08-04-2025, 10:31 PM
Undisclosed location in the city of Eliseborg, in the province of Bindeborg, Davostag – January 5633
The office, an inconspicuous and very unremarkable 15 story office building with a poor architecture, brought up for convenience and function, long abandoned and acquired by a small local company dealing with so-called fiskinvesteringar ("fish investments"). In truth, the State Security Bureau's main headquarters in the Bindeborg province and their vanguard office for foreign and regional affairs.
"Please sit, fru Ikander", says a man, probably in his late forties, dark grey intelligence uniform, white shirt, dark tie. He has well kept, brown-blondish hair, discreetly combed back. The room is a grey color, brutalistic in a way, while elegant in its minor details, as long as you can find them. His desk, a very very dark brown color, stylish wood. On either side of him, lit up with floor lights, are two flags made in luxurious material; on the left side the national banner in a pure white field dominated by a black double-headed eagle, while on his right the standard of the Bureau, a dark colored flag crowned by the seal of the SSB. Behind him, slight above, is a portrait of the rikspresident, Gustav Dahler. "You can begin, give me an update."
"Yes Herr Överstelöjtnant, as directed here is the report I've compiled." A woman, physically between 30 and 35, blonde hair, cut short above the shoulders, with grey-blue eyes. Dressed in a black suit jacket and black trousers, a dark grey shirt with a small black pussybow. "Through the trade routes with Kundrati, we have in the past year been able to provide safety for about 35,000 Davostagers. Of course, as you know, our contact with the Kundrati Davostagers has also allowed us to obtain countless informants and type-3 operatives, while our own agents have been able to use the information gained by said operatives to monitor things more closely internally."
"And any news from signals (colloquial for "Signals Intelligence Service")", the man asks.
"I talked with a lieutenant there who only confirmed what we already know, that the task of monitoring the legionaries in the way we want them to is not as easy as it sounds", she paused, noticing the gaze of her superior harden. "Of course, I'll pressure them some more."
"No you won't", he abruptly said. She looked at him confused. "I'll arrange for it myself. It's about time they were brought back in line." He stopped. Circled with his chair so he could look up at the portrait of the rikspresident. "As you know, the great game has just recently begun, and my superiors are pushing men like me to intervene and protect the nation's interests", he turned around to face her. She remained silent, carefully observing him. "You have done good work the five years you've been here at my department."
Still careful, she wasn't sure what to say really. The överstelöjtnant was not known for randomly complimenting his subordinates. "Thank you... Sir".
He began again, "I have been authorized to promote you to captain".
She lit up, or her face tried to light up, her training had made sure she could control her emotions, but she couldn't help herself. "Thank you Sir! I intend to prove the rank's worth"
"Good, because I have a new mission for you", he said. Now filled with pride and determination, she eagerly awaited him to continue. "I want you to gather a new team, pick out whoever you want from any department, not too many of course, only those who you consider will be valuable for your upcoming operations. With that you will be reporting directly to me and only me."
She frowned, thought for a second on what was said, and responded, "I understand Sir, and if I am stopped by the department chiefs?"
"Then you will refer them to brigadgeneral Töller", he said with an authoritative tone.
Now she really frowned, internally of course. Töller? she thought to herself I'm sure I'll be able to get the chiefs to give up their mothers addresses without a moment's hesitation if I simply mentioned Töller. She looked at him, "And what exactly do you want us to do?"
He did not respond, he only observed her, gazed into her grey-blue eyes, allowing the seconds to feel like hours. Finally, he opened his mouth, "With your team, or your new command I should say, you will be joined by a Spezeg ("Special Units Branch") task force that the MUT (abbreviation for "Military Intelligence Service") will provide."
She did not know what to say. Nor what to think really. Töller? Spezeg? She had no clue that the överstelöjtnant trusted her that much. Of course, he was a veteran in the intelligence community, he would not have problems fooling the rest of us. Her main concern was the nature of these covert operations. Though she did not want to ask again, there was probably a reason he did not answer. Her thoughts were interrupted.
"You are dismissed. Return to your station and get to work."
Looking at him, unable to read his face, she stood up. "Yes Sir." She hesitated, "What about this report?"
Unbothered, he circled back to the painting again, "Just leave it, it's not important right now."
"Yes Sir." Leaving the report on the desk, she headed for the door. As she was about to open it he said.
"You'll handle the formation of this discreetly, as you understand. We'll be making history, Josefine."
Never had she heard him say her name, nor has she heard her own name for quite some time. She turned around, meeting his eyes. "Yes, Herr Överstelöjtnant. Hell Dovrige." (Befäska for "Hail Davostag").
The office, an inconspicuous and very unremarkable 15 story office building with a poor architecture, brought up for convenience and function, long abandoned and acquired by a small local company dealing with so-called fiskinvesteringar ("fish investments"). In truth, the State Security Bureau's main headquarters in the Bindeborg province and their vanguard office for foreign and regional affairs.
"Please sit, fru Ikander", says a man, probably in his late forties, dark grey intelligence uniform, white shirt, dark tie. He has well kept, brown-blondish hair, discreetly combed back. The room is a grey color, brutalistic in a way, while elegant in its minor details, as long as you can find them. His desk, a very very dark brown color, stylish wood. On either side of him, lit up with floor lights, are two flags made in luxurious material; on the left side the national banner in a pure white field dominated by a black double-headed eagle, while on his right the standard of the Bureau, a dark colored flag crowned by the seal of the SSB. Behind him, slight above, is a portrait of the rikspresident, Gustav Dahler. "You can begin, give me an update."
"Yes Herr Överstelöjtnant, as directed here is the report I've compiled." A woman, physically between 30 and 35, blonde hair, cut short above the shoulders, with grey-blue eyes. Dressed in a black suit jacket and black trousers, a dark grey shirt with a small black pussybow. "Through the trade routes with Kundrati, we have in the past year been able to provide safety for about 35,000 Davostagers. Of course, as you know, our contact with the Kundrati Davostagers has also allowed us to obtain countless informants and type-3 operatives, while our own agents have been able to use the information gained by said operatives to monitor things more closely internally."
"And any news from signals (colloquial for "Signals Intelligence Service")", the man asks.
"I talked with a lieutenant there who only confirmed what we already know, that the task of monitoring the legionaries in the way we want them to is not as easy as it sounds", she paused, noticing the gaze of her superior harden. "Of course, I'll pressure them some more."
"No you won't", he abruptly said. She looked at him confused. "I'll arrange for it myself. It's about time they were brought back in line." He stopped. Circled with his chair so he could look up at the portrait of the rikspresident. "As you know, the great game has just recently begun, and my superiors are pushing men like me to intervene and protect the nation's interests", he turned around to face her. She remained silent, carefully observing him. "You have done good work the five years you've been here at my department."
Still careful, she wasn't sure what to say really. The överstelöjtnant was not known for randomly complimenting his subordinates. "Thank you... Sir".
He began again, "I have been authorized to promote you to captain".
She lit up, or her face tried to light up, her training had made sure she could control her emotions, but she couldn't help herself. "Thank you Sir! I intend to prove the rank's worth"
"Good, because I have a new mission for you", he said. Now filled with pride and determination, she eagerly awaited him to continue. "I want you to gather a new team, pick out whoever you want from any department, not too many of course, only those who you consider will be valuable for your upcoming operations. With that you will be reporting directly to me and only me."
She frowned, thought for a second on what was said, and responded, "I understand Sir, and if I am stopped by the department chiefs?"
"Then you will refer them to brigadgeneral Töller", he said with an authoritative tone.
Now she really frowned, internally of course. Töller? she thought to herself I'm sure I'll be able to get the chiefs to give up their mothers addresses without a moment's hesitation if I simply mentioned Töller. She looked at him, "And what exactly do you want us to do?"
He did not respond, he only observed her, gazed into her grey-blue eyes, allowing the seconds to feel like hours. Finally, he opened his mouth, "With your team, or your new command I should say, you will be joined by a Spezeg ("Special Units Branch") task force that the MUT (abbreviation for "Military Intelligence Service") will provide."
She did not know what to say. Nor what to think really. Töller? Spezeg? She had no clue that the överstelöjtnant trusted her that much. Of course, he was a veteran in the intelligence community, he would not have problems fooling the rest of us. Her main concern was the nature of these covert operations. Though she did not want to ask again, there was probably a reason he did not answer. Her thoughts were interrupted.
"You are dismissed. Return to your station and get to work."
Looking at him, unable to read his face, she stood up. "Yes Sir." She hesitated, "What about this report?"
Unbothered, he circled back to the painting again, "Just leave it, it's not important right now."
"Yes Sir." Leaving the report on the desk, she headed for the door. As she was about to open it he said.
"You'll handle the formation of this discreetly, as you understand. We'll be making history, Josefine."
Never had she heard him say her name, nor has she heard her own name for quite some time. She turned around, meeting his eyes. "Yes, Herr Överstelöjtnant. Hell Dovrige." (Befäska for "Hail Davostag").