by Max Barry

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Seattle autonomous zone

The Dixie Confederate Union wrote:OOC: SO I CAN?!

OOC: Uhh... no... Quite the opposite actually. Seperate timeline as in, SAZ is the only nation in this timeline.

Seattle autonomous zone wrote:OOC: Uhh... no... Quite the opposite actually. Seperate timeline as in, SAZ is the only nation in this timeline.

OOC: Oof...

Toltecos

San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas

Hernán was sitting at a lonely table in the far corner of the smoky open-air cantina. Drinking and smoking, as usual. Most of the population had taken up those pastimes too, since there was little else to do besides laze about in the country’s cantinas. Toltecos was in a crisis. Of course, that line wasn’t new. Toltecos was always in some sort of sticky situation, it seemed. Civil wars, economic problems, incompetent leaders, corruption; these were the usual. On the surface level, there was a debt crisis. But if you delved a little deeper, there was more than just a debt crisis. The president, Antonio Leocarido, was ill-suited to handle the country’s situation, and he knew it. The unions practically owned him. He may have had the public support when he first ran for office, but not now. The military liked him though. They loved him, actually. For starters, he was one of them, as was Hernán, and he made sure those at the top of the chain of command were absolutely bloated with cash. Political favors, no doubt. The people were unhappy, but Antonio was untouchable. After all, what can you do with sticks and rocks against automatic rifles and tanks?

The bartender brought a pan of yuca fries and a bottle of Tequila to the colonel’s table. Hernán nodded, a gesture which the bartender was well acquainted with. Essentially, it meant he’d be receiving his payment later. Hernán kicked his feet up on the table and sat back with his meal. Soon enough, he found that he’d eaten all his fries and downed the bottle, and was now thoroughly drunk. He knew it was probably a bad idea. He was vulnerable when he was drunk Though he’d supported Leocarido initially, he’d soon come to wish he hadn’t. Hernán himself had a degree of political influence, and he used what little power he had to oppose the president. And he did this knowing of what happened to those who opposed the president. “Dissenters”, they were labeled. One night they’d go to sleep and the next day they’d have disappeared. Hernán knew where they went, though. For a military man, it wasn’t hard to acquire otherwise confidential information, at least not in Leocarido’s administration. Dissenters were sent off to a prison on the island of Cuba. A prison most didn’t get out of. Matanzas, coincidentally built a few miles away from a resort town of the same name. Once you were arrested and sent away, you were never coming back. Hernán didn’t know why he wasn’t rotting in one of the facility’s cells by now. He’d been a public opponent of the president for quite some time now, albeit a minor one. But maybe Antonio didn’t care that much about one colonel.

Hernán stood up to leave and staggered backwards. He’d gotten up too fast and was seeing stars. Between the tequila and the mariachi music blaring from the speakers, he had a major headache. He’d pop an aspirin when he got home, but first he actually had to get home. As he drunkenly swaggered over to the door, two men entered, both wearing military uniforms. Hernán paid them no heed and attempted to push through them, but felt a firm hand on his chest stop him. “Hernán Matamoros?” said a voice. “Eh?” managed the colonel, glancing around the cantina, then back at the two soldiers in front of him. It was then that he felt the eyes of all the other cantina patrons resting on him and his two ‘friends’.
“You’ve been charged with treason against the state. Anything to say in your defence?”
“Piss off!”
A fist collided with Hernán’s nose, sending a torrent of blood gushing out from his nostrils. Hernán was sent reeling backwards, crashing onto a table and sent tumbling to the cobblestone floor. The same firm hand that had halted the colonel’s exit now hoisted him up by the back of his collar. “You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not. Now sleep. We have a long trip ahead, and you’ll need all the rest you can get where you’re going.”
“But where’m I going…”
“Matanzas Prison.”
Through his already poor vision, Hernán saw yet another fist coming towards his face, as if in slow-motion. He did nothing to try and stop it, and with its impact the world went dark.

Most of the cantina-goers had fled as soon as the first punch was thrown, and the rest were hurriedly leaving from the encouragement given to them by the two soldiers’ stone-cold stares. As for colonel Hernán, his unconscious body was dragged out of the cantina and loaded into the back of a truck bound for the coast.

The order of the holy inquisitors, Kyavan, New Imperial Britannia, Droiden, and 2 othersBest rwanda, and Almadaria

The Dixie Confederate Union wrote:OOC: SO I CAN?!

OOC: Don't forget me as Dixie and I are the same nation now.

((Oi bruv stop spamming the RMB or git in me van))

The Ruby Ranch Republic, Kyavan, American Pere Housh, Droiden, and 3 othersThakia, Best rwanda, and Almadaria

The stars were glittering above the city of MineLegotian Canterlot, the moon could still be seen through the mild cloud cover over the city. Lina’s yellow silk dress still covered her body as she sat on the hills outside of MineLegotian Canterlot. The sounds of the bustling metropolis were more subdued out here in the countryside. Thanks to the rows of metres high shrubbery.

Lina smiled at the man who was laying down with her in their little secret hideout, a couple of plates of snacks was on the grass with them. Half eaten Prench breads, and cupcakes. A bottle of wine that Patrick managed to snatched laid open and empty next to him.

“This was something I did not expect doing when I arrived in MineLegotian Canterlot,” Patrick admitted, picking up a cupcake.

“Life is like that, sh*t happens” Lina said, stuffing her face with a piece of bread. She looked up to the nightsky, it was alive with stars, flickering in the night sky. “Do you think the night is beautiful?”

“Luna’s night is indeed a sight to behold,” Patrick commented, moving closer to Lina to gaze from her position to look at the night sky. “There was a many legends about the night back in the Snowlands,”

“Oh, what were the legends about?” Lina asked, her smile was something Patrick would not forget, soft and genuine. Lina wouldn’t admit it, but this was one of the few times she could be herself. Not the Iron Mare of Calavaria, but just Lina Emin, a simple unicorn with simple tastes.

“If I remember correctly, the star above told the fates of many below, and those who can spot the same things among the night sky were destined by the gods to be together,” Patrick said, folding his arms behind his head. Looking up into the night sky.

“Well, let’s see if those legends hold true,” Lina joined Patrick on the grass, looking out at the night sky. Moving ever so closer to him. “What do you see?”

“I can see… well, stars, oh I see Orion’s Belt!”

“That’s a cheap shot and you know it, Patrick,” Lina laughed, “I see that and also Big Dipper,”

“I see Small Dipper,” Patrick said. “Do you see…”

Amongst the shrubbery, a man held a tape recorder in his hand. Cutting it short as he got the proof he needed for his employer.

Running through the streets of MineLegotian Canterlot, the man ran all the way back to the wing of the Imperial Palace where the guests’ were staying. He grabbed the wall to his right as he gathered some breath, before running down the hallway again to reach a certain Princess’s room.

Knocking on the door frantically, he awaited for his employer to answer.

After several minutes passed, the door opened and a head with pink fur poked through.
“Madam, it is confirmed,” He said. The mare nodded, before closing the door.

Princess-Governor Mi Amore Cadenza took a seat on her bed as she processed the information. It was joyous of course that love was blooming within the highest ranks of the Empire, but would it survive in the field of cutthroat politics?

No, it won’t, she had to do her best to protect such blooming love. The sharks will soon smell the blood, and will soon come to circle around the pair.

Cadenza forced herself to sleep as she mulled these thoughts.

Back with Lina and Patrick, the two were much closer now, pointing up into the night sky together. Lina felt an emotion she hadn’t felt for some time, genuine happiness. She let out a smile, as she cuddled closer to Patrick.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Lina asked, even if her dress was slowly getting wrinkled, it didn’t matter. She was happy with Patrick. Some thoughts returned to her past, she hadn’t felt this happy after being taken in by Phoneix. She was finally being loved unconditionally again. She can feel tears emerging from her eyes. Hugging Patrick’s arm.

The tears of Lina didn’t go unnoticed, as Patrick moved himself to sit upright, and observe the mare that many often called the Mare with an Iron Heart, and wondered how wrong that name was for her.

“Hey, a-are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lina choked out, mid tears. “I’m just happy, very happy,”

Patrick instinctively hugged the yellow mare. Who simply sobbed into Patrick’s shoulder.

“I-I’ve never felt this appreciated this b-before, tha-ank you, Patrick, thank you so much,”

“I… your welcome,” Patrick was at a loss of words, what he thought was an awkward way to meet a new face had ended him here, holding one of the most powerful mares in the Empire, sobbing in his arms.

Was it that lonely at the top? He mused. The fact that Lina said she never felt this appreciated suggested so. He held Lina tightly. “I’ll be here for you, Lina, I’ll be here for you,”

Lina pulled back and looked at Patrick, “Thank you, you… saw me as a mare, not the Iron Mare, the Royal Governor of Calavaria, but as Lina, thank you,”

“I’ll always be here for you, Lina,”

“I…” Lina mulled over the words, she was about to say. She had done her best over the years to not grow attached or fall for any person just to protect them from what they could attract simply by associating with her. But here, a man was willing to look at her as who she was. It was something she couldn’t let go.

“I love you,”

“I love you too, Lina,”

“I presume, you were confident in your predictions, Princess Snowflake?” Said the Kaisar, peeking through the curtains and the road below. He had spotted Lina and a Snowlandian Emissary walking back to the Palace, with the look of two love struck pigeons. What had entailed was no surprise to him, it was love.

“I was, and I presume it has come true?” The alicorn mare played with her mane. The study was empty save for the two of them. The faintest smell of alcohol could be picked up, along with the overwhelming smell of ink. “That Duke Cooper and Ro-Gov Emin had fallen in love?”

“Indeed, drunk on enough love for a Changeling to overdose on it,” The Kaisar turned to face the alicorn, “You didn’t spike the punch did you?”

“I cannot confirm nor deny that, but how many people did you see even drink the punch? Most of them took wine instead,” Snowflake said, “Even if I did spiked it, only they would be affected,”

“It’s not a love potion, right?”

“No, just some hormone pills, gets them both more emotional, bam! Fall in love,” Snowflake boldly proclaimed. “And they will happily ever after,”

“I doubt it, without constant maintenance and us keeping an eye out, they can be torn by the wolves,” The Kaisar said, walking over to his desk. “The Calavarian Governor marrying a Snowlandian within your court? You’re begging for the Twilight’s to panic, and the Senators to try and plot,”

“I doubt this can be kept quiet for long,”

“No surprise, by sunrise everyone will know of these two’s status,” the Kaisar said exasperated, “let’s hope even with love on her mind she can finish her contract,”

“Which is?”

“Doing my bidding,” said the Kaisar, adjusting his tie once more. "She is... a valuable asset, it'd be a shame not to use her,"

The Ruby Ranch Republic, The order of the holy inquisitors, Vlamms Statt, New Imperial Britannia, and 4 othersBest rwanda, Rusliv, Almadaria, and Seattle autonomous zone

Droiden

Edgar, Skard, Tobian, Gilles, Fiedri, Sigvaldr, Andreis, and Arjen sit around the Gyloan Table in Stjarnavegr, the monastery atop Leifi Mountain. The table was cut from stone and carved into the shape of the Star of Gylo, an Eight-Pointed Star. There was a cutout in the centre, where a fire burned.

"Brothers. Uncles. Cousins. Nephews. We are here today to discuss the state of Kyavan and the Golden Throne. We have supported the Watester Concordat, among which our great allies, and religious brethren, the Reinkalistani, stand powerful. But, we must also look to the Golden Throne. Fiedri's sister, and my niece, Alyssa, is married to Marcus III, who will likely become the Emperor to the Golden Throne, if the Kyavani's notion that Alexander is dead holds true. We have much deliberation ahead. Who wishes to begin?" Edgar sits down

"I will begin. Now, as you all know, I have just married Rosa of New Tussia, and Jasmin is married to King David. Not to mention, I have a gut feeling that there is something between that Field Marshal and Ameilia. Now, if these unions are to be respected, we would naturally support the Concordat. It is no secret that the Tussian people dislike the Golden Throne. It would only be natural for King David, the Field Marshal... Rommel, if I remember correctly, and Rosa would also share the Anti-GT sentiment. So, out of respect for our close allies, we should support the Concordat." Skard spoke first, seemingly tired, but not entirely unable to speak or reason.

"Aye. And do not forget Hailey, Natalia, Eliza, Gilles, Hannah, Annelie, Stella, or myself. We have many relations with the Concordat. We should not set them at risk, as I hear that the marriages are for love, as well as politics." Tobian spoke up, a coldness in his voice

"What of your wife, Edgar? Imperiator Miska and Karelignia have joined the League. You would surely not put the Kongur's union at stake, would you?" Andreis spoke up, his voice raspy and coarse from the years of smoking and drinking so erratically.

The room hushed. Andreis had a point. Gilles eventually broke the silence.

"We must stop and think. Is this a matter of Quality? Or is it a matter of Quantity?" Gilles stood up "We must ask the following questions: Are there lives at stake? Are there relationships at stake? Is our nation at stake?"

"I have reason to believe that Alyssa's life is in danger." Fiedri piped up

"How so, Grand-nephew?" Gilles responded

"Well, you all know how Lysander murdered Alexander. Who's to say he won't do that to Marcus and Alyssa?" Fiedri speaks with a sort of urgency "We haven't heard from her lately. Sig, did you try to reach her yesterday?"

"I tried nearly four times. Nothing." Sigvaldr responded

"Blast. Alright, we need to speak to her soon. Shall we decide now?" Fiedri looked to Edgar

"Indeed. All in favor of supporting the Concordat, stand and shout 'Aye!'"

Skard, Tobian, and Sigvaldr stand and shout.

"All in favor of supporting the Golden Throne, stand and shout 'Aye!'"

Fiedri, Gilles, and Anderis stand and shout. The attention shifts to Arjen.

"I'm thinking, give me a moment." Arjen remains silent for another 30 seconds. He stands, and says... "Throne. I hear Eisanne is speaking to an Alpean prince."

"Edgar. What do you choose?" Gilles speaks

"For my best interests, and for Kaisa's... for my sons and daughters... I must support the Throne."

"It is settled. We support the Golden Throne. Andreis, Gilles, Tobi, and Fiedri, rally your Jarls. There is no turning back now." Arjen rose. The Lord-General knew what would soon happen

The men stand, sing praise to the Gods, and leave the monastery.

The Ruby Ranch Republic, New Tussia, The order of the holy inquisitors, Karelignia, and 7 othersRussia major, Vlamms Statt, American Pere Housh, Kafair, Best rwanda, Rusliv, and Toltecos

"There are few things in this world that strike fear to the strongest of men. Perhaps most common, and most dangerous, would be the eastern warriors. They dress in turbans a foot tall, and wield blades like their hands, screaming words no one can understand. They are utterly without mercy, yet to them, honor is the most important characteristic of a human. Every enemy in their path falls, and it is by the grace of god eternal they chose to refrain from striking into Europe, for if they did, there would be none who could stop the pagan horde." -Kristopher Gelfsson, Droidenean missionary and writer, 1892

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"Rise, those who remember the glory of Kafair! We fight for Helion, and the empire he marked his own, to return his spark! To battle, restore the Core!" -Priest of Heaven Otma Gauvai Fariz Said Set Gatalam
"Glory be! Guard your emperor, heed the Warden's calls! Crush the insurrection, for Helion commands it! A false queen of a empire past has arisen, preaching the word of lies and death! We shall topple her, and free those under her to the Golden Throne again! Solis Gloriam, to war!" -The Warden of the East

Civilians line up across the Eastern Pillar, registering to the army once more, the standing force already mobilizing. The navy has scrambled from port, carriers sliding from their docks and turning out to sea. Planes begin to fuel, taxing to their runways and awaiting orders.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Hall of War, Under the Royal Palace, New Jerusalem, the Eastern Pillar
6/24/2020, 7pm

The sun was starting to set. Assembled military men debated in the concrete box underground, as the Warden was busying himself, readying for a speech to the civilians under his command. Tensions were fiery, and while many privately felt their chances were low, they kept this far from the eyes of their comrades. Generals Tozen and Harell were currently embroiled in a back to back argument about the management of the Southern Front in Egypt.

"Egypt is cut. We reinforce the Suez, hold the bridges at all costs! We bulk up Cairo, and we may yet hold the Western Fron-"
"Stom et ha peh*! We will fall back, blow the Suez bridges, and drag them through the sands. They will fall!"
" We will not be able to strike back then! We will turn the bridges into murder halls! They will not break through, and if they come close, then we may shatter the bridges and strand them."
"Your plan is as idiotic as your voice! Egypt is lost, we must pull back to better our defens-"

A slam on the table rattles it, sending papers flying into the air, before slowly floating back down. A youthful officer with ink black hair and a short trimmed beard spoke.

"Silence, the two of you. We will follow Tozens plan, with Harell's as the fallback. Egypt is not lost until every banner falls and every man dead. We must focus to the West. Achma and Duran, organize your men, you two will be commanding the West. Establish contact with the officer commanding the line in the center, we must turn him to our side."

The two generals saluted. "Zeh eckreh, oh anachnuh lo nachzor.**"

"Damn right. The WTC may attempt to join this war. This situation must have those rabid barbarian dogs foaming at the mouth. The Russians share no direct border with the East. On the case of the Reinkalistanis, we must hold the Strait of Gibraltar at any and all costs. Even if my predication proves false, we will be able to block the Kyavani navy, and cut their lines of trade to any sympathetic nations. Admiral Zulvok, I want you in command of the force holding the Strait. Romait, command the force holding our coast. Your force must hold the northern coast, assist with the defense of the separated western territories, and hold the Suez and Strait of Hormuz. Lose any Strait or Passage, and we can only pray."

The admirals salute, and repeat the phrase.
"Air Marshals, I want you both operating in support of the fleet and army on the ground. Constant naval and land sweeps. Keep our skies empty, and we may see the new dawn!"

The Marshals salute.

"And so, my brothers in arms, I declare this organizational meeting concluded! To your stations my men, and allow the enemy to see the Eagles of the East arise! Show them claws and talons, and let them never forget the coming war! Koach Shel ha Shemesh!"

The assembled officers echoed the cry, before leaving through the various doors, and off to attend to the duties for the coming battles.
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The Suez bridges were always heavily guarded. Today, it was a little more then usual. Tanks rolled across them, infantry riding on them or marching alongside. Aircraft tore over the sky above them.
At sea, the navy raced over the Mediterranean, towards the Strait of Gibraltar. They would reach it in some 22 hours. Once they make it, no one would break them. The Warden had made his address the night before.

"This Kyavan is illegitimate! Down with the queen of lies! Rise, legions of the throne! They kill your emperor! They take your lands! Do your duty, join your forces! Arise people of the throne, reclaim your land!"

Mobilization was in full, tens of thousands spilling into recruitment stations across the Eastern Pillar. The Warden had described it quite nicely.

"The Deserts stir! The Sands tremble! Kafair had been the bane of the deserts, the crusher of armies! Never before have we been pushed from our lands! And we shall not be pushed back now! So now, glory be, Solis Gloriam! To war!"

And to war they would march....

Translations
*: Shut your mouth!
**: It will happen/It will be done, or we will not return

The Ruby Ranch Republic, New Tussia, The order of the holy inquisitors, Russia major, and 6 othersKyavan, New Imperial Britannia, Droiden, Best rwanda, Rusliv, and Almadaria

June 25th, 2:00 AM

The Tussian military command was always busy. It was a large campus with housing for the generals and their bodyguards.

Multiple trucks pulled in. Supply trucks. The guards at the gate went to check the back but were knocked out by four soldiers, paratroopers, who came out of the back. They hid the bodies and manned the checkpoint, closing it down and using the barriers to ensure no one could get in or out after the trucks went through. Inside the building, the cameras were deactivated. Suddenly, soldiers came pouring out of the trucks and into the building. Gunfire was heard as the guards resisted but were ultimately overpowered. Everyone in the base, mostly generals, was arrested for "Treason against Tussia and the state."

This was not a state mandated arrest, nor mandated by the church.
It was a coup.

The Ruby Ranch Republic, The order of the holy inquisitors, New Imperial Britannia, Droiden, and 3 othersBest rwanda, Rusliv, and Almadaria

Breathing.

It was an activity many people were able to do automatically thanks to their autonomous nervous system.

It was not an activity Twilight XXXIII could do.

She didn’t need to in reality. But she did it anyway to calm the… lesser beings.

The mare stepped out of the elevator, adjusting her tie on her suit.

The lobby was spacious as it was modern. Smooth lines and polished floors. The Palace’s convention hall was designed to awe people, but she did not awe at the sight.

The Second Session should be in full swing now. She thought, walking towards a door at the far end of the hall. Her clops were accompanied by the muffled sound of discussion from within Hall 4.

The suitcase that was tied to her saddlebag harness swayed with each step she walked. None of the wandering bureaucrats around paid her much mind.

Thirty-Three walked over to the doors to Hall 6. A sign had been taped on the door, boldly proclaiming “Authorized Personnel Only!”.

Thirty-Three adjusted her tie again before entering the room.

...

Forty-Two looked up from the deck of cards laid before her to see Thirty-Three walking in. The big convention hall was empty, she made sure it was for them.

“Thirty Three, so nice to see you again!” Forty-Two said in her typical cheerful voice. Standing up from her posistion she rushed over to give her sister a hug.

Thirty-Three just stood there in silence as she waited for Forty-Two to finish hugging her, before speaking, “It’s… nice to see you… again, Forty… Two,”

The voice Thirty-Three spoke with was raspy, and syllabically wrong, often placing emphasis on the wrong letters. But it was what made her special as a sister to Forty-Two.

“I presume you’ve arrived here after you’ve heard the news?” Forty-Two asked, walking over to her game of what Thirty-Tree deduced was solitaire. Weird, in a world where videogames were in abundance she didn’t play them.

“Indeed, Ms Emin… falling for Duke… Cooper is a… serious matter, we… cannot have such… a thing thre...athening the status quo,” Thirty-Three took a seat opposite to Forty-Two on the round table she was using for her solitaire game. “Any… suggestions?”

“Straight out assassination can and will go wrong, separation doesn’t work these days… we have to manufacture them falling out,” Forty-Two suggested, “Three said their love was intoxicating, pure, but there still lingers some doubt. If we were to expand such doubt, we need to do it now,”

“Mhm, has… Three taken initiative?”

“She has, as always,”

Lina washed her face in the sink, it had been a tiring session. Her efforts to rebuild Calavaria came under scrutiny from the Conservative Coalition. Imperial MPs and their ideals, almost effortlessly tearing her arguments apart like wolves.

Thankfully, of course, Cooper managed to convince the Snowlandians to help defend her arguments. Which helped her in securing several dozen trillion bits to rebuild Calavaria.

She would really thank him, most of her previous advisors and emissaries were all either dead or missing. She should really get some replacements.

The toilet stall behind her suddenly had the noise of a flush. And a equine figure standing higher than most with black chitin and holes stepped out.

“Ah, good day Ro-Gov Lina,” said Twilight III, Oberkaiserin of the Changelings,”Nice to see you today,”

“Nice to see you too Queenie,” Queenie was a nickname most used to call the Oberkaiserin, since the original title was Queen, and the nickname stuck ever since the Kaisar began using it on her. And Twilight couldn’t really complain about it.

“Heated debate back there wasn’t it?” The older mare asked as she walked over to the mirrors. More to check her image then to wash hooves. Unlike Lina, who was an earth pony and thus needed to.

“Yeah, thanks to the Snowlandians I still managed to weasel out some funds out of the treasury,” Lina said. Twilight nodded.

“Impressive work back there, I’m still surprised the Snowlandians jumped in to help you,” Twilight said. “What did you do to get them to help you, Ms Emin?”

“Oh… you know, I just got the help of… one of their emissaries of course,” Lina said flusteredly. “That’s all,”

“Duke Cooper, am I right?” Twilight asked, in contrast to Lina’s surprised look. She noticed this. “Oh? You’re surprised, Lina? It’s easy to see a person falling in love when you’re a changeling,”

“Is it really that obvious?” Lina asked. The face she had was just adorable for the Oberkaiserin, and the taste of flusterness in the air accompanied it well.

“Yes, even if I wasn’t a Changeling, I could easily see you in love, Ms Emin. Seriously, it’s easy, you were more cheerful than usual, a bit more flustered, and much more,” Stated Twilight, “I swear, it’s easier to spot someone in love then to spot someone pulling out a rifle in the middle of a concert, and people always say ‘HoW dO yOu KnOw?’”

“I… see,” Lina said, rubbing the back of her head. “But Patrick is a great guy,”

“How can you be sure?” Inquired Twilight, “How can you be sure this isn’t a trick?”

“Wha-, how can it be a trick?”

“It’s easy to mimic love, Ms Emin, how can you be sure he truly holds love for you? I usually don’t reveal much about people’s personal emotions, but I can detect some… snobbery off him, are you sure he loves you?”

“I’-I’m sure, Queenie!” Lina exclaimed, “How can you say that about Patrick?”

“We are in the Empire, Ms Emin, and yourself should know how dangerous Imperial politics are,” Twilight said as she messed with her mane. “Many lie, many dance like wolves disguised as sheep. I only wish to take care of you, Lina. Be careful,”

“I… but I believe Patrick isn’t lying, Queenie,”

“You are young, and I thought you had a lick of common sense within you Mare with an Iron Heart,” Twilight said, adjusting her dress. “Don’t be a naive little child Ms Emin, this is life, and everyone has a dagger behind their back,”

“Duke Cooper?” Snowflake said, pulling Patrick over as the dinner unfolded, “Can I speak with you?”

Patrick had a plate full of food on his right hand when he turned to Princess-Governor Snowflake. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you about your relationship with Ms Emin,” Snowflake said. “Why did you exactly want us to back the Calavarians? I’m pretty sure your relationship with her is affecting how you work,”

“What? I don’t think it is?” Patrick tried to defend. “She’s just a friend, I swear,”

“Bullcrap, Cooper, I’ve seen the way you look at her,” She said. “You’re in bloody love, It’s so f*cking easy to see,”

“Wha-, Is it that easy to see?”

“Bloody easy, and I cannot let your relationships be endangering the snowland’s interests within the Empire,” Snowflake said, taking a sip from her cup which was being levitated by her magic. “You’re either gonna abdicate from your position, or you need to break up with Lina,”

“Wha-I can’t, for both of them!” Patrick exclaimed, “My Family held this position for centuries, I cannot let that go, and I also cannot just break up with Lina like that,”

“I’m giving you 48 hours, I’m not having your personal life threaten the Snowland’s interests,” Snowflake said, the ultimatum hung in the air as she turned to go back and mingle among the crowds, Patrick just stood there, the ultimatum waiting for him to consider.

Cadence looked in shock at the situation that just unfolded before her. She needed to do something. Quickly, she navigated over to Patrick, who seemed to be considering something.

“Are you okay Duke Cooper?” She asked.

“No, I just got an ultimatum from Snowflake, it’s either my position or my relationship with Lina,” Patrick said, dejectedly.

“Lina Emin?” Patrick nodded. “That seems bad,”

“No surprise, what do I do, Cadence?” Patrick and Cadance had a friendship stretching back a couple decades, every now and then they just had tea when each other went to visit one another.

“You do what your heart says, go with Lina,” Cadence suggested.

“Are you sure? My family’s position in danger,”

“What is more important? The love of your life? Or your position?” Cadence said, “Go with Lina,”

“I… I need to think about this, Cadence,”

“Don’t make the wrong decision, Patrick,”

“I’ll try, I’ll try,”

The Ruby Ranch Republic, New Tussia, Vlamms Statt, Kafair, and 5 othersNew Imperial Britannia, Best rwanda, Rusliv, Almadaria, and Seattle autonomous zone

2nd imperial german reich

2nd Imperial German Reich
French Province
Landes Forest
19:54

“Caesar’s Empire has long been known as the greatest empire in European History, broad across the Mediterranean and to the home of the Anglo’s. Third came the 2nd Imperial German Reich, surpassing the old British Empire.

Whilst the growth of the Reich was certainly impressive, it brought upon many issues and conflict. The African people’s came into conflict with the European nationals migrating from the mainland. While the government’s reform into a unitary system, the issues appeared to have been resolved.

However, at a closer look, one can spot provincial Gestapo units commissioned by the regional governors hired to ensure their re election. And as these units suppress dissent and outcry from the public, the citizens and peoples residing within the Reich grow ever more furious.”

Cain closed his manifesto. The Landes Forest enveloping his armored cavalry battalion grew dim as the sun dipped below the tree line. He raised his hand to his helmet, flicking on a helmet light, and settled further into his foxhole. The moisture of the dirt that had slipped in over his tarp began to amass in a dark puddle under his back. He pulled his plate carrier to the side, jabbing his elbow into the wall. His body ached and shivered as dusk continued to come, his thin clothing giving him little warmth. Cain pulled his arms around him, shriveling in the foxhole. The puddle had begun to deep into his vest, and onto his combat shirt.

Cain closed his eyes and held his sides. Through his attempted slumber he heard the low sound of mud being squished. Cain grabbed his rifle and flicked off his helmet light. As the muzzle cleared the top of the foxhole, Cain dug his rifle into his shoulder, scanning the perimeter while attempting to keep his torso in the foxhole. As he surveyed the area, his mind began to become fuzzy. Shades of colors out of place began to phase into his vision. Cain began to panic. He looked to his left and saw another mess of shades. He swept his rifle to the right and stared into the hollow forest. As he stared, the shape of a man began to take form. A rifle was silhouetted in the figures hands.

Not wanting to risk a second gunman, Cain fired his rifle. The rifle punched into his shoulder, as Cain’s left hand flew to his ear. As he fumbled around waiting for the ringing to stop, he felt the smooth surface of his ear pros.

As his squad mates scrambled to their posts, Cain, held his hands over his ears. He squatted on his toes, leaning against the wall of his dank foxhole. As the gunners in the IFV’s swept the area with lights, the tension in the men began to ease.

As Cain’s squad fell back to their foxholes for the night, Cain’s fireteam leader and squad leader came over and looked down at Cain. They shared a glance at each other, before parting ways without a word.

The night grew quite as Cain covered his foxhole with a spare piece of wood.
————————————————————
2nd Imperial German Reich
French Province
Pyrenees mountain Range
09:00

As the Armored Cavalry battalion moved along the base of the mountain range, Cain stared at the casings from the .25 the gunner had fired several days prior. He glanced at the French patches on the vests of those in the IFV with him. The commander stood upright, peering out of the hatch. As Cain stared at the shell casings again, an explosion rocked the convoy. Cain’s helmet shifted over his eyes as his head slammed against the seats.

“IED! IED! Vehicle 1 is down!” The commander yelled. The Bradley pulled besides the destroyed IFV with a second Bradley as the hatch was lowered. Cain’s Fireteam filed out and took up kneeling positions behind the Bradley, as the gunner traversed his turret to the left.

Several bodies and wounded were extracted from the Bradley and placed into another Bradley. A CH-47 Chinook dispatched from a nearby French AFB arrived as air assault troops rappelled from it, who began attaching the IFV to the Chinook. As the air assault troops did their work, the Armored cavalry Battalion remained halted, staring into nearby hills.

As the Chinook departed, Cain’s squad returned to their Bradley. Cain slumped forwards in his seat, resting his head on his arms and rifle.

Post by Kyavan suppressed by a moderator.

Imperial Chambers, Imperian Palatse

Miska is hiding from the Summer's heat in the Imperial Chambers with a fan, scripting something on his papers. The heat was not the biggest of Karelignia's things in mind, it was but a yearly occurance. More on their mind was the conflict that seemed to be facing the World... Suddenly his phone rings, it is General Ismo Alarik auf Ulea.

Ismo asks in a questioning voice. "Mij Majesti, we have come upon to ask… Whenever shall we be preparing our plans for the war?"

Miska sighs in middle of his scriptures. "Yes, Ismo, glad you brought it up now. I believe I will be… busy, this weekend. With the war in seeming phony phase, we have time on Monday, alraten?"

Ismo sounds joyful, yet keeps his voice as neutral as possible. "Excellent suggestion mij Majesti. Very well, we shall meet in the War room next Monday, at the usual time. Hail Uniti!"

The General closes the connections, both participants are left with content feeling in their mind.

"Hail Uniti…"

Soon after, a new phone call comes by, from the Lead Scientists on the Project of Vihriholma-Lastation teleportal.

Clinging of glasses and happy voices can be heard in the distance, as the Scientist on other side speaks. "Mij Majesti, the project is..."

"...finished"

To Be Continued!

The Ruby Ranch Republic, Russia major, Kyavan, Best rwanda, and 1 otherAlmadaria

Hola, y bienvenidos to the Almadarian Weather Service: reliable weather forecasts and personable people. It is seven in the evening and we’re here to bring you an important weather announcement. As of thirteen minutes ago, Tropical Storm Rafael has seen an increase in wind speed and is now classified as Hurricane Rafael. As a category one hurricane, we recommend that you cancel any outdoor events and stay in your homes or the nearest safe building.

Hurricane Rafael set itself into the mindset of Almadaria in several stages; first, it was just a tropical storm that would bounce off their roofing; then, it became classified as a category one hurricane, and the panic began. Rice and nonperishables were stocked up on by rather paranoid individuals, and survival equipment and canoes were bought in large quantities. Then, during the days of high wind and pressure changes, the panic subsided and business continued as usual. It seemed almost as if everyone had forgotten or suppressed the memory of the coming storm.

Then, the sun’s light was muffled by the dark clouds approaching and the drizzle started.

Winds approaching 140 kilometers an hour are coming off of Rafael, so trees may come down if they are only shallowly rooted: stay inside an interior room or a cellar to minimize chances of harm. There is a high chance of flash flooding, so motorists and pedestrians alike should be aware of the dangers--

The driver, in a soaked uniform of the National Police, switched the police van’s radio off. Inside the van were five other equally drenched passengers, the front passenger’s seat being occupied by another PNA officer in a raincoat, two in the back of the van in similar attire, while another sitting in the back was in Almadarian Army uniform with Captain’s shoulder marks. Up against the division of the driver’s compartment and the rear of the vehicle was a stretcher holding one restrained and recently dishonorably discharged Señor Basilio Cavillo.

This van, which struggled to both observe and maneuver its way through the waterlogged roads at night, was accompanied by two police cars in front and one military truck bringing in the rear. The surrounding jungle seemed to tremble with rage as the wind and rain tore through the canopies and lightning harshly illuminated their leaves.

¡Conductor! ¿Cuánto tiempo hasta que estemos allí?” Asked the captain. The driver, squinting through the saturated windshield, shrugged.
Estamos a pocos minutos del puente. No sé.” The captain sighed and leaned back in his seat.

They were en route to the Barracón, a prison complex that stretches over the rocky but flat wastes of the San Peralez islet mere hundreds of meters off the shore of Almadaria. Over 200 prisoners were incarcerated at the facility, living out the rest of their lives under the cruel supervision of the guards, breathing stale air, and sleeping on lumpy mattresses.

Knowing this, the captain didn’t see why he couldn’t have some fun with the condemned prisoner.
“So, Señor, you like food? They’ve got plenty of food for rebels like you-- goop with only the finest seasonings, prepared by your fellow inmate. If you’re lucky, you could get dessert: mierda de vaca!” The captain jostled the stretcher. Cavillo only gazed unceasingly at the ceiling of the car, his jaw locked in hatred.

Capitán, we’re there. The bridge is up.” Said the driver, who could use the van’s high vantage to see over the preceding two cars. The bridge was indeed up, although the guardhouse where the bridge operator should have been was empty, its light turned off.

The motorcade waited for minutes in the rain.

“What the hell’s this all about? Why are we being kept waiting?” The captain complained.
No sé, capitán. Voy a investigar.” The driver’s partner said from the front, stepping out of the car. Almost immediately his foot fell into a pothole filled with water. “¡Maldición!” He spat, shutting the door. The PNA officer struggled to move through the cutting wind to the guard post but managed to pull himself inside the door frame to relative safety. There, within the small concrete structure, he found the bridge controls rather lousily operated by a relatively fresh corpse.
¡Dios mío!” He muttered. “Something’s wrong!” The officer yelled to the motorcade, his voice muffled by the roar of the wind.

The wind served not only to muffle his alert but disguise the shots that struck the officer to the ground. In just an instant, the natural cries of the storm were supplemented by the sharp and projecting sounds of gunfire. From inside the van, one could barely make out what was happening except that an explosion ten meters behind the vehicle caused the troop truck to turn into a bonfire of muted flame, quickly receding; and that gunfire raked the front of the van, shattering the glass, spraying blood, and puncturing the hull with 12.7mm rounds.

“¡Bajar!” Shouted the captain, rolling from his seat to the floorboards. As shouting from the convoy grew quieter and the machine gun fire slowed, the captain unholstered his pistol and sat up on the floor. The last police officer in the car did the same, glancing over at his compatriot, doubled over while clutching their bloodied chest where a stray bullet must have hit its unfortunate mark.

Esta justo aqui, came a barely discernable phrase from out in the storm. The captain gestured to the remaining officer to face towards the door. The captain waited several moments, squinting through the darkness and listening closely.

The crash of thunder seemed to coincide with the opening of the van’s rear doors, which was subsequently followed by gunshots. Three dark figures with rifles appeared at the end of the vehicle, spraying the two men with lead with single bursts. The captain barely managed to squeeze out a shot, aimed too high to be of any harm. He was hit once off his shoulder and another through his throat.

The firefight ended and one of the trio turned on a flashlight and examined the vehicle.

“Well, if it isn’t another ejemplo of me saving tu culo.” Laughed one of the figures. “Señor Cavillo, I sincerely hope you weren’t actually planning on staying inside during this beautiful weather?” The flashlight wielder stepped onto the van, the light bouncing and illuminating his face.

“Marcio Gallego, as I live and breathe. Where’d you go after the embassy?” Cavillo said loudly to his comrade as Marcio undid his restraints on the stretcher.

“Oh, they were to take me to some two-bit prison facility before the boys helped me out like what we’re doing now. Damn Kynorans.”

“Damn Kynorans,” Cavillo agreed as he pulled himself off the stretcher.

The wind and rain ripped across Cavillo’s face as the insurgent team evacuated the devastated convoy and into the surrounding jungle while Hurricane Rafael powered on.

Hurricane Rafael brought Almadaria to a standstill. Trees bent to the wind and the weakly rooted ones snapped, power and phone lines were flung to the ground, roofing tiles were flung from their positions and littered streets, parks, and the front-country of the jungle. Floodwaters overwhelmed the countryside, forming pools of water that drowned crops and blocked the roads.

“What’s the situation?”

“Revolutionary Almadaria fighters have mostly given up after the police raids, the cobardes. But we still have three lodges of fighters. They’re ready.”

“And what of the storm, Marcio?”

“Weather Service says it’ll be here for a few hours more. Getting quite nasty-- we’re looking at a considerable amount of snapped trees and downed power lines over the streets.”

“The storm’ll keep away the reinforcements, as well as drones, aircraft, all manner of things that go bump in the night.”

, but it’ll also affect our movement as well, jefe.”

“Portana is allí, and we will move out with the Valverdian Lodge there. We will meet at the rendezvous point in Northwestern Africa without worry. Now, can the Valverdians move on in their day or shall we continue to set aside your worries?”

“No, jefe. Shall I give the order?”

, give the signal. Let’s get on the road.” Cavillo said.

The radio transmission was sent. Three militant lodges of the Valverdian party received it, a total force of 436 guerillas.

In Grandas, turncoat members of the Paramilitary and Civil Defense went out into the howling wind and soaking darkness and began planting explosives on any police or military vehicle they could find-- hand grenades rigged to detonate once the car door opened, motion-sensitive plastique on the undercarriage of trucks and armored cars, and tripwired explosives to garages and airport hangars. Early on, not much alarm was raised when an unfortunate officer soiled what was left of himself and his car in the storm, but eventually the bombings became too frequent and too large to avoid the attention of the Civil Defense. The alarms raised only prompted more frequent bombings in the hours to come.

In La Esmeralda, the Valverdians took a more confrontational route, taking to arms and storming the police garrison. During the hurricane, it was nigh impossible to identify enemy targets, so the garrison fell quickly. The guerillas stepped over the bodies of the National Police and accompanying Paramilitary to destroy all police records, particularly those covering the insurgency. Then, the guerillas broke into cells and relocated to the rural areas surrounding the city.

In Macotera, under the supervision of Mayor Basilio Cavillo, a seemingly unusual amount of pedestrians rushed to the docks. The concrete berths were covered with a thin layer of water, which threatened to slip any who were not careful enough about their footing.

“Go on! The Martí! That’s our ship!” Cavillo shouted as the hundred-man strong crowd of guerillas rushed to the ship. The Martí was a shabbily-maintained cargo ship some 130 meters in length. Its colors were dull and the cargo space not nearly at full capacity to indicate prosperity.

Within an hour, the crew was settled in the ship and relatively dry from the storm. And while bombs ravaged Grandas and guerillas clashed with police in La Esmeralda, the Martí crashed against the waves, heading east through the storm.

No ser una carga, but can anyone here tell me qué carajo is going on?” Screamed Arbelaez.

The room came to a standstill. The concrete and steel operational bunker nearly nine-hundred meters under the National Capitol Building was a cramped structure, equipped with a supply room, extensive planning and operations room, and a small living room. Inside it, while a hurricane ravaged infrastructure and insurrection threatened the stability of the country, generals, admirals, administrators, and the President clamored in the planning room.

Jefe-- we’re receiving reports of insurgent activities all over the country. There are bombs in Grandas and full-scale shootouts in La Esmeralda. We need to send in the military, establish martial law while we still can.” A general started. The nametape on his uniform read “Andujar”.

“Yes, but if we cause much collateral damage, the insurgents will only gain more sympathy for their cause, especially after the intrusive raids!” Cried an admiral from the opposite side of the room.

Arbelaez motioned for them to stop. “This is no time to fret about that. We have armed insurrectionists in Almadarian towns and cities-- we need to quickly and decisively destroy them. I want every division mobilized to secure the country. National Police should be allowed to make arrests as they see fit.”

The room murmured in agreement.

“Well? What are we sitting around here for? Tell me, when’s the storm going to pass?”

“We’ve got at least seven more hours of high wind, then the worst of Rafael will be over with.” An advisor from the Almadarian Weather Service piped up.

“They’ll probably try to disappear before then. Mobilize the Republican Guard. If the roads are too bad, then have them go on foot! It is essential that we string these rebels up before they hide again!” Arbelaez declared. “Go!”

The Ruby Ranch Republic, The order of the holy inquisitors, Kafair, New Imperial Britannia, and 3 othersBest rwanda, Rusliv, and The hawthorne islands

As the Premier-Ceo-King-President of Neu Chile, I officially declare war on The Ruby Ranch Republic and the weather system of Rain. Ruby Ranch Republic is an abomination of zen and Rain is just annoying to walk through. Glory to our Corporate-Feudal-Democratic-Commune of Neu Chile!

- Premier-Ceo-King-President Wilhelm Ori Nathaniel Steinhabssonburg

Vlamms Statt, Kyavan, Kafair, Kynor, and 5 othersNew Imperial Britannia, Best rwanda, Rusliv, Almadaria, and The hawthorne islands

Karelignia

???, Vihriholma

It is the next day, Miska has arrived to the Teleportal's construction site, a hidden and highly-guarded area only for those with permission, even now after its completion.

Miska steps down from his transport, where on the site waits Doctor Ruijala, Miska's guide on the use of Teleportal.

Doctor Ruijala smiles kindly to Miska and greets him in a nod. "Mij Majesti, welcome. I trust your travel here was safe?"

Miska smiles back, excitement clearly on his face. "Herr Ruijala! The travel was most pleasant one, thank you. And you shall be my guide today, jes?"

Doctor shows thumbs up. "Indeed. With that clear, please, this way. I will have the honor to show you the greatest scientific achievement of the Imperia right after our Outerworldly colonies!"

As Miska is escorted by the Doctor to the Teleportal, he shows around them the station.

"During the last months, our diligent workers have constructed this station for the Teleportal, guarded by these guards, the fence, the inspections booth and..."

He stops for a little while until representing the Great Gates before them.

"...and the Great Gates, the actual, true guard between the Realms. Now, I trust you would like to see the Gates opened, see Lastation?"

Miska grins. "You read me like an open book, Doctor. Please, if you may."

Doctor chuckles at Miska's words. "Very well, I shall call the gate opener, who is in his office."

Doctor takes a radio telephone from his belt. "Start. Hans, code spring. End."

"Start. Herr Ruijala, Alraten. End."

A click sound comes as the connection is cut and the mechanics in the Great Gates start working soon after, as they start moving to the Teleportal's left and right sides.

It takes a good minute until the gates have set on their positions, and the whole sight of the Other Side, Lastation, the Divine Realm, is seen. It has a similar set of Gates, fences and what not, just perhaps a bit more in Lastationese style. A bit more… advanced, just perhaps.

On the other side stands presumably another Doctor, of Lastation, and a more familiar face.

"Noire."

"Miska."

Miska walks towards Noire, as she does same. The two share a loving hug,

"It's been a while, hm. How's my lovely Jumalix doing?"

"As good as I trust you have been."

Doctors Ruijala and Aki look at the couple with accomplishment in their smiles, as they slap hands together. "For the Union."

After a little chatting and laughing, Miska and Noire come to an agreement on the opening of the Teleportal being next week. Meanwhile, a question on currency has aswell come, which is also getting the most reasonable and practical solution soon…

The Union is drifting closer and closer together, literally and not. Only prosperity can be outcome of this!

Alla hail Uniti!

By Any Means Necessary - Prologue
Thakia, Gynda, Novgyrod, Kerath Palace

>Network integrity: Insured

>Encryption systems: Enabled

>Frequency alternator: On

>Initiating contact...

A - Director, I think from the reports I've had access to, this is a very delicated issue

N - In fact, as you may know, our operatives at Opturn were compromised

N - However, their latest report revealed a disturbing intelligence about the U.C.R.J.'s plans.

N - We must assume that Jiarbin is in possession of a sample of the chemical agent LRS-23

A - Impossible, we destroyed the last samples in 97, any effort by the Caprian government to develop chemical weapons ended with operation SAVIOUR

N - That's what we thought before the LRS-23 reports started appearing in early November

N - The D.I.T. deployed two agents to Opturn to attempt to investigate the scientific divisions of the U.C.R.J.

N - They were to meet with a contact who supposedly had vital information on the subject

N - What they reported confirmed our fears, the U.C.R.J. managed to get their hands on the chief scientist behind the LRS-23, the previous report had stated that the man was killed during the coup of 97

N - They have already developed a working prototype and have started testing in the Brevstia work camps

N - Your Majesty, I request authorization for a new operation to eliminate any remnants of the LRS project that may now be in the passion of the U.C.R.J., Failure to act now could result in thousands and thousands of deaths in the future

A - I see, the situation is clearly worrying, if the U.C.R.J. is allowed to completely recreate the LRS-23, it could threaten our position in the center and south of the continent.

A - Under no circumstances will this weapon be allowed to fall into their hands

A - Director, by the power vested in me, I grant full authorisation for this operation, however, due to the sensitive nature of the subject, the Thakian government is not and never was officially involved in any of this

A - Eliminate the scientist, destroy the research and the prototype

A - By any means necessary

N - I'll begin deployment as soon as possible, sir.

The Ruby Ranch Republic, The order of the holy inquisitors, Vlamms Statt, New Imperial Britannia, and 4 othersDroiden, Best rwanda, Rusliv, and Almadaria

Karelignia

???, ???

It is midnight, taken from the crescent on the dark blue sky, shining in Glory of Kuu. Miska stands, a bit tired but still in his senses, before a map table and with papers in his left hand, map pointer in right hand.

On the other sides of the table stand the KIA's high command, including Väinö auf Tavastia, Ismo auf Ulea and Aleksei Vienala.

Miska coughs up and taps over Karelignia on the map. "Mij Herrie, a conflict is approaching our Universalia. It is going to be a hard one, like always they have been. And for that, I ask for your advice in how we shall emerge into Viktoria through it. So, starten?" He looks waitingly at his generals.

Ismo salutes in sign of his turn, and speaks. "Mij Majesti, as a strong conservative mind that I am, I advice that we are to start a defensive warfare, protecting ourselves rather than making the enemy protect themselves. This has been our way through space and time, and has worked well in our benefit through space and time, why should it be any different now?"

Miska nods. "Thank you, General auf Ulea. Anyone else?"

Then, soon Vienala comes up and questions the idea. "Mij Majesti, Mij General, with due all respect, I have to disagree with your stragedy. As good as they have worked in our favor in the past, is it not the very policy of our Nation and State to defend all the Uralic nations, and take them into our protection? Thus, if we are to march East with our allies, we would not only be fighting aside with them, but making the very offensive, defensive. Now, I am not entirely against defensive stragedy, but we have to think about our title, and if we are going to be truly seen as able to uphold it in our names."

Aleksei's words get a couple nods and a feeling of understanding.

Miska nods and looks at the map. "Thank you, General Major Vienala. Then Anyone? No? Very well then, with these two stragedies in mind, I have decided on a compromise, see…"

Miska takes his map pointer and shows it on the borders. "Here we shall stay in defense for the time being, make advance in the line only if it is completely secured, no hasty moves, alraten?"

He takes his pointer and moves it around the areas, explaining the stragedy "When it is made sure that our allies have started an offensive, we will be there to make the push a true crush, and make the enemy retreat. But do not overextend your lines, remember that. Now, any questions, or will I let you prepare the armies?"

Shakings of heads suggest latter option. Aleksei and Ismo seem to satisfied with the plans.

"Very well then, let us strike." He then salutes his high command "To Viktoria!"

"To Viktoria!" The high staff walk out of the room.

After the leave of the high staff, Miska starts to draw something on his papers with different things.

To be continued

The Ruby Ranch Republic, Droiden, and Best rwanda

“...I presume that you do not wish for the continued intervention of the government within the Snowlandian Economy?” Patrick took a sip of his drink as the Imperial Minister responded.

“Yes, the continued interventionism, in it’s current form, is detrimental to the long term health of the Snowlandian Economy,” Replied Minister Jacob Assets, the middle aged earth pony looked at Patrick through his tinted glasses. It was the same old argument the two would butt heads over.

He was an expert of economics, but so was Patrick. But admittedly to the Kaisar’s biased opinions, Jacob would win in the end. Because he had to move Jacob’s office from Manehatten to MineLegotian Canterlot, if not whenever he passed the Manehatten Stock Exchange, it would drop by fifteen points.

“I mean, government bailouts? Such a preposterous idea will only result in solidifying existing corporations and preventing the creation for alternatives,”

“But is it not the prerogative of the government to maintain the prosperity of the nation, no?”

The two continuously batted back and forth, as the rest of the session watched in silence. It was entertaining to say the least.

Kaisar Jason I watched the entire thing with growing disinterest. The quiet game of verbal tennis was very much an opportunity for him to lay back and just not think for several minutes.

He could see some movement here and there, apart from the two belligerents engaging in verbal tennis. He noticed that the Cadance and Raven were whispering things to one another.

Just what were the two up to?

The Kaisar made a mental note to investigate this.

The Argumentum, is no stranger to powerful people meeting one another for various things. Whether it was for quiet backdoor deals, or just meeting, it had the facilities needed for it.

Lina looked down in despair at the delightfully appetizing Mac n’ Cheese, playing with her fork. Raven Inkwell, Imperial Aide to the Kaisar and Minister of Foreign Affairs, raised an eyebrow as she finished her share of fried rice with a sprinkle of papayas.

“You haven’t touched your Macaroni… Lina, what’s wrong?” She asked. A hint of actual worry in it. It wasn’t often the white mare expressed worry for something. Often she was just an ass who didn’t care much for personal feelings outside her small group of friends.

“It’s just… Can I speak to you, mare to mare?” Lina said, looking up from her still warm plate of food.

“You can, Lina, you can,”

“It’s just… I’m having doubts of Patrick, Duke Patrick Cooper of the-“

“Snowlands, Frostgard more specifically, 35 years old and will turn 36 next month on the fifteenth. Parents both died after a terrible car accident, 170 centimetres tall, about 65 kilograms heavy in my opinion, and probably plays the violin,” Raven said nonchalantly, much to Lina’s surprised face.

“H-how?”

“I didn’t become Imperial Aide, or Minister just by my good looks alone, Ms Emin, do continue,”

“I see… it’s just I have doubts whether or not he truly loves me,” Lina confessed. “Twilight said it is possible he is merely playing me for a fool for the interests of the Snowlands,”

“And you are a fool for believing a Twilight at face value,” Raven said, sipping from her cup of hot tea. “The Twilights’ may be well intentioned, but any unexpected variable which endangers the status-quo they built will be met by underhoofed tactics by them swiftly,”

“Wait, so Three could have been lying?” Raven could only mentally sort Lina into ‘Mildly Hopelessly naive’ in her mental directory after hearing that question. What type of fool takes the Twilights’ words at face value? She could mentally facehoof at the thought.

“Yes, now, tell me, how long have you been seeing Cooper?”

“Bout a week now since the Conference began, and well, I’ve never felt as happy as before with Patrick, other than with Phoenix,” Lina sighed, “But could it all have been a ploy?”

“No, he’s just like you,”

“Wha-how?” Raven gave the look that reminded Lina that not only was she often an open book, but also the largest print edition.

“I’ll never understand how you became Godmare for the Mafia,”

“Hey! I may be an open book, but I know many tricks!”

Raven waved a dismissive hoof at the claim, “Yes, yes, I know that too, but right now we’re talking about your relationship with Patrick, how do you want to approach it? Right now, you need to talk with him, heart to heart,”

“Are you sure about this? What if we did wanted to stay together but the law won’t allow it?! Do we need to flee to another dimension? Start a small seedy business in the middle of nowehere? Or-“

At this point, Raven Inkwell, very calmly, swung her hoof into Lina’s face, knocking her to the floor of the establishment. Thank God they were in a private room, that would have been hard to justify.

“The vastness of space... the deepest oceans... the glaring sun... many, many things... has been seen by the Empire, to expect you can hide within them... is idiotic at best... and insane at worst, Ms Emin, to expect you can simply... hide from Imperial Authorities, is a bad idea,” Raven said, pulling out her handkerchief and tapping her muzzle. “Plus, they’ll charge you with ngelectation of duties if you did that,”

Rubbing her cheek and getting back up to the table, Lina glared at Raven and said, “So, that’s all I can do? Talk to Patrick?”

“Mhm, that is all you can do for now, lest you and his blooming love is smothered by the cloth that is Politics,”

“I did not expect you to use such underhanded tactics, Snowflake,”

Jason I’s iconic cane tapped against the floor, as he and Snowflake walked around the Imperial Palace as the clock struck midnight. He spoke to her in Legotian, his accent revealing his fluency in the old language.

“It was necessary to finally get rid of the Coopers, Your Majesty,” Snowflake said, replying in her more Snowlandian-dialected Legotian, “No Duke, more chance for me to fill it with a democratic position, will probably empower the governor,”

“I see I see, but it seems quite underhanded for you to use love as ultimatum, but it is not something I can’t argue against nor have the right to protest, since a many time I have done that too,” Jason turned to face Snowflake, looming over her with the height of an extra head. “Now, I expect you to salvage such relationship,”

“How? I’m not exactly the Director of MRIS,” Snowflake said, “You want me to somehow pull more strings to get them back together?”

“Yes,” Jason adjusted his tie a bit, “I expect it to be done by the end of this Convention,”

Spear Shield was an anarchist. Not the usual type to fight all power, but the one that would argue for the liberation of everypon- everyone from the tyrannical grasp of power through diplomacy. Since warfare would subjugate everyone into a needless hierarchy for war, and hierarchies, in his fully unbiased opinion, was bad.

Thus, he felt it was a bit surreal when one of the most powerful tyrants of the Empire would be willing to back him and his comrades push for liberation against the alicorn tyranny in his universe.

So here he was, sipping wine in the middle of an Imperial Convention. Discussing the faiths of billions of citizens, with possible ramifications reaching into the decades and possibly centuries. The National Democratic Assembly of the New Communes of Equestria had said that his job here was primarily to block all attempts from the Imperials to enforce any sort of “tyrannical deal upon the Communes,”.

It was truly evil.

But now, in the small diner a couple blocks outside from the Convention Hall, and with a bottle of Crystal De Love in his right hoof, and a depressed emissary in front of him, he was wondering if the image that all those who wield power were evil was a misguided image.

“Being in power while having too much drama seems like a bad idea, Patrick,” Spear said, swirling his drink in his hoof while watching the Duke to look up from the hard wood that was the table.

“Why is ruling and trying to be happy so hard?” The Duke moaned while taking a sip from his own drink with Riverlandian origins.

“Big things done by commoners are politics, little things done by the government are politics, everything done by rulers are politics,” Elaborated Spear, “If you can’t handle the heat, leave then,”

Even an anarchist like him understood politics. Without a government, politics were more partisan, and it tended to drag more anger from the commoners than it would be under a government. His mien tended to get equivalent to divine anger whenever politics got involved in day to day life.

“But I wish to help others! Why can’t I find help for myself?”

“Tis the burden of those who rule, Patrick,” Spear said, finishing his drink. “You gonna finish your drink?”

Patrick quietly pushed his drink over to Spear who gladly finished it in one swift motion.

“What should I ever do, Spear?”

“Resign, marry the girl, and go have some children,” Hmm, Crystal de Love had a weird taste to it, he probably should bring a bottle or two back to show it to his comrades. “Politics is the land of the useless who pretend to be useful, thus the saying, ‘One Useless Pony is a Disgrace, Two a Law Firm, Three or More a Government’,”

“Goddamn do I hate politics, why can’t it be more simple? It’s driving me insane!”

“Whomever the Kaisar wishes to destroy, he first drives mad,"

The Ruby Ranch Republic, The order of the holy inquisitors, Daltonland, Droiden, and 2 othersBest rwanda, and Rusliv

Strait of Gibraltar
6/29/2020

The fleet had been here for 3 days, blocking the strait. The vast majority of ships were let through, though Kyavani vessels, what few there were, had been captured, with their crews detained. The carriers sat behind a wall of destroyers, constantly screening for enemy subs, along with cruisers and electronic warfare ships, all on guard. Aircraft patrolled regularly, AWACS aircraft sweeping the skies for the enemy in the air or at sea. They had every advantage; they would be on the defensive, with better intel, and when the enemy came into range, their missiles and aircraft would tear them apart. In the meantime, the Pillar's subs were rolling through the waters of the atlantic, hunting the enemy, and protecting the interior of the Mediterranean.

Cairo

The city was even more fortress like then during the civil war. Tanks and infantry rolled through, snipers and men armed with MANPADS sitting on roofs. Aircraft patrolled here as well, while trucks and materials raced between Cairo and the three Suez bridges. The three were each a mini fortress of their own, layers of barricades hiding rocket launchers, mines, tank barrels poking out from sandbag walls. The men holding them would not falter. Cairo would be the rebels first target. If it fell, they would need to hold.

Eastern Pillar/Kyavani Border

Infantry were mustering, many nearly invisible among the sands as they came to. Tanks rumbled forward. In the realm of cyber space, however, a message flies towards a certain general holding a line across the border. It was simple.

"Greetings General Marius.

I am General Achma, "The Eastern Falcon". I would like to inquire why your men have declared neutrality, and if you may be swayed to rejoin the empire to which you swore loyalty, and help the Core of the Golden Throne rise once more.

Good Day,
The Eastern Falcon."

Now it was simply time to await the answer.

This is mostly an example of the defensive wear my troops use. This man lays down, and he vanishes, especially at range: https://i.imgur.com/E4qZbCq.jpg, https://i.imgur.com/gzYDNZS.jpg

The Ruby Ranch Republic, The order of the holy inquisitors, Russia major, Best rwanda, and 1 otherRusliv

Rise to attack, Follow the banner, Follow the Kongur, Blood, Blast, and Fire!

Tønder, Danmark, Droiden

Lord-General Arjen åf Velthuis stands with his cousin, Lord-Marshal Tobian åf Kjærsgaard.

"What's the game plan, Tobi?" Arjen looks to his cousin inquisitively

"Easy. A push through Hamburg, aided by several bombing runs, and a siege of this so called 'Ranch', complete with more bombing runs." Tobian responded coldly, dragging on his cigarette.

"That's a good plan. I'm assuming you'll be leading this?"

"Indeed, alongside Ingwaz-34. He's a responsible mech."

"Aye, so I've heard. How many men are we bringing?"

"100 thousand, along with 20 thousand mechs."

"Lovely."

Clonakilty, Celtia, Droiden

Lord-Admiral Olfrik åf Hallas reviewed his numbers once again. His ships, despite their strength, would not be effective against the might of any nation.

"Blast. Brendan, what should we do? We're weaker than a drunken snow goose."

"Hm. Well, the Kafairi navy could use some help with the Reinkalistanis and the Order. Not that we'd do much, but we'd at least be some decent cannon fodder."

"Aye, there's that. Shall we send the word out?"

"I suppose so."

Olfrik turns on the loudspeaker

"Attention, men. We will be setting sail for the Strait of Gibraltar before the day is done. I repeat, Gibraltar before the day is done."

Olfrik sighs.

"Well, this will be great, eh?"

The order of the holy inquisitors, Russia major, Kafair, Best rwanda, and 2 othersRusliv, and Almadaria

Spanish partisans

Si Cantara el Gallo Rojo
Spain, Galicia, La Coruña

Jose de Acuña touches spanish soil for the first time in 14 years, The sound of gunfire echoes trough Galicia as the triumphant partisan forces marched in streets, the peoples revolution had finally began.

A week before, Disguised as Spanish soldiers, the exiled Spanish partisan forces infiltrated the garrisons at Northern Spain in preparation for a new insurrection. This plan yesterday when the partisan leader Jose de Acuña arrived at La Coruña, He was promptly arrested and brought before governmental jurisdiction but not before agitating the people and condemning the presence of foreign militaries in Spanish soil and the government involvement in unpopular war.

It didn’t took long for the already planted partisan soldiers to rise up across the city with an initially divided but growing popular support, De Acuña was released by the overrun local garrison, and most of the vital infrastructure of Galicia had been taken.

The same kind of insurrection was instigated across northern Iberia and some vital cities in the South, A significant part of Spain had rebelled in less than one day.
Galicia, Asturias, Leon, Cantabria and Murcia were under partisan control, The initial push for territory had stopped and the Partisans were consolidating their gains.

The Ruby Ranch Republic, Russia major, Best rwanda, Rusliv, and 1 otherAlmadaria

Post by Kyavan suppressed by a moderator.

Kyavan wrote:-Read if in WTC v. PL Smackdown-

OOC: Indeed, lemme get on that. Everyone, send me yall's Modifiers, and if you haven't already, PLEASE send me your orbats. Thanks.

The Ruby Ranch Republic and The order of the holy inquisitors

Russia major

CONFIDENTIAL | FOR THE EYES OF FIELD MARSHAL LYSANDER AND HM EVANGELINE, EMPRESS OF KYAVAN ONLY

FROM: Exterior Executive Minister Vladislav Khilkov, Grand Duke of Novgorod
TO: Field Marshal Lysander, Regent of Kyavan

DATED 29th June, in the 1stof the Reign of HIM Czar Feodor Romanova-Holstein Lansov, or 2020
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Field Marshal Lysander, His Imperial Majesty sends his Greetings,

On behalf of HIM I write to inform you and your ward Evangeline, Empress of Kyavan that on this day, in the first year of his reign, Czar Feodor signed the attached Ukazy authorising immediate Greater Russian intervention to protect Kyavani self-determination from the aggressions of the Golden Throne. I would humbly request your blessing for our intervention, that through cooperation and mutual exercise of military strength we may secure Kyavani independence, now and forevermore.


By the Grace of Rod, and in the name of the people of Rus,

Ukazy 29/6/355: On the War of Kyavani Independence
Greater Russian Government Database
.

His Imperial Majesty Czar Feodor Romanova-Holstein-Lansov,

    Aware of the sudden resurgence of Anti-Thronism (that is, opposition to membership of the Golden Throne) within Kyavan,

    Cognisant of previous enduring positive relations between the Czardom and the Empire of Kyavan,

    Believing that any actions that can be taken, must be taken to bring about the destruction of the Imperialistic Golden Throne,

    Further believing that this war presents an unprecedented opportunity to bring about the collapse of the Golden Throne,

    Informed and advised of the situation by all members of his Council of Twelve, and of the Imperial Duma

Hereby enacts the following measures,

  1. The Czardom is to consider itself to be in a state of war with the Golden Throne, and all its allies;

  2. All soldiers of the Czardom are instructed to consider all members of the Golden Throne Armed Forces, and the armed forces of their allied nations as enemy belligerents:

    1. All soldiers of the Czardom are to use such force as is necessary to subdue the aforementioned Armed Forces and by extension the governments of the Golden Throne and its allies

    2. Enemy Soldiers are denied any guarantee of surrender, Officers in the field may accept or deny surrender as the situation demands;

  3. The Combined Landguard Council, The Combined Seaguard Council, and The Combined Skyguard Council are referred to the LinkOrder of Battle prepared by the Exterior Executive Minister, His Grace Glavnyy-feldmarschal Vladislav Khikov, Grand Duke of Novgorod, regarding the mobilisation of forces of the Czardom.

Read dispatch

Admiration for the Kyavani people runs deep in Russia Major, and I personally believe that as many Russians are willing to lay down their lives for their Kyavani brothers and sisters as are necessary to restore to them their independence and self-determination.

I look forward to fighting on the frontlines for Kyavani freedom. May the Golden Throne come to rule an Empire of Ash.

Regards,

Exterior Executive Minister, His Grace, Vladislav Khilkov, Grand Duke of Novgorod.

The order of the holy inquisitors, Best rwanda, Rusliv, Almadaria, and 1 otherSeattle autonomous zone

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