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Catrin Ness, a resistance fighter with the Vystland partisans, rode her horse at full gallop toward the border, her rifle bouncing against her back from the small amount of slack in its sling. Just a day ago, in the partisan camp she'd called home for the past several months, dire news had arrived from the scouts, of an unstoppable invasion force massing at the border in Fort Mÿn and Brymm, and a plan had been formulated: one that would most assuredly result in the deaths of the entirety of the partisan group, all to buy time for the egoist revolutionaries across the border to prepare. However, it was readily apparent that those egoists would need to be informed of this plan, and so a runner would have to be dispatched, delivering an encoded letter detailing the Pradian troop counts, their locations, their support, and other crucial information, along with the partisans' plan to delay them and, with the partisans most certainly marching to their deaths, the locations of all their equipment caches in the vast forests of Vystland, should the egoists ever manage to find their way to them.

Catrin had been the natural choice for the runner, and the subsequent camp vote confirmed that the young 19-year-old would be sent. The reasoning among the camp wasn't that she was particularly popular, though she certainly did get along with the camp's inhabitants well enough, and though she was a great shot and experienced on horseback, the partisans had better marksmen, and faster riders. What made her the natural choice, compared to anyone else, was the simple fact that it had been her birthday, and none in the camp were willing to sentence someone so young to their death on their birthday.

So, Catrin was given the message, a case of ammunition, rations for a week, and a black and red flag to show her allegiance so the egoists at the border will hopefully not shoot her, and sent on her way on horseback to race to the border after also being told the cypher. She'd rode through the night, passing through her home village of Brenna, now eerily silent and abandoned, on the way. Now near the border, she took the flag and hoisted it up over her head, it billowing out behind her.

Egoia

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Meanwhile, letters with very different origins arrived in the courts of Worklaw, Wielbelkia, Meincertarg, Arvug, and Czestowalskalia, delivered by couriers, the letters all sealed with the decade-out-of-use royal coat of arms of the Jölland-Cryssborg-Walce dynasty of Pradonia impressed in fine wax, and trimmed with gold leaf. Along with the letters, generous gifts of narwhal horn and amber jewelry, gemstones, and fine perfumes are provided.

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Though the Cormorant is spotted by the Pradian forces, Pradian command makes the decision to allow the plane through, to witness the new weapon of Pradonia and spread the message in the hopes of inspiring fear in Pradonia's would-be enemies. However, anti-air guns are manned, in case the plane attempts any hostile actions.