he tried to loosen up and adopt a more confident, easy-going, posture.

*****

Ambassador Ealir Reijala made sure to hide the bags under his eyes as he prepared himself for the meeting. The Ambassadorial Post to Severina, while not free of its own complications, was one of the quieter Marshite postings in the region. Relations had always been cordial and pleasant if not incredibly warm and it was rare that they found themselves in the middle of an issue that could divide them. It was ranked as one of the better postings for one’s first move into the higher echelons of the diplomatic corp and Reijala had been pleased and devoted to the role.

Of course, the situation that presented itself now was unique in that regard and the Ambassador would be lying if he said he found himself in full control of the situation. He had supported the Kerdan Council when the Arsi’Elkon had gone missing and though the Theocracy did its best to paper over the schism that had been made clear, he could see through the bright red lines that pulsed underneath. Now the Solisian Union was tearing itself apart and he found himself the Ambassador of a nation at war with itself on how to respond, and Ambassador to a nation that was reacting to events with an agenda of their own.

It was an exciting time to be at a boring post. The Ambassador kept as neutral as he could, though as a member of the Sun Sarda his pro-Monarchical views were obvious before any digging was necessary. Yet he was called upon to enforce the will of the Theocracy, not those of his heart. A meeting had been called and set up, and his aides had done well to prepare the session. There would be a few important matters to discuss and while he would not be so arrogant to believe they would solve all issues at this one meeting, he did have hope they would come to some sort of agreement on a few matters.

The room was set. He had made sure that he was well versed on the many statements that he had been given over the past few hours, the cascade of news he had to sift through while organizing his thoughts and the Theocracy’s ultimate goal in Severina. Hopefully, all would go well.

*****

'Keep that with you,' Palmeri said, with a clear look of rising annoyance, 'but keep it under the desk.'

Theo took his satchel bag back and shot the man a look of contrition. 'Right,' he said, as much to himself as to Palmeri, and he straightened his back before entering the room. He did not know whether to feel relieved or worried that Palmeri would not be joining him. 'Okay, here goes.' He'd kept himself well aware of the ambassador's appearance, so he was not shocked, but this was still the most high-ranking official he'd ever had to go one-on-one with. As the Under-Secretary of State for Coastal Waters, ordinarily he'd be talking with businessmen or sailors.

Crossing over to Reijala, he said, 'Mister Ambassador, I'm Theodoros Carras,' and extended his hand, with his satchel awkwardly clutched in the other, 'I'm here on behalf of the Foreign Secretary.'

Reijala accepted the handshake with a smile, rising and taking the offer before offering a seat. “A pleasure to meet you. I am sorry I have not yet made myself known to you, friend. Please, sit. We have much to discuss,” Reijala said, his voice at times struggling to find the right words. There were so many languages at play that the Pushanian native speaker rarely spoke at speed.

'Yes, no,' Theo stuttered, taking his seat and dropping his bag, 'uh, yes, there's quite a lot to go over.' He sat up straight in his seat, before noticing that he hadn't pulled it in properly, 'and, yes, it's good to meet you, um, finally, well, shall we begin?' It then struck him that he might’ve actually needed one or two of those files in his bag, so he drew them out whilst adjusting his chair. Mercifully, the one on top had coordinates for the naval operations in Ragazzino and a map of the maritime border, possibly the only technical details he'd need.

Reijala cocked an eyebrow, tapping a pencil on his desk. “Do you need a minute? You seem nervous,” he said, crossing his legs while he wondered what this man was all about. Reijala would be expected to write the personnel report based on this meeting. He was familiar with Carras by reputation and by what the Ambassadorial Intelligence Corp considered vital, but the Theocracy did not delve or dive into the lives and personalities of their hosts without good cause. Therefore, he did not know much about Carras. “Do you need something to drink?”

Theo looked to the door, wondering whether Palmeri was waiting outside for him or if he had wandered off. 'Yes, water,' he said, 'apologies, I've never met an ambassador, and, uh, well this is a very,' he searched for the right word, 'interesting time. But I am speaking with the authority of the Foreign Secretary.' He wondered how true that was himself, but the Prime Minister had used those exact words. He forced a laugh, 'I'm more than happy to proceed, straight away. The government has a very simple and open position on these matters.' Perhaps, in some language, simple and open were the words for complicated and opaque.

The ambassador nodded and pressed a button on his desk. “Nicoletta, get us some water, please. Two glasses,” he looked up and let go. Nicoletta was a quiet convert from the local area and a fantastic aide and secretary, qualities that made her invaluable. “Do not be concerned. All is well here and I am sure you will do a splendid job,” Reijala said with a pleasant nod before he allowed himself to refocus on the task at hand.

“We shall begin on matters of a somewhat dour nature,” he began before leaning back into his chair. “The Theocracy’s official position on the unfortunate conflict within the borders of the Solisian Union is a Solisian and Romani-Mar’si Union matter. Severina’s public stance on the matter only serves to heighten tensions in the region and risks even greater bloodshed. Until such a time as the Romani-Mar’si Union has decided on the proper course of action, foreign involvement in favor of any particular faction is considered an egregious breach of sovereign principles. This is a formal note of protest, as declared by the Theocracy and with the consent of the Union, as delivered by the Ambassadorial Severinaium,” the Ambassador said, his voice even and without an inflection. Whether that was because he did not have the passion for the statement or the lack of command skill with the language would be Carras’ call to make.

The Ambassador did push a document over, signed by himself and the major power brokers of the Karda. It was a short statement that said, in somewhat greater detail, what Reijala had said. It was a protest but it made no threats itself. Too much was unknown about the resources that Severina was willing to put into play to truly make a threat worthwhile. It would be foolish for the Theocracy to believe it could keep all support out, after all, so the hope was to keep as much overt support out as possible.

As he finished, Nicoletta entered with two glasses of ice water. “Signore,” she said as she gave Carras his glass and a nod to Reijala as she gave him his. “Thank you, Nicoletta.”

Theo drank deep, as he looked over the document. It said little more than the Prime Minister had told him to expect, but he still took a while to respond, trying to recall the phrases he'd practiced. 'Yes, the Prime Minister's words have caused some concern both within and without the country. Whilst, it's, of course, regretful to receive a formal response, the Prime Minister calculated that it was worth the risk. Parliamentary arithmetic heavily favours support for the loyalist forces and he is under tremendous pressure to appear strong on the issue. However, I can assure you that there is no present possibility, whatsoever, of a direct military intervention by Severina's armed forces.

There is a parliamentary debate scheduled for later this week and once the Prime Minister has survived it, he has told me personally that he believes he will have more room to manoeuvre. In fact, resolving the issues on Ragazzino by force is another way in which he has bought himself political capital and appeased our country's more hawkish legislators. I fully expect him to show contrition here, and the Stadtholder will also be willing to officially renounce direct military intervention when he speaks to the press on the fifth of November.'

The Ambassador nodded. “I understand that the internal politics of Severina place demands on the Prime Minister. It is good to hear that the possibility of a direct military intervention will be renounced soon. I shall pass this along to Her Holiness. May these treacherous waters be sailed easily, friend,” he offered, taking a small sip of water as he eyed Carras up. Good man, and gaining in comfort. Reijala put the water down.
“Speaking of Ragazzino, the Theocracy wishes it to be known that it has also heard of the native government’s desire for annexation and as such considers Ragazzino the sovereign territory of Severina. Beyond Ragazzino, what are your intentions for the Vino Islands?” He asked, pondering the possibilities. The Theocracy had kept out of the affairs of those islands, beyond that of the local Marshites. This was not the case for others, however, and Severina moving now brought both complication and opportunity.

'The government is keeping its options open but it is committed to respecting the will of each island's population. The Prime Minister had actually hoped to organise a international conference to address the matter but his ambitions have been delayed by the crisis unfolding within the Solisian Union. The Foreign Secretary had even intended to secure Marshite attendance, before an urgent matter diverted her.' Theo wondered, then, how the tense discussions at the navy's headquarters were going. Hopefully, she was having a much less pleasant time than he was.

Reijala was pleased to hear that. How true it was at this moment was beyond his right to know, and was beyond Carras’ to reveal. The truth was known only to the highest powers. Still, it was news to share and news that was easy to pass alone. “That is good to hear. The hearts and minds of the People must always be respected in such matters. The Theocracy would be pleased to attend- this is not an official statement of course, but one I feel confident in saying,” he took a deep breath. “But- Brocciu Island, it was a holding in the past of Castille. I hope Severina is prepared to contend with them.”

'The government is confident that arrangements can be made to the mutual satisfaction of all interested parties.' Those were the Prime Minster's words, and Theo had to search for his own, 'of course, uh, the more reasonable voices that can be persuaded to attend, the more productive these discussions will be.' Some legislators were itching for a fight, but most had so far shown restraint. The same could not be said for some of the country's private citizens, who dared to dream of territorial enlargement. Just the other day, there had been reports of a boat being seized, full of self-styled adventurers. The sooner these issues were resolved, the better.

[Eitoan]

Ghastak, Upper House of Legislature
Vladarsik, Eitoan
Wednesday Morning, 10:46 AM

Lou Herb, Chair of the Ghastak looked off in the distance, distracted. The Wednesday Foreign Affairs briefing was pretty unconventional. No major or even minor crises were on the plate of Undersecretary Stegman as she continued outlining the progress on multilateral efforts to standardize criminal procedure among Eitoan’s neighbors, most of whom had a long history of bilateral agreement. He slumped a bit in his chair atop the platform at the head of the chamber, his graying hair complimenting his light gray suit, gray eyes rimmed by steel-rimmed glasses. Overall, he wanted to wrap up the briefing and move forward to pending judicial nominations. Three of those had been languishing for over a month, and he was getting tired of being hectored by Attorney General Venkempen. The room’s wood paneling and rich crimson and gold carpeting seemed a natural home for Herb, and he seemed to pretty much own the Chair. At least this was the view of many of the novice Ghastakers.

Foreign Affairs Undersecretary Marilyn Stegman held court at the table below the Chair’s lectern. This was the normal Wednesday Foreign Affairs briefing, this time presented by Stegman. Usually this was done by an assortment of section heads, desk leads, and the occasional ambassador, often working in teams. The most serious issues were addressed by Secretary Falkowski himself, usually in private meetings with Ghastak leaders.

“And so, as you can see, negotiations with Count Abravenel have concluded, and our legal attache in Agar believe revisions to the extradition treaty should be cleared by Prime Minister Shapira, pending approval from the Agarese Lord Attorney General. This will bring Agar-Na in line with our agreements already in treaty with Tupioca and Relica, and we hope to bring Volsku into the fold. In the case of Volsku there will need to be some give and take regarding Eitoan criminal cases in which capital punishment is possible. That my be a hard pill for the Volskuans to swallow, but overall we’re optimistic that we can get that accomplished before the end of year.”

Stegman looked up and smiled at the legislators. She turned around to address Herb.

“Mr. Chairman, that concludes my report on continental relations. I turn the proceedings back to you”.

Lou Herb furrowed his brow and looked down at the Undersecretary. “Thank you Mrs. Stegman. I think we can move on to other matters, unless there are any questions for the Undersecretary”.

Stegman smiled back at the Chair, then turned to the body.

A hand shot up from the second row on the right.

“Yes. The Chair recognizes Miss Langley”

Julie Langley, the thin, haggard Communist with mousy blonde hair stood up to address the Undersecretary. She righted herself, and held her head up high.

“Thank you Chairman Herb. Madame Undersecretary, I would like to get your view of the recent events in the Solisian Union. Many of us are eager to understanding of the assertion of righteous demands by the Solisian people that have led to a popular uprising against the illegitimate and oppressive rule of that nation’s monarchy”.

Two Civic Platform Ghastakers rolled their eyes at each other. A groan could be heard from some Civic Platform and Free Democrat members.

Stegman answered “I apologize to the honored Ghastaker. Foreign Affairs is just now reviewing dispatches from the Solisian Union. From what I can gather the Solisian desk hasn’t determined much given the information available. Conditions on the ground there are murky and dynamic”.

Lou Herb cut in “With all due respect, Miss Langley, a discussion of events in The Solisian Union is hardly germane to coverage of continental affairs.”

Langley was not satisfied. “Mr. Chair, The Solisian Union does fall into the Western Greater Dienstad realm”.

Stegman halfway raised her hand facing the Chair. Herb nodded for her to continue.

Stegman If you will, The Solisian Union is within the west, loosley speaking. But at this time we just don’t have enough information…”

Langley The people of Eitoan need to know if this government supports the Solisian workers and peasants, or the bloodthirsty warlords attempting to reinstall the reactionary oppression of the aristocratic class.”

More eye rolling across party lines. Langley once again seized on a triviality far away from Eitoan and it’s neighbors to tilt at windmills.

Stegman We are still gathering information. Our priority right now in The Solisian Union is insuring the safety of Eitoan citizens resident or visiting there.

Langley was not happy.

Free Democrat Thomas Hasek raised his hand. Before Langley cound respond, Lou Herb recognized him.

Hasek Isn’t it awfully early to make a statement? After all, we don’t have a strategic interest in Solisia.

Caroline Evans, Socialist Has Foreign Affairs been in contact with neighboring powers that are closer to the conflict?

Stegman Well, we have. We are on good terms with the RMU and with Severina, as you know. Their positions will be considered before we make any statement.

Maria Kovar, Free Democrat Would that draw into recent activity in Ragazzino?

Stegman We don’t think so. The developments in Ragazzino with Severina are close to The Solisian Union, but are a separate issue. The local authorities in Ragazzino appear to be compatible with joining Severina, and their discussions have been above board and by the book.

Kovar Would that include the Vino Islands?

Stegman I would expect that any similar discussions between the parties there, including Brocciu should it come to that would follow suit with those regarding Ragazzino.

Langley Can the Undersecretary commit to aid in rebuilding Solisia after the conflict is resolved?

Caoinhe Evans, Socialist Isn’t it too early to bring this up?

Stegman What we are looking for would be a peaceful resolution of all Solisian issues, and we are hopeful this can be attained soon. But here, the local interested parties would have to take a lead. After that time, and approval by the National Reserve Bank, projects for reconstruction in Solisia would be evaluated as to risk, per normal procedure, then recommended to Eitoan chartered financial institutions for consideration on their merits. Speaking offhand, as you know, we expect similar efforts in Tupenga to gain attention in the near future, so I’m not sure how much risk in Solisia could be borne. You may want to follow up with the Reserve Bank, or with leading risk lenders such as Eigenvector Finanacial…

Langley {screeching} Eigenvector! Once again this government is selling out the people of an impovershed foreign land to the blood sucking capitalists of Kelso!

Herb Miss Langley, decorum!

Balashova Valeranova, the 40ish Socialist Ghastaker looked down. Time was lurching by. She really needed to get on with a hearing about electrical power rates for farms and mills in the Malawani valley. “Mr. Chairman, perhaps it would be better to revisit the Solisian matter at a future date, perhaps with our ambassador there, or the section head at Foreign Affairs in charge”

Langley sputtered
Chairman Herb asked, “Does Madame Valeranova so move?

Valeranova I do so move.

Jackson BenAmi, a Communist companion of Langley comforted her. “Julie - let it go. We can follow up in a week or two”

Evans sputtered, pouted, then sat down.

BenAmi I second the motion.

Herb All in favor?

A chorus of Ayes rang outh

Herb Opposed?

The Ghastak was silent.

The gavel slammed down “So approved”.

[Solisian Union]

The General Situation

The war for Solisia continues. It spreads throughout the country without fail. Only the South remains free of war. Petty skirmishes happen near their borders, but peace still prevails in the deeper parts of that region.

The North and the Center keep suffering, witnessing a great deal of fighting that doesn't stop growing in intensity and casualties. Villagers abandon their homes while others lose them. Fires consume them if not drowned by artificial floods. Others are blown apart by artillery and air attacks. Towns and cities suffer the same fates, becoming death traps and killzones.

La Oreno continues to see fighting. Republican soldiers and tanks refuse to give ground to the Monarchists. The capital of La Victoria continues to stand as their stronghold. Meanwhile, their new government in Sanho becomes more stable as time passes. Blood and sweat of many have bought that time for their cause. All this helps the Republicans increase in numbers and strengths. Yet, the Republicans are not content fighting only in La Oreno.

Infiltration runs rampant, checked only by vigilance and luck among the Monarchists. Commando teams are in Azenia, causing lots of trouble. Large bands of guerrillas also were making life hard for the enemy. Even in areas where violence weakened its grasp on the populace, sympathizers to the Republicans were doing what they could everywhere. It's all slowing down the Monarchist forces trying to recapture Republican political leaders. They were escaping from Acosta but they had to move fast. The closer they could get to Republican territory, the better their chances of getting safe were.

More Republican forces are moving toward Azenia, sensing a chance to end the civil war. To counter them, Monarchist forces under Marshal Olena organized in Northern Azenia. While the rest of Olena's forces continued fighting to seize La Victoria, she approached the Fifth Army's leader. She made arrangements with Marshal Sayeed to further cement the preparations for the incoming Republican attacks. Most of all, however, she wanted him to take his army and shatter the pockets of resistance just south of Azenia. Still, more was being done and more will be done.

Unwilling to simply continue throwing men and machines at La Oreno, elite Monarchist air assault forces hurried to outflank the Republicans, landing near the city of Mira, the largest in Solisia Tertius. This has forced Marshal Ramziyya and the Republican generals already fighting to defend La Oreno to send detachments to help the defenders of that city.

Elsewhere, aid was coming in from Holy Marsh. Though they tried, it wasn't enough to alleviate the suffering all civilians were enduring. As their ships and planes continued to supply both sides and the neutral southern states of Solisia, the world did what it could. The Golden Throne offered asylum to the Solisian Royal Family. They have also invited the Republicans to send representatives for future, possible talks and important diplomatic functions. Meanwhile, Severina has deployed its own forces, setting sail for the Solisian islands in the east, their support in favor of the Solisian Monarchy. Rumors were going around that other countries were preparing to give their diplomatic support in favor of one side or the other. Other rumors say that some countries, like that of Eitoan, were not interested in the civil war, preferring instead to focus on other matters while trying their best to ensure the safety of their citizens who may be in Solisia.

In the waters around Solisia, the once united Solisian Navy was fighting itself. Republican ships were assaulting Monarchist bases and sinking Monarchist ships. In return, the Monarchists used anti ship missiles to drive the Republicans away from the islands they were fighting over and away from the coasts of the mainland they still controlled. Submarines hunted one another. Carrier groups sailed everywhere, their planes regularly flying out to find and destroy the opposing groups or to lend their support to the ground forces battling each other.

In the end, what mattered was the war. It would be won not by foreign nations doing whatever they wished nor by allies like the Marshites lending aid to the civilians suffering because of it. It would be won by the victory of whoever could make use of Solisia's industry and Solisia's arms.

It would be won primarily by whoever crushes who first.

---

The War's First Year - Several Months Later

---

---

Republicans

---

The First Army and The Third Army - Field Marshal Ramziyya Artigas and Field Marshal Íñigo Echeverría


Herramel welcomed her quietly. After a short ceremony was conducted at the city's best hotel, the Field Marshal quickly left and rode a car that took her to the army base where the field marshal of the 3rd Army was waiting for her. There, she made her way to the headquarters with two of her assault troops as her escorts.

She made it without delay, finding her counterpart bent over maps together with what seemed like his subordinates and members of his staff. Ramziyya looked around, watching many other Republican officers, both junior staff and senior, going around. There was much discussion going around, it was hard to really know what they were talking about unless she chose to get closer. She would have liked to have done so, but she had to speak with the 3rd army chief. There are plans to work out and time is not something to waste. She also had her own personal plans. For now, she went over to the other marshal and said, "I am here, Marshal Íñigo."
He turned around at once and saw her. Unlike her, Íñigo was taller but a little younger. His skin was a little lighter than hers. He nodded to her and smiled a little. "Now we meet. It's good to see you here, Lady Marshal."

"Please," said Ramziyya, waving her hand at him, "you need not call me that. We're just getting to work."

Íñigo chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. He reached out to her and the 1st Army chief took his hand. They shook and let go. He turned to the other officers who were with him and nodded at them. They all took the hint and continued with their work. "Well, if you'll allow me?"

"Yes," Ramziyya said, allowing Íñigo to start walking first before she followed. Her guards came with her. They all got out of the headquarters and proceeded to bring themselves into an empty office. Ramziyya's guards left her and stood watch outside after she closed the door after them.

Íñigo had taken a seat near the table and poured himself a cup of water. He poured another cup and offered it to Ramziyya. She took it and sat herself down facing Íñigo when he broke the silence first. "I didn't think you were one to take more risks than we do. I don't doubt you being sure about our defensive operations near La Victoria. Yet, I have a feeling that you're quite sure about doing well with your plans to bring the bulk of my forces northwest toward Azenia."

"You mean to ask me if I really am sure about what I plan for Azenia. I remember you raised your concerns about such an undertaking," said Ramziyya. She sipped some of the water from her cup and placed it on the table that stood between them. "I am sure about what I am planning. We've done what we can to reinforce our troops fighting in La Oreno and are now soon to fight in Mira. Even if we may lose Mira, we won't lose La Oreno nor the capital."

"You wanted to reinforce our northern border with Azenia. That was all you wanted to do," Íñigo said, leaning forwards, "and you allowed Marshal Nada to send some more of their own forces to join our forces. You wanted my generals to exploit the weakness of the northern forces of the Monarchists."

"Yes. There are opportunities we must take and with the younger marshal still continuing to focus more of her effort on us near La Victoria, the fight for the north will not be in their favor."

"I want to trust you, and I do. But..."

"But it is risky, and I have plans to immediately switch operations in the north to a more defensive manner should things not go so well. I promise that I will not allow our men to be massacred without anything to gain for the cause."

Íñigo frowned. "This does nothing to stop Carmen's partner from moving the 5th Army down to destroy our trapped comrades. At best, I can see our attempt at invading the north forcing the monarchists to divide their forces between fighting us off Azenia or fighting for La Victoria."
Ramziyya nodded and crossed her arms. "We are also divided in force. We, however, have the advantage in defense at the capital."

"The Azenian north is forested and has plenty of rivers. Their defensive advantages are plenty."

Ramziyya shook her head at Íñigo. "That is why I have you and your army. I need your engineers. It's also why we're counting on our colleagues in the air force and the navy. Yet, I understand why you are still reluctant."

"I am, but I assure you I will still do what I can. I am only reluctant about believing that this will work as totally as you may hope it does."

"No," said Ramziyya. "I don't really think it will be a total success. But it will help us."

Íñigo shrugged. "I can see how. It would make Carmen feel more pressure and it would also make Acosta afraid of us breaking through. They'll put more pressure on her to move away from the capital. If it happens, we will have more breathing room and give us more time to finish our plans for assisting our southern comrades."

"Yes. For now, however, I want to make sure that we can cooperate without arguing too much. I trust you now just as I have trusted you back then. You remember the New Army Exercises?"

Íñigo chuckled and nodded. "Yes, I do. Very well. We're going to get this done and we're going to keep it that way."

"Good. Let's get out of here and be with both of our staff. We need to get things started."

---

La Oreno - Lieutenant Nimati Serra, Crimson Wings Squadron (1st Squadron), Northern Army Air Group

---

"Stick with me, little sister. You're my wingman right now. We're about to split fast," said Serra. Her Kite was leading. The skies were clear. The lieutenant checked her instruments. They were good on the approach. Nothing was painting them.

"Copy. I'm the closest I can be, Crimson-1."

"That's good, that's good. Just keep doing that," Serra replied, turning left and right to visually check on the rest of her squadron. She would take the left wing while Crimson-2 would take the right. The Crimson Wings were just about done with taking down a patrol of Kestrels that were trying to help out the Monarchist air assault on Mira. They've just about refueled and rearmed when new orders came to get their birds up again and give CAS to the defenders at La Oreno. The Monarchist armor was trying again and the defenders were running out of ammunition to destroy their attack. Now they were close to their objective.

"Crimson-1, this is Crimson-2. It's time to kill all extra chatter. We're due."

Serra chuckled, keeping in mind to keep her microphone off. She always appreciated the seriousness that her partner had. It kept the whole squadron's focus on the mission while she as Crimson-1 could satisfy herself with a light touch yet still doing her best to lead them through what needed to get done.

"Copy, Crimson-2," Serra said. She switched comms to all her squadron. "Crimson Wings, this is Crimson-1. We're due. Start splitting on my count. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Split, split, split."

Crimson-2's Kite was first to move, rapidly turning right as five others followed after her. Serra also made a rapid turn, watching as her own five subordinates followed. She switched comms again. She wanted to focus on her wing. "Crimson-Left, remember we're first to attack. Get low fast now, now, now."

Serra felt her plane descend quickly. They all broke through what little cloud cover was below them. Serra was first to see how the battle was going. The Monarchist tanks were breaching the Republican defenses. Her hands gripped harder around her yoke. Her Kite's instruments came alive with positive targets.

"Mierda! They're already through," said Crimson-4, flying left of Serra. "We can't use our bombs on them without hitting our own comrades."

"Easy, little sister, we don't need our bombs. We just need our missiles. Also, look," Serra said, painting several APCs and other light vehicles that were either on the flanks of the attacking tanks or following behind. "Our bombs can take care of their infantry. We'll cook them after we scramble their armor."

"You're right," Crimson-4 said. "Crimson-1, we're arming."

Serra smiled. Initiative, at last. "Good idea. Let's not waste time. Get armed. I'm going in first. 4, you're with me. Take care of the infantry."

"Got it, Crimson-1."

"Very well," Serra said. She pushed her engines, racing toward the fight. Her Kite's computers helped her target more tanks. Six locked on. She waited for the distance to close a little, to make it easier for her missiles. After just a few seconds, Serra let them loose before immediately turning off to the north, checking her computers as they tracked the missiles now coming after their targets.

Little crosses vanished from her sight. She looked down on the ground, watching the tanks burn. "Splash six tanks. Gonna go for another run." As she started to turn for it, Serra watched Crimson-4 toss her guided bombs down at a dozen Monarchist vehicles and infantry that were scattering or just dismounting from them. In mere seconds, they were no more. A cute whoop came out of Serra's wingman.

Soon enough, the rest of her wing joined in. While the Left Wing enjoyed killing Monarchist tanks and infantry, the Right Wing busied themselves with hunting for enemy air defenses.

---

Northern Republican Pocket - Somewhere north of Acosta - Captain Naila Abasolo (4th Battalion), Republican Commando Group West

---

Captain Naila Abasolo was more comfortable getting deeper into danger than the rest of her commandos were. Most of them were not as experienced as the 33 year old operator. On the plus side, they were getting some more to add to their names. Two squads were following her, one on each of her flanks. They were doing their best to get through the forests. It had been fairly easy avoiding the main roads. For days, nobody has managed to come after them. Even though they had to stop a few times to allow the civilians they were escorting to the safety of Republican territory, things had been fairly uneventful. Now, however, they were meeting some obstacles.

Over the past months, Azenia has become full of skirmishes between Republican sympathizers and supporters of the Monarchy. That has helped Naila and her comrades do their jobs of getting in, making contact with the freed parliamentary representatives of the Republican parties, and moving them out to safety. However, it has not lasted. The Monarchists were quickly getting rid of the pockets of resistance. It has forced many of the remaining groups that were still harrassing the enemy to hide or to get closer to Republican lines. The captain had wanted to help them, just as many other Republican special forces groups were doing so, but that was out of the question. What mattered most right now was getting these important leaders back to where they can do some good. The Republican cause would be less united if these people couldn't be with the government in Sanho.

As she continued to lead her men, she stopped almost immediately when she caught the scent of strangers. Seeing her stop, everyone else stopped too. They looked around, many of them with weapons raised. Others made sure to check their locations and to swiftly but quietly confirm the status of their comrades. Naila was grateful that the Shift had blessed her just as it had blessed many of her fellow Solisian-Azens. She got down and so did the others. The captain waved the squad on her left to move off and go around. After she saw their squad leader nod and take them deeper through the woods, Naila turned to the one on her right and waved over their squad leader.

A younger looking Azen commando came over. "Yeah, Captain? You smell them, too?"

Naila nodded. "Yeah. I think there's a patrol. They're probably from the outpost near the bridge. We're gonna have to find another way. Can't let this patrol go, though. If they're close to us, then they're too close to finding the people we're escorting." She sighed and looked up. The day was not yet over, but the light was not as bright hours agos. She turned back to the squad leader. "We're going to draw them deeper into the woods and eliminate them. After that, we continue until we're a good distance from the outpost and make it to the border. Think your squad can handle being naughty, Lieutenant Joanna?"

The dark skinned Azen grinned and nodded. She looked to her squad. When Naila followed where she turned, she could see them grinning too. They had gotten the hint.

Naila smiled and shrugged. "All right," she told Joanna, "let's get this started. Sooner we do this, sooner we make it across the river before the night comes and acts against us."

---

Monarchists

---

---

The Second Army and The Fifth Army - Field Marshal Carmen Olena and Field Marshal Sayeed Malnada

---

Carmen and Sayeed stood close to the bridge, their attention drawn to the ones crossing over it. They had been watching hundreds of their men and their officers march or ride vehicles taking them northward. Helicopters were flying over them every dozen or so minutes, coming in and leaving for Northern Azenia. Planes were a less common sight. The Republicans mauled the Monarchists in the skies over La Oreno before rampaging through the armor of General Vasques. They have also succeeded in giving close air support to increasingly irritating bands of Republican guerrillas and commandos in Azenia, further aggravating the logistical challenge of moving not only supplies to the north but vital men to keep the Republicans from having an easy time once they cross the border.

The young marshal had her hands behind her back while her Rassurian counterpart, a tall man who she never saw taking off his coat and with skin darker than Carmen's, nodded along to the song that they heard their men singing. Morale continued to stay high despite the complications growing with the battle for La Victoria and La Oreno. That, however, wasn't the only thing Carmen wanted to count on.

She sighed and turned to Sayeed. "We're willingly stretching ourselves thin. Vasques is not going to be successful in taking La Victoria. She's done what I would have done were I her, but the Republicans won't make it any easier for her as Marshal Artigas is with this move she's pulling on me in the north."

Sayeed kept nodding along to the singing, but he glanced at her and said, "Sure, but even if they do succeed in driving Vasques out of La Oreno and destroyed the air assault forces we rushed to Mira, the enemy won't be able to seize the inititative from us for too long."
Carmen frowned and turned back to watching their men move. She watched their subordinate officers work with their staff or observe the movement as they were doing. She also watched as the crews of the nearby anti-aircraft guns and SAMs continued their nervous watch for Republican fast movers. The young marshal removed her hands from her back and set them on her hips, shifting her feet a little. She looked down, watching the ends of her trench coat move a little from a weak wind coming in from the east. "The initiative isn't totally ours either, Sayeed. Things are moving too fast and too often."

Sayeed scoffed and crossed his arms. "Really? Even for you?"

"Yes," Carmen said, turning up to him. "Even for me, no matter how many times many of those my age say I can make fire burn brighter without needing more coal. We need to be more violent. We need to be faster than the Republicans in the field. The earlier we are in getting our people in the north, the better our chances of defending Azenia and keeping Acosta from panicking."

"True, and I still advised you to be careful about it."

She sighed. "Yeah. That you did. I listened. I didn't want to, but I did."

Sayeed shrugged and looked away, observing a pair of attack helicopters flying over the river and following it to the southeast. He turned back to Carmen and said, "Thank you for doing that. I know it was hard, but you'll avoid getting toyed with by Marshal Artigas. People tend to dismiss her as having more conservative attitudes about how to win a war, but they don't really know just how cunning she tends to be. I'll make sure she doesn't screw Vasques up too much."
"Thank you, too. You're risking a lot. Like, it's far more than I thought you should."

"Eh, not exactly. My kin are not going to undermine you when they trust you more than they trust me sometimes. As long as they see my men coming down to help them with the problems the Sayarians and the Republican armies trapped in the south are making, they won't ask you to lose Azenia. That and they understand the feeling of having to defend your homeland from invaders."

"The Solisians may be invading, but we aren't all fighting just for our homes. We're fighting for a better country, a better union. The only difference between us and the Republicans is that we are fighting for something better than their tradition."

"We aren't all different either in terms of tradition from us. We're fighting to keep it on after a mediocre start."

Carmen bit her lip. "True, but the Monarchy depends on us to win and to prove to the world that we are not just going to remain mediocre. We can be so much more."

"I believe we definitely will be much more than before. However, we can't deny that the Republicans have strong points just as we do."

"Sayeed, maybe I agree with you, but can we focus on getting ourselves out of here and back to the planning? We need to make sure we keep making moves ahead of the enemy. You promised you'll keep the fighting in here going while I go north and command my army and the militias. Are you still going to make sure we don't lose the corridor in the east? That's not going to be easy. Your army is faithful and they're good defenders. I've seen them do the work, it's brilliant, but how are they really holding up?"

"They're holding on as best as they can. I've already sent some of my subordinates to improve things. I won't lie that things have been shocking, but we'll bounce back."

Carmen shook her head and wiped the sweat off her head. "Fine. I believe you. However, the night raids those Republicans are doing all over. It's really irritating. Marshal Artigas is decent at it. I can deal with her. But... you... you're willing to deal with three fucking armies while the only help you'll have close by is going to come from the 8th and whatever's still with you from my own army."

"The 6th are tricky, but they're too busy trying to get out of the trap that the 8th is closing on them. The 10th is what I'm worried about. They're fucking up our friends in the 7th still loyal to the Monarchy."

"That's not what I meant. You're outnumbered, Sayeed."

"Yes, but I'll make it work."

Carmen stared at him, the frown she wore slowly fading as concern came to dominate her features. "I hope you're right. I'll try to be quick with fighting off the 1st and the 3rd."

"No, Carmen, take your time. You try to hurry and you're going to get stepped on. No, stay and fight in the north, but do me a favor."

"Yes. Anything, Sayeed."

He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Get me some more helicopters and a few of those light tanks. I'll manage."

---

South of La Oreno - Somewhere near Mira, largest city of Solisia Tertius - Lieutenants Koren Do-Yun and Yancy Do-Yun

---

The air assault on Mira had been successful. The Sorena Detachment has done well to disrupt the plans of the northern elements of the 6th Army of the Republicans to break through the thinly held Monarchist line defending General Vasques and her forces from them. Though more reinforcements were coming from the west to make sure the Sorena Detachment of air assault troops fulfill their mission and continue causing a mess in and around Mira, the Republicans were unwilling to simply let this continue. Republican planes punished the Monarchists. With close air support prevented and Republican fighters in the air, the Sorena Detachment was soon attacked by the more aggressive elements of the Republican forces defending the Solisian city.

The Detachment now had to focus on surviving for as long as possible until reinforcements made it through.

"Flank! Right flank! They're trying to get around the fucking houses. Stop them, damn it!" Koren Do-Yun yelled at some of her men as they rushed down from the roof behind her. Her arm was bleeding, but she wasn't willing to quit her rifle nor whine about it. The situation has gone bad, but it hasn't gotten worse. As long as her men heard her and dealt with the fucking Republican infantry trying to flank them, then things won't get worse. When the guys on the roof finally got to the floor below her, seeing as she couldn't see them hanging around, Koren decided it was time to get her ass the fuck out of this bedroom.

She growled as she stepped back from the window where she was shooting at the enemy from and started down the stairs. The Elizaran winced a few times as Republican rounds came close to where she had been standing. She had to ignore the broken corpse of one of her men as she kept going down the stairs. Poor son of a bitch. It looked like he caught a round through the face. She had no time to grab his tags.

Koren was just about to get down some more when she found Yancy firing grenades with her underbarrel launcher down at the enemy. She marched inside the apartment her sister was posted in and said, "Sis, don't fucking tell me those fuckers are punching through."
"Sorry, Kor, but the Republicans are punching through. We've lost contact with Tynana and her platoon," Yancy said, loading another grenade into her launcher. Rounds flew close and both sisters had to get down to avoid getting shot.

"Shit! What about Rosario? She's supposed to make sure Tynana's not losing the parking garage," Koren said. She popped her head up and loosed a few quick bursts from her rifle before getting down again. She could hear her men racing downstairs to reinforce their comrades defending the building from incoming infantry while the others stayed at their posts and kept doing what they could.

"Rosario's injured. Sergeant Kimbras took over. They're pulling back."

"The fuck? We're gonna lose our defensive line if that's what's happening."

"Kor, they don't pull back, they're gonna get trapped and killed. These Republicans aren't quitting. These aren't regulars anymore. I think they're the real deal from the 1st Army!"

Koren growled. As a woman of the 5th, she had beef with the 1st Army's own air assault troops for how they outperformed them in a joint exercise. She started feeling the same soreness in her face, remembering the brawl she had with her counterpart. It almost landed her in jail if not for her friends ending the fight and breaking it up. She shook her head and said, "If they fucking are, then they're gonna get killed, that's what I'm thinking. Look, sis, you gotta go. Tell Tren and Wyra to call for helicopters. Tell them to hit them! Tell them to hit them hard! If they gotta fly low to avoid getting shot out of the sky by their planes, so be it. We need more support or we're not going to be able to fully capture the airport behind us."

---

Northern Azenia - Somewhere near Strambala, close to the border with Northern Solisia - Saeleti Vanceto - Vanceto Militia

---

Saeleti missed the warmth of the farmhouse, but duty called and he couldn't ignore it. Azenia was threatened by the Republican forces from the 1st and 3rd Armies. He had family in those formations but that didn't stop the Vancetos who stayed loyal to the Monarchy from taking up arms to defend their homes and lands in the north of Azenia. Together with their neighbors, the Vancetos assembled a militia worth 5,000 souls. They were the first among many to get close to the borders and wait for the invasion.

It had been several days already and new rumors were going around that maybe the Republicans weren't really coming through after all. While a few militias slowly abandoned their posts and returned to their homes, the Vancetos were not so willing to just quit. Being a wealthy family that had long prospered from their contributions of wine, livestock, crops, and more, they provided for their militia just to keep them at the border. Though, of course, their members were kept close to Vanceto lands as well as the lands owned by neighbors close to them, the Monarchists were glad to have them around. Marshal Carmen promised them, just as she promised the rest of Northern Azenia and the government in Acosta, that she would have her army coming up there to protect them. Her men had come to reinforce the Vanceto Militia, but only a handful of infantry battalions and two tank companies showed up.

The 36 year old man was sitting quietly in his dugout, trying to relax after spending hours helping the soldiers who came to his land dig trenches and foxholes. Fortunately, they had done it all, and they were grateful that Saeleti had already done quite a lot of the work of preparing the soil for planting. Unfortunately, that meant that the farmer couldn't do the planting anymore except wait for the time the soldiers left and let him fix the ground again for planting. He had no quarrel with them, but it had been hard to just accept it. It helped, however, when his older brother Arzt came to comfort him before leaving him alone with the soldiers. Saeliti had asked him to stay, but Arzt was needed back in Acosta.

Now, here he was, alone with a cooler full of bottles of cold beer. Saeleti took a bottle out, opened it, and sipped a little from it. He let out a sigh and stared into the woods far from his farm. It made him shiver a little, realizing that the forest bordering his farm was the only significant thing standing between him and what probably was the entire northern Republican group of armies. He took another sip from his bottle and closed his eyes after leaning back, trying to not think about it too hard as he did when he first heard the news that civil war had come. Sadly, not much relief came to him. Still, he kept himself deep and tried to think about getting himself dinner later. That wouldn't hurt. He may be a member of the militia, but he still was the owner of his own land here.

After a few minutes, he got up and sipped some more of his beer before he put it back inside the cooler and started making his way to the farmhouse. He passed by some of the soldiers in their foxholes and trenches. Some were asleep while others were quite wide awake, greeting Saeleti quietly or simply nodding and getting out of his way. Eventually, he got inside his farmhouse and rushed to the kitchen so he could get started on cooking a light meal of cabbage, onions, and a wonderful mix of ground beef and pork.
But deep in the forests, with little moonlight coming through the thick clouds, patrols of Republican infantry crept.

---

Developments in the General Situation

---

Hundreds of Republican infantry were infiltrating the border with Northern Azenia. More were coming. Behind them, the combined First and Third Armies prepared to unleash themselves. Though skirmishes had already been occurring before these infiltrators started acting on the orders of Marshal Artigas, what was to come would be far more than just mere skirmishes.
Meanwhile, the Republican air force seemed to be taking the fight to the skies now. After days of little to not air action, the civil war has now truly begun in the air. Just as Monarchist air assault formations continue to hold parts of Mira, the Republicans continue to ramp up their presence on the field. However, the Monarchists would not just let their enemies stay forever in the skies as masters.

Republican commandos and guerrilla forces continue to operate in Azenia. Resistance continues in Rasurria and the rest of the southern territories under Monarchist control. Skirmishes between the Sayarians and Rasurrians are escalating into battles. Although the rest of the south remains untouched, with both sides exercising more tight control and discipline over their forces to prevent more accidental harm being done to Marshite attempts of delivering aid and assistance to the civilians of the entire country, the situation of the trapped 6th and 11th Republican Armies persists. Both sides are now realizing how important it is to deal with it.
For now, however, the momentum remains mostly in the center and the north. General Vasques may have failed to retake La Victoria, but now she has to try to at least not fail in seizing La Oreno from the Republicans. Until the time comes that the 6th and 11 Armies can find weakness in the Monarchist 4th, 8th, and 12th Armies, it seemed that the fight for Solisia's soul still depends on millions of Azenians and Solisians who are now locking themselves in a bitter and bloody contest for advantages.

In the waters of Solisia, however, the civil war threatens to escalate. The great Republican Navy holds all the advantages against the smaller, weaker, and disorganized elements of the Monarchists who are forced to focus their efforts on supporting and protecting the Monarchist half of the divided 7th Army on the islands of Elizara. The Red Angels, the Republican half of the 7th army, and several elements of the much feared 10th Army, the Marines of the Republic, are fighting more fiercely and more aggressively for control of the Elizaran Islands. If the Monarchists fail to maintain their presence or to kick them out, the momentum will shift and the civil war will come closer to a close. But until then, the fighting continues in the jungles and cities and on the shores of the islands.

[Solisian Union]

Elizaran Islands

"Just see to it at once!" Shouted Captain Nikara Usanaterra, turning and stomping away from her men as they immediately ran to where many wounded soldiers were crying out for help. The highway was littered with vehicles that have crashed into one another or were left burning where they stopped. Captain Nikara ignored some more of her men who passed her by. They were trying to remove debris or bring the wounded to the medics. The ones who were too hurt or trapped were left for others to attend to. Nikara stopped walking once she came close to a few other officers who were speaking to one another. She found her Colonel among them.
"Comrade Colonel," she said, a frown on her dirty face, "we have forty wounded and twelve dead. We have a few missing and we are looking for them. I can't tolerate this, Colonel. We're losing so many men thanks to these Elizaran and Marshite bas-"

"Captain Nikara," the Colonel said, turning to her. The man had blood on his uniform, but it wasn't his. Nikara saw no wounds on his body, but he did glare at her, disliking what came out of her mouth. The other officers went away to attend to their own concerns. Two soldiers stayed close as bodyguards. "If you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting, I will not tolerate it. I have already given you my explicit orders concerning the matter. We will not discuss this again. I prefer if you will give me an update status on the wounded."

Captain Nikara grunted and marched away, leaving the Colonel to sigh.

Eventually, what remained of the convoy regrouped and continued moving down the highway. They had left the city of Sekebang to join the rest of the Naval Infantry fighting the Monarchists who were stubbornly resisting the Republicans. The islands of Magadanga were the most important of all the Elizaran territories. The Captain had been fighting hard, as did Colonel Oraniso, but lately things have become more bloody. Thanks to Monarchist sentiments among the Elizarans, it was not easy for the Republican Naval Infantry to operate unmolested.
This should have been a safe highway. The battalions that went ahead of them had cleared this a day ago. The loss of some of their tanks and transport vehicles made Captain Nikara and her men bitter. Colonel Oraniso changed their objectives for now. They would deal with the guerrillas after receiving intelligence from the Navy patrolling nearby and from helicopters that were sent out from the nearby airport.

They found the guerrillas and pursued them to the town of Simonara.

They destroyed them and fought off reinforcements in the form of police and reserve units loyal to the Monarchy. Colonel Oraniso had just gotten word that all three guerrilla leaders had been captured, but just as he was about to ensure that these prisoners were made ready for transport to a secure Republican base, he heard gunshots and screams from Simonara. He rushed back and managed to stop Captain Nikara and some of her Marines from shooting several prisoners. He was relieved that they hadn't killed them all. He ordered his men to bring the remaining prisoners to safety, counting only 50 of them out of 76. As they were counting them, he realized that some of them were not familiar. About 14 looked Marshite. That made him suspicious.

After he reprimanded the Captain and her men and forced them out of the town, the Colonel checked the bodies, stopping suddenly when he saw that ten of them were Marshites.

Their broken bodies were Marshite.

[Holy Marsh]

Over the year that followed, the various Marshite efforts to aid the people of Solisia went on their multitudes and various stages of secrecy. The open and clear aid operations ramped up and then sustained, with dozens of locations being entry points and airfields being kept active. In this the Theocracy worked with the Monarchists and the Republicans in equal measure, and even deeper did they work with Romani-Mar'si Union specific assets. The commander of the national effort was Chairwoman Greajal of the Commune Sarda, who kept her words clear and concise as to the meaning of their presence in-country. They were here to aid the people suffering under the conditions of the civil war. She was not here to entertain the politics of it save to say that those who tried to interfere with the Blessed Work would be cut down.

The political situation was much different. As an RMU member state, Solisia deserved a response. The issue was that there was a legitimate argument that either faction represented the RMU-aligned Solisian government. The Arsi'Elkon's proclamation from the start remained in force, but that had not made the year any easier. Even in the infamously tightly controlled information space of the Theocracy, news of the Solisian Civil War and the ensuing inaction of the Theocracy in a military manner had started to become a topic of discussion and concern among the Faithful. Weeks allowed the topic to leak into sermons, and from the sermons to the written news shared in the Sardas. Then the Sarda radio and the television- channel by channel until it was one of the more serious topics discussed when it came to Marshite foreign policy.

Of course, the Arsi’Elkon’s decree helped inform the basis of discussion. No one argued against it, but everyone had an opinion on where the fault of the split lie. Careful to couch that fault does not by itself demand judgment if the far-seeing Luboski did not find it such, lines were formed and fierce debates had.
In a nation of several dozen billion however, this meant that a small Marshites of all stripes would over time feel it was a religious need to do more. The Arsi’Elkon did not forbid the Faithful from necessary actions to safeguard the Solisian people, their sisters, in this time of need- she simply prevented the nation as a whole from moving in. At least that is what they told themselves as they eventually committed themselves to volunteering in Solisia.

Such an act was still not officially sanctioned. After all, to do so would be seen as the Theocracy endorsing a side, and the Theocracy did not do so. With that in mind, Marshite volunteers worked with the growing network of hidden partisan supply networks. Most of them had survived over the year- a few of the more overt or poorly masked ones were eliminated by the Inquisition, but many others survived. Soon, added to their shipments of lethal aid were volunteers. First one, then dozens, and over time hundreds until thousands of Theocratic Marshites were volunteering on both sides.

They were joined by local members of the Faith. Many Marshites held fast to their Arsi’Elkon and did their best to stay out of the fighting. Some formed neutral aid distribution areas or made it clear they would cooperate with whoever controlled the land but would not contribute to the fighting. Others, however, joined. They were members of the Faith, yes, and were considered Marshites, but they were Solisians- and they were not going to sit idly by while their country tore itself apart. There was no unified effort and that would have been a step too far, but Solisian Marshites joined both factions in growing numbers. The result was that between locals and Theocratic Marshites, it was an open secret that the Faithful were at war.

This made the position of the neutral Marshites difficult. More than a few raids had been undertaken to ascertain the loyalty of a given Marshite Sarda; more than a few clergy had been arrested or the Faithful persecuted. And most regretfully, some innocent Marshites had died.

The Theocracy had only one judgement when the Faithful were unjustly prosecuted, and it was delivered with precise violence.

****************************
Elizaran Islands
Operation: Tempted Claw XII

M-SOT 11 had infiltrated into the area easily enough. Marshite aid delivery to the region had been commonplace that marked cargo aircraft flew through the airspace relatively unmolested, with such attempts being silenced by the intimidations of escort aircraft. With their Romani-Mar'si Union command and control systems still being operational, they also had an in on the local air defense and communication networks. M-SOT 11 was thus able to insert into the area via airborne deployment over the course of a full day untouched and unseen, several smaller loads of aid supplies being blamed on distribution issues further down the chain and backed up by communications before and after to the effect.
M-SOT 11 had good intelligence on the facility and air base. Beyond the fact that before a reshuffling of assets it had been home to a Marshite air squadron, they had enough human intelligence before the recent purges and historical and geographical intelligence that understanding what needed to be done and how to do it. The team approached under cover of darkness and over the course of two hours once they arrived moved into position along the perimeter, doing so as not to attract attention.

Perimeter guards and defenses would be the first to fall. Designated marksman and other shooters took their time to line up their shots. Using BALCOTH, they were able to time up the point of engagement to the half-second and got shared unit targeting. Only once the majority of guards were in proper positions to be removed quickly would the shots be taken would the firing commence, with most shooters selecting secondary and tertiary targets and marking them. Other elements moved into position, bypassing perimeter sensors that could not be remotely disabled and working their way through the physical structure.
The first phase of the operation had been completed. The second phase began in silence.

M-SOT 11 Operational Leader Captain Ahtani Jarjau looked through the sights of his MA-20 one last time, reconfirming with BALCOTH his firing parameters. His first target was a tall, lanky Azenian, a little older, his features clean and proper. He didn't have the bearing of a soldier. Likely a new recruit to the cause, a believer in the Republic and a true friend of the people - in his own heart, anyway. His dreams were ended now, but Captain Jarjua allowed his thoughts to linger on the man's life before he sent him to meet his heathen Gods. He made a small change on BALCOTH and across the battlenet a timer was shared. Once that started, the man next to him authorized the electronic attack to silence the base. Five seconds, then four. The targets were painted. BALCOTH made small corrections. Three, two. He took a breath. One. Zero.

At once, or near to it, everyone fired their first shot. The Azenian died quick, and the second target was a smaller woman who was turning a corner near the perimeter nearby. He registered a look of mild confusion before he fired, then there was nothing else to register. His third target was a guard in a tower nearby, who looked somewhat alarmed and was looking for his weapon - silenced weapons or not, between weapons and bodies dropping there was just enough noise to cause suspicion. He never got to hold his weapon.

A light rain began as the first shots ended. The twelve shooters all certified that their targets were down- some cleaner than others. He released his breath and allowed the outside world in for a moment. "11 A, provide covering fire. 11 B, C, D clear in," he said over the net. He received non-verbal acknowledgements as the next phase began.

11 B team lead Lieutenant Sanzabar Saranida gripped her silenced MIP ABC tightly as they half-jogged over several corpses. Her fireteam was to sweep into the barracks and eliminate all inside. Her job was necessary. Punishment for their sins was delivered violently, and she was merely the instrument of this righteous judgement. She reached the door to the large barracks building and held her netcom to it- the AI inside worked with previous electronics data to provide an open door in a mere second, and her team swept inside. The hallway was home to a few of the Republicans half-disrobed or walking to get some food. The bunk rooms held dozens of sleeping Republicans, weary from what had been a busy day of anti-insurgent activity. The ABCs sang nonetheless, first those who were awake and could see the judgment followed soon by those who could offer nothing. She swept into a room and fired single shots and controlled bursts. Her fellows did the same. Of course, the clearing of a whole barracks building was slow work, and it wasn't long before a growing number of those inside woke up and realized something was happening. It didn't improve their odds much, as the armor was secured and locked down electronically- same with the exit doors. There would be no escape.

Still, men could not be prevented from forming some resistance. Some personal weapons were inevitably going to prop up. So it was that Hellsbreach thermobaric grenades were soon being tossed into packed rooms barricading soldiers. If only they had the peace offered by those who died as they slept, rather than be torn asunder by the power of a thermobaric weapon. 11 B continued its work, slaughtering through the barracks.

11 C's Sgt. Bainar Raijas didn't consider himself an instrument of divine wrath, not today at least. He saved his divine work for the fields of science and mathematics. Today was simply work, and he planned on doing it as efficiently as possible. 11 C was charged with taking control of the air control tower so they could use this base to evacuate M-SOT 11 and the hostages. That meant they needed the electronics to be kept safe, so no explosives and they needed to keep their shots safe. Entering the tower itself was easy, same method as the barracks. Once inside they moved swiftly up the tower, not wasting time clearing the floors below them, choosing instead to lock them. Only a few stragglers and guards were engaged. One man, eyes bleary, left a bathroom on the floor below control- too close to use guns. Sadly, for him, Raijas thought noting a quick knife plunge into his throat, putting it away and continuing on in one fluid motion. The man fell against the wall, but his fortunes simply got worse as the follow-up member finished him up with one to the temple before he could even imagine calling for help.

Once they were in position, Raijas sent an acknowledgment to Captain Jarjau. 11 A briefly turned their attention to the tower and picked out their targets, and 11 C soon had full details of who was inside and who was about to be killed. They breached both entrances just after shots were fired, the team's point men sending bursts of gunfire at pre-selected targets as the rest of the team flooded in, aided by overwatch fire from 11 A. In seconds, the air traffic control room was under their control.

11 D had the most important target of all. This airbase had once been a small regional airport with a detached terminal and while the rest of the base had seen extensive refitting and the terminal had been, for a time, a public facing part of local efforts, it recently had turned into an internment facility. Lieutenant Antoni Savrala was charged with breaching and clearing the terminal, which would be home to the hostages as well as the base’s command staff. As such, 11 D was a double-sized team with several overwatch elements. They were to kill Republican command, rescue the prisoners, and secure any other pieces of information on-site. Savrala didn’t expect too much trouble. Republican forces in the region were stretched thin and weary from the fighting. Elements moved into position and with more overwatch provided by support fire from 11 A, the team breached in. Enough entrances could be opened that all entry elements were soon inside without issue. For a while, everything was fine. Only a few guards were spotted and neutralized while command elements were located by overwatch teams.

It was then that the explosions and return gunfire from 11 B’s mission started to create a growing awareness across the base. The teams continued, clearing rooms and moving quickly but it wasn’t long before alarms blared across the terminal.

Republican command had by this time started to become aware of some problems, but once they tried to move into action, they were quickly set upon by overwatch elements. MA-340s and GR-88s from 11 D and 11 A tore through the walls of the terminal to find their targets, while interior elements used their connective battlespace to become aware of enemy movements. Soon, surviving Republican forces were hemmed into a few areas and unable to affect the conditions of the MOT. They would not be allowed to survive, though their judgment would come later.
Other Republicans across the airbase by now were fully aware that they were under attack, but they lacked the ability to respond. Those in the open soon found themselves being picked off by fire from 11 A and from 11 C. Some retreated into hangars or other smaller buildings. A few enterprising survivors tried to organize some sort of attack out into the perimeter, but such an attack could never get off the ground and after a few attempts came to a swift conclusion those who survived thought better of it. A real effort did take place to retake the control tower, but a fusillade of grenades and gunfire brought it to an end, and soon the only survivors in the base had holed up or were hiding among the dead.

11 D reached the location of the hostages in an underground portion of the terminal, taking a few shellshocked Republicans prisoner. The hostages were soon escorted out of the basement and through the base while the Captain made his way to the terminal. Captain Jarjau had by that time assessed that the base was reasonably secure, and all that remained was ensuring the safety of the team and hostages. He met up briefly with Lieutenant Savrala and took in his possession a prisoner- a Captain Usanaterra. Her communication gear was taken. With her in possession, Jarjua moved with two other MOT members in a position not far from where it was understood the Colonel in charge of the base was holed up with at least a half-dozen others.

The MOT was positioned at one end of a hallway, opening into a T-section that led to the rest of the facility. Across from the MOT was a small conference room, lights flickering on and off. Between them, the hallway was home to an open door into a side room, shattered glass, and two Republicans with growing pools of blood below their bodies, moaning softly. There were other injured Republican personnel too. Some of them were standing, looking lost and scared, while others were on their knees or simply sitting on the ground, too injured or too shocked to stand. Among those who were still standing was the colonel.

“Colonel Oraniso, your base is under the control of the Theocratic Matriarchy. You will order a general surrender of all Republican forces in this air base, or else we will be forced to punish those who continue to resist for the crimes that have been committed,” he started, his soft-spoken voice accented with a clipped sense of command that betrayed what could be mistaken for softness.

The Republican forces were not expecting this. While the Naval Infantry certainly were good at what they did, they were not counting on Marshite operatives coming in and attacking them. And even if they had, they were not nearly prepared for this. It was too much, too fast.

Oraniso was right. He should have punished that damned Captain for what she did. Now, his men paid the price. The Colonel was wounded in the arm, and the few men he had left were woefully outgunned. "I will order the surrender. Nothing else we can do," he said, his voice burying deep enough his shock at the events which unfolded.
The Captain was pleased that the Colonel peaked his head out to give his assent. A part of him wanted to take the shot, but he would take the surrender as it had been offered. "Smart move, Colonel. Hands on your head- you and your comrades."
One by one, the guns of Republicans were tossed out to the other Marshite operators waiting outside. Even knifes, bayonets, and other weapons were taken off of them.
The Colonel nodded and put his hands on his head, even when it hurt to move the bleeding arm. The rest of his men who were with him also did the same. They now waited for what was to come.
One of his lieutenants said, "the Colonel tried to stop Nikara. He was planning to have her court martialed."
The Marshite replied dry, even. “Your Colonel will be given his wish,” Captain Jarjua replied to the clearly scared Republican.

The Captain soon led the prisoners out. The bodies of dead Republicans still littered the terminal and the parade of the dead continued once they were outside. The other elements of MOT moved in quickly, and the base was secured in good time once the order was given to surrender. All Republican forces were rounded up. They were brought out near the tarmac, along with the dazed survivors found across the base. They sat with their hands behind their head, most still too shocked to fathom what had happened. Others were forced to have their hands zip-tied at the front or behind their backs. The injured were loosely monitored.

Eventually, Captain Jarjua waved for Captain Usanaterra to be brought forward. Two Marshite operators dragged her closer to Jarjua. She didn’t struggle as much as she did before. She looked at him, but she was forced to look away by the operators who still had her by her restraints.
“Captain Usanaterra, for the murder of the Faithful and wanton cruelty against the citizens of the Theocracy, you are sentenced to summary execution.” Before any protest could be lodged, and before Usanaterra could even speak or turn, a single shot from a pistol rang out from behind her and she fell forward, to see or hear no more. “May the Holy Marsh show mercy on your soul,” Captain Jarjua said as he looked at the Republicans who were left, at least four dozen by last count.

A few of them stepped back, some of them going behind the others. They all looked at him, especially at his pistol, and at the other Marshites who were surrounding them. He sighed.
“The beneficence of She Most High Luboski, the Arsi’Elkon of the Romani-Mar’si Union and the mistress of our souls in the Presence of the Goddess, is shown to the rest of you. Your lives will be spared. You may not be innocent, but grace will be shown to those who were misled. You will be allowed to leave this base,” he said as he looked around, the MLC-850 taking in the hostages. He let a pause proceed before he continued. “But you shall make your penance by suffering. This base will soon be destroyed. You will have to put your faith in Her that she will see you safely home on foot.”

Many of the Republicans looked to one another and murmurs arose. The Colonel closed his eyes and simply let out a sigh of relief, yet one filled with defeat. When he opened his eyes again, he first took one look at the body of Captain Usanaterra. Eventually, however, he turned his attention to Captain Jarjua and said, “You will not treat my wounded?”

The Marshite Captain shook his head. “No. They are not my responsibility, Colonel, and I would prefer it if you left immediately. You have no more power to do anything for your cause here. If the Goddess favors you, then you and your men will be able to live to fight another day,” he said. It was arrogance for the Colonel to believe the Marshites would tend to the wounded. This was a punishment. Those who did not walk out with the Colonel were dead or were well on their way.

“I see,” said the Colonel. “Will you tell the Monarchists nothing about what happened? About this?”

Captain Jarjua simply looked him in the eye and then turned away. The Colonel frowned but could do nothing or say nothing. He watched Captain Jarjau give only a little nod before the Marshite stepped away to give commands to the rest of his men to start preparing the base for destruction. The rest, the ones tasked with guarding the Republican prisoners, began shoving and pushing them out of the base. The Colonel went with his men, making sure all of them were off the base. By the time the last Republican stepped out of the boundaries, he watched as the Marshites destroyed the base, one building at a time, with explosives and incendiaries. The Marshites would leave soon, but the Colonel would not stay longer around here. He had survivors to take care of, to hopefully bring back to safer Republican controlled areas.

OOC- Helped with end by Solisia.