A Battle Unseen

[Elena1012]

Crossing the Dargos Chubo.
August 28th, 5723
Metz-Leonid, Karoboro Canton, Xsampa
------------------------
Tsundue Dramuktsang stared at the phone on his desk. One easy call. Or, well.. easy was subjective. Calling would be easy. Convincing would be a challenge. Next to the phone, the newspaper, "PAX passes motion of No Confidence against Loup; Dakpa nominated as snap elections loom" in bright bold font. Was this what socialism had fallen to? Institutional rot? He was kept in the loop about the revealings that the Internal Security Committee found regarding Local Committee's cutting corners, and now seeing this, seeing PAX go against stability. All in the name of pursuing democracy. He didn't like Loup personally, she was too moderate for him, but she was worth respecting. She was handed an unideal situation and did her best. And PAX shot all attempts down. This instability would only get worse. He knew that. As Custodian, he took an oath to protect socialism and the Revolution. The Premier took an oath to uphold the will of the Proletariat. Under normal circumstances, the Custodian was just ceremonial. Supposedly to be above petty factionalism and partisanship. PAX had shown him how well partisanship is working. How well factionalism is working. He took a deep breath. Was this worth doing? He thought about it. The New Democracy Act. All he needed was the support of the People's Commisar of Revolutionary Defense, and the Premier. Just that, and the NDA can be invoked. And stability can return to Xsampa. And then what? History repeats? 5 years of stability and then the same because of the left communists? 

He picked up the phone and dialed. He stayed silent as the phone rang. "Yes?" A voice asked from the phone. "Comrade Tsultrim, it's been awhile, hasn't it?" Tsundue hated small talk. It always made him uncomfortable. "You're calling me directly, because you need something. Otherwise, you would've called my secretary." Tsundue remained silent for a moment. "You got me. I'll cut to the chase then." Thankfully, he thought to himself. "We both have seen the instability hitting our beloved country this year. It's gotten bad. Loup had her flaws, but she was trying. And now PAX kicked the can down the road." Tsultrim cut him off. "I saw the news. Emotions are high in PAX." Tsundue gave a brief "mhm". The two were silent for a moment. "I believe we may need the New Democracy Act." Tsultrim was silent for a moment. "You know that's not an easy thing to say so casually." 

Tsundue sighed. Here comes the hard part. "Look, socialism is being undermined. TUUL is hardly letting up. If these strikes continue, it'll start affecting the people, and the moment they lose faith in socialism, capitalism will creep into Xsampa. And it's being undermined from the top with what Loup did. Partisanship won't fix this crisis. Look at what happened to Monlam Aurousseau. He's still comatose. We need the NDA. This is exactly the situation that they were worried of when they developed it a century ago." Silence. Tsultrim responded slowly. "You do realize that you'll need the Premiers approval as well. Dakpa is stubborn for procedure. We both know that." Tsundue shot his shot. "I know. But two beats one, doesn't it? We need action. Not procedure. No Premier is ever going to vote to terminate their own government. If we don't act, Socialism dies a slow, painful death."

Tsultrim was silent. He sighed. "I'll make the preparations. The XDA will march on Metz-Leonid on the 31st. The Revolution will need to take priority over democracy. For now at least." He hung up. Tsundue smiled. Sure, this technically wasn't legal. The NDA required the Premier to approve as well. But, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. The NDA has never been invoked before either, so Tsundue has legal room to make himself the Premier, form his own cabinet and rule by decree. PAX will be suspended. The CPX and ISDP and everyone else will be horrified. But the Revolution must survive. And if they can't support that, then the parties will need to be replaced. But, one step at a time. Tsundue had to make preparations as well.

[Rogue]

REPUBLICAN SECURITY SERVICE — DIRECTORATE OF EXTERNAL OPERATIONS
Dovani Desk

CLASSIFICATION: SECRET // RSS EYES ONLY
FILE: DEO/DOV/XSA-01
SUBJECT: After-Action Report — Operation KHARTSAMPA
PERIOD: Pre-invocation liaison through first quarter of the Custodianship

1. Summary
Operation KHARTSAMPA was the Service's response to the invocation of the New Democracy Act by Custodian Tsundue Dramuktsang and the installation of his All-Unity Cabinet in Metz-Leonid. The action inside Xsampa was planned and executed by Xsampan actors, principally People's Commissar of Revolutionary Defense Tsultrim, the officer corps of the Democratic Army, and the Custodian himself. The Service's role was to stabilise the outcome once the march on the People's Assembly had taken place, judging a consolidated Custodianship preferable to a return to the factional paralysis that preceded it. Objectives of support, counter-intelligence, and liaison have all been met.

2. Pre-Action Posture
Dovani Desk had maintained working relationships with figures in both the Revolutionary Defense Commissariat and the Custodian's circle over the preceding years, in the ordinary course of allied liaison. No indication of the specific timing of the NDA invocation was passed to Headquarters in advance; the action caught the Service, like most observers, by surprise. Standing assessments had nonetheless flagged the CPX deadlock as unsustainable, and contingency planning for a shift of this kind was already on the shelf.

3. Consolidation Phase
Within the first week, the Service moved a small support element forward under existing diplomatic cover, at the invitation of Xsampan counterparts. Assistance was concentrated in areas where the new government's own capabilities were thinnest: protest-mapping in the larger cities, cadre identification across the Democratic Opposition bloc (CPX, ISDP, SLP, LGD, XIP, TUUL), and signals support against organisers. Arrests, detentions and public order measures remained entirely Xsampan; the Service contributed analysis and product, not hands.

In parallel, a counter-intelligence cell worked alongside Xsampan services against third-country residencies attempting to rally the Democratic Opposition and locate former Premier Dakpa. Two stations operating under press and NGO cover were substantially degraded through coordinated Xsampan expulsions built on joint product. A third remains in place but under feed.

4. Present Position
The RSS is now entrenched in Xsampa as the Custodianship's principal foreign security partner. Advisory lines are in place to the Custodian's protective detail, the political-surveillance directorate, and the signals intercept bureau inherited from the old Commissariat. Training of a new cadre is conducted at a joint facility outside Metz-Leonid. The relationship rests on mutual interest: Dramuktsang gains a professionalised service he can trust against the Democratic Opposition; the Service gains durable access to a strategically placed ally in Dovani. The Service assesses this footing as stable over the reporting horizon.

[REDACTED], Senior Analyst, Dovani Desk

[Elena1012]

A Crack.
February 12th, 5724
----------------------------
Subject; Internal Memo to ALL Internal Security Committee members.
----------------------------
The ongoing instability plaguing the country has shown no signs of ending. Fortunately, it has not yet become violent. But something must change. As it stands, the Democratic Opposition is going to get louder, bolder and more demanding, the longer the Custodian Tsundue remains in power. The ruling of the Supreme Revolutionary Court will ultimately determine how far this country can stretch.

Time and time again, the Custodian has frequently ignored and outright rejected our proposals. From canceling our investigation on Public Security to ignoring our concerns regarding storming into Lenakha and arresting students, the Custodian has elected to take a more aggressive approach to breaking up the Democratic Opposition. It is not unfair to assume that a crackdown may be looming. As such, this internal memo is aimed at all individuals within the Internal Security Committee, and has been authorized by the Director of the Internal Security Committee.

While these are unprecedented times, and the Supreme Revolutionary Court is still debating the legality of the New Democracy Act, all Internal Security Agents, staffers, and individuals are instructed to delay their orders and assignments for as long as possible. Until the Court properly rules the NDA as legal or not, Internal Security can not, and will not operate under illegal pretenses. An outright mutiny is out of the question. Any blatantly illegal orders received from the Custodian are to be ignored if possible and put through rounds of bureaucracy if necessary. While the Internal Security Committee is thoroughly devoted to the security of the Revolution, it is perhaps time to consider where our allegiances stand, and whether the Custodian has the best vision for Xsampa. Outright contact with the Democratic Opposition is currently ill-advised and the Director will not assume any responsibility for rogue actors, nor will persecution of rogue actors occur. All individuals are simply instructed to thoroughly review all orders received, reaffirm whether the order is rooted in a legal basis or not, and act within the confines of what is legal. Above all, illegal orders must be rejected and if that is not possible, delayed and executed in a poor and sloppy manner. 

This memo is to remain in effect until the Supreme Revolutionary Court rules on the NDA in April. As the world begins adjusting to this crisis, we must remember that we serve the people. Not ego's.
----------------------------
Internal Memo authorized by the Director of the Internal Security Committee, Richen Chevotet.
----------------------------

[myungpartikrasi]

Nukte, Bianjie
October 14, 5721

---

The carpet beneath my feet is too soft. It feels unstable, like walking on a marsh, and for a second, I’m terrified I’ll simply sink through the floor and disappear before I ever reach the stage. My palms are slick, and I keep wiping them against the fabric of my trousers, but the dampness returns instantly.

Every time I breathe, the air feels like it’s catching on something sharp in my throat. I can hear the muffled roar of the crowd through the heavy doors, and my heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m sure people can see my jacket jumping. I am twenty-eight years old, a Member of the Khanate Yuan, and yet, in this hallway, I feel like I’m seven again, hiding in the gap between the wardrobe and the wall.

“Sorahiko!”

The name is a ghost that won’t stay buried. In my mind, it carries the scent of stale tobacco and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. It was the name my father used to pin me to the floor, a heavy, jagged word he threw like a stone whenever his own life felt too small. Sorahiko, get over here. Sorahiko, why are you so useless? When he spoke it, I wasn't a person; I was just a target for his frustration, a punching bag for a man who couldn't handle the silence of our house. I remember the weight of his hand, the hot blur of a shouted insult, and the way I would pray to be invisible—to be anything other than the boy he thought he was raising.

I reach the heavy doors of the hall and pause, my hand trembling so violently I have to pull it back. I close my eyes and try to think of the smell of wet plaster and PVC cement.

I remember the first day at the Muren-no-sato Technical School. I was nineteen, and I had spent the morning terrified that I’d be found out. I stood in that narrow registrar’s office, the air smelling of industrial floor cleaner, my heart in my mouth.

“Name?” the clerk asked, not looking up.

I swallowed hard. My voice felt like it was stuck in the back of my throat, buried under a decade of silence. I thought of the plumbing kits I’d been practising with—the way you could take a system that was leaking, failing, and broken, and rebuild it until the water ran clear. I thought of the plastering workshops, the meditative rhythm of smoothing over the cracks in a wall until the surface was flawless and new. I wanted that for myself. I wanted to plaster over the Sorahiko they had tried to make me.

“Sora,” I whispered. Then, louder: “Sora Irifune.”

Writing it down felt like an act of war. For the first few months, I was a nervous wreck, convinced that the plumbing instructors would see right through me, that the other students would hear the old name echoing behind my chosen one. But as I learned to solder joints and level walls, the anxiety began to change. It became a tool. My hands were still shaking back then, but they were shaking while they were building.

The doors swing open, and the sound of my name—my real name—washes over me like a tidal wave.

“Sora! Sora! Sora!”

It’s not a weapon. It’s a chant. It’s a hundred thousand voices rising in a rhythmic pulse that makes the very air vibrate. I start to walk, and my legs feel like lead. Every step is a fight against the urge to turn and run. I can feel the sweat prickling at my hairline. I look up, and the lights are blinding, blurring the faces of the delegates into a sea of green and teal.

I reach the stage. Eldembu Gūwalgiya is there, waiting. He sees my hands trembling as I reach for the lectern, and he steps closer—not to take over, but to let me lean, just a little, on his presence. Behind him, Heshen Aisin Gioro gives me a look that is terrifyingly steady, a silent command to stand my ground.

I look out at the crowd. I see the labourers from the south, the Bianjie farmers from the north, and the students who look exactly as terrified and hopeful as I felt ten years ago. Their eyes are on me, but they aren't waiting for a saviour; they’re waiting for one of their own to speak. The fear is still there—it’s a cold knot in my stomach—but the warmth of their voices is starting to melt it.

I grip the edges of the podium so hard my knuckles turn white. I wait until the chanting fades into a heavy, expectant silence. I take one last, shaky breath, and I let the ghost of the child in the corner finally rest.

“I am Sora Irifune,” I say, and for the first time today, my voice sounds like it belongs to me. “A proud daughter of Bianjie.”

I can feel the electricity in the room, the collective breath of thousands of members. I tense my arm, feeling the strength of a plumber who knows how to hold a line, and I raise my closed fist into the light.

“The Green Alliance is ready to bring a new vision to Bianjie!” I shout, the words tearing through the last of my doubt. “Let’s bring ordinary people back into the people’s Yuan!”

[Doc]

Informal Audience Hall, Imperial Seat
Kaliburg, Grand Duchy of Ananto, Jan 4, 5725

Lady Melanie Alvarez-McLinn sat alone in the large empty space which served Her Imperial Majesty as the Informal Audience room. From time to time, service staff came in and wordlessly refilled the lady's coffee cup and offered her another lemon bar. The last one was loaded with sugar, and Lady Alvarez waived a second one off.

At length, as she was draining her second cup of coffee, another waiter wheeled in a small table, with a tea service set on it on it, and two cups, a kettle water heater, and a small ceramic jar filled with powdered opium. The lady, who had once been Chancellor had seen this before: it meant the Empress was arriving. The waiter placed the small table near her and then turned around, again without a word, and left. The next person through the door would be Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Carolina II Ananto. Lady Alvarez was in a much different relationship to the Empress than she was when she was removed from office a year ago. She stood, expectantly and at attention.

Within a minute, the door opened, and in walked the Empress. She wore a characteristically flattering wool dress, with her signature red and white tartan pattern woven into the yarn. Her long hair was tied low on her head and swung freely down her back. She walked toward the table. Lady Alvarez now bowed low as the Empress approached, and the Empress walked past her, saying over her shoulder "Please retake your seat, Madame. Would you care for some tea?"

Lady Alvarez knew that she did not. The Empress routinely took tea with opium and Lady Alvarez, when she was Chancellor, had always sought to avoid the tea, because she had no desire first to become addicted, and second to lose control of her faculties. As she thought of how to refuse, the Empress brought two cups to the table, and placed one in front of the Lady. The Baronette could smell the poppy flowers rising from the glass and the tea had the telltale sign of having been spiked with powdered opium. Perhaps she could just, not drink much of it. Lady Alvarez smiled politely and nodded to say thank you.

Protocol of formal audiences held that the Empress always spoke first. But informal meetings were meant to be a conversation between individuals in the Empress' presence. So the former Chancellor wasn't too sure who should start. The Empress took a long draw of her tea and smiled. The Chancellor was not sure what the smile meant. She saw the Empress' eyes dart, ever so imperceptibly to the cup sitting before the former Chancellor. Lady Alvarez caught the gesture, smiled again meekly, and lifted the cup to her lips to take the smallest sip ever. As she lowered the cup, and caught the eye of the Empress again, there she sat, with the same smile on her face.

"How have you been Melanie?" began the Empress.

The question caught Lady Alvarez off guard. "Please Her Imperial Majesty, I have been alright. I thank her for her concern." The Lady, though she was a member of the Order of Gray Smoke and formerly the head of government, no longer had the privilege of addressing the Empress directly, though she may speak alone with her still.

The Empress sat looking at Lady Alvarez, and then there was the same imperceptible eye twitch, which said to Lady Alvarez that the Empress expected her to take another drink. The Empress lifted her cup and took a healthy draw and set it down. Lady Alvarez once more touched the cup to her mouth, and once more let the black tea with bergamot and opium just wet her lips but did not ingest any of the potion. As she set her cup down, the Empress was still staring at her, her ice blue eyes burning holes in the back of Lady Alvarez' head.

"Can I do something for Her Imperial Majesty," she said when the stare became uncomfortable.

"Yes, you may, Madame. You can drink with us. Our cup is half empty, and yours is still as full as when we set it out for you."

"Please Her Imperial Majesty, I..." She was cut off.

"Nonsense. Speak to us directly."

"Madame, the protocol..." said Lady Alvarez, almost out of habit.

"We are the law, Melanie and we desire to speak directly with you. But first, you will show us the courtesy of drinking our tea." The normally soft spoken Empress had a sharp dictatorial streak, and her softness and erudite manner always put that streak in high relief whenever the Empress chose to show it.

Lady Alvarez had not planned on cancelling the rest of her afternoon, the first she had been back to Kaliburg in a year. But, she did not see any way around it. With a sigh, she picked up her cup and drained it in a single gulp.

"We have become indecorous in our old age, have we?" asked the Empress with a more mischievous smile now.

"Madame, you have summoned me to the Capital from my home. I have answered your summons, and now I have been drugged at your hand. What is it that Your Imperial Majesty wishes of me?"

"Lady Alvarez, we..." The Empress stopped short, as if not anticipating the question, and not having an answer prepared. "We... I... wanted to see you."

"About what, Your Imperial Majesty?" she shot back.

"We wished to see our friend," said the Empress.

"Your friend, Madame?" asked the Chancellor incredulously. "What on earth made you think we were friends?"

The Empress' smile faded. "We were not?"

"No Madame, we were not."

The Empress let her small stirring spoon slip from her fingers and it clinked on the plate. She studied the face of Lady Alvarez, and Lady Alvarez attempted to show her no emotion. The Empress' eyes narrowed as she studied, and the former Chancellor could see the Empress turning the idea over in her head. The Empress drained her cup as well, and stood to get another cup. "Another?" the Empress asked.

"No, Madame. I do not desire to be drugged further. I wish to be sensible when I leave here." said the Chancellor.

The Empress turned her back to the her former Chancellor, saying nothing, and remained turned around far longer than it took to make a cup of tea. Lady Alvarez could see her shake a little, a motion that reminded her of crying. The Empress' head sunk lower, before she drew in a sharp breath, lifted her head again, and clearly wiped her cheek, before picking up her cup and turning around. The Lady could see it: The Empress had indeed been crying. Lady Alvarez-McLinn said nothing. It was not that she did not feel sorry she had made this woman cry. It was more that the drugs were starting to take effect, and Lady Alvarez' mind was floating, so her response was slower. Melanie knew this feeling too well, unfortunately.

"Madame," she said, with the slowed cadence of someone who was not a frequent user of opium, despite her experience with it as Chancellor. "I apologize that what I said caused you grief, but you insist upon truth and I did not wish to lie to you."

The Empress smiled again. "It's alright, Lady Alvarez. It's a wound, but it is not a new one and we are glad it came from you."

Lady Alvarez shook her mind loose from the grip of the opium for a moment and tried to make small talk to defuse the tension. "How has Her Imperial Majesty been?" she asked.

The Empress sipped her tea. "We miss you."

Lady Alvarez heard it and immediately responded, "Then why did you have me arrested and kicked out of office? You ruined my life."

The Empress' face sunk, and became blank. She pondered the question. "We... we did not have you arrested."

"But you knew about it?" shot back Lady Alvarez.

"Yes," answered the Empress.

"And you let them do it." said Lady Alvarez.

"Yes," answered the Empress again.

"And you did nothing?" demanded the now drugged Lady Alvarez, suddenly emboldened by the opium.

"Madame, we did what we could, but it was your actions that caused your problems, not our inaction," answered the Empress.

The Chancellor glared at the Empress. Of course she was correct, but the Empress could have protected her. After all the years of service she put in, after all the groveling and after all the compromise of her own personal beliefs for this Empress who clearly governed from caprice, which she calls philosophy, when I would have preferred Pragmatism and for you to go back and get Gaduridos, which is yours, which is ours..."

The look on the Empress' face, a look of stunned silence, told Lady Alvarez that she had been saying those words out loud, rather than just thinking them. "Forgive me, Majesty. It's the opium. I thought I was just thinking them and instead I was speaking them."

The Empress said "Melanie, your own mouth is what was your undoing--You speak without contemplation and you tell truths in spite of yourself. We have always valued your frank and honest opinion, and we know you to be a good person. But you were involved in treason and sedition. The prostitution stuff... as personally distasteful as that was to us, that was the least you could have been charged with. We know about all of it, because your co-conspirators turned you in. In another nation you would have been hung for what you did. We saved your life, then and more recently, so you may consider how to be a better person, how to be of better service to your Empire, and spend the rest of your days on this Earth doing what you can to make our nation a better place. Our nation, the one you say you love so much. It was our desire to give you chance after chance to prove yourself to yourself, because we were friends, and you made mistakes, but we were challenged to forgive you. Because there is something of the Truth in you, and in prayer, that still small voice spoke to me and led me to remember your humanity. What happened no longer matters: it is what you do with the rest of your time that matters, and we believe in you and your humanity, though you may detest our company."

The Empress' words washed over Lady Alvarez like a tidal wave. For their entire time together, the Empress had always shown compassion, while Lady Alvarez had always grudgingly stood in her Presence. The Empress had her flaws, but in Melanie's recollection, she had always shown her kindness. Something few did. When Lady Alvarez became Chancellor, she knew she was not well liked by the Anantos, and had been forced upon the Empress. Though the Empress had always reached out, and had always shown her grace, and let her take the lead on several important matters. And the Empress had indeed commuted her sentence. And--had the Empress also ensured that the trials were held by the City Government rather than the National Government? Could the Empress be the reason she is at home in Lucid rather than living her life out on King's Rock?

"Madame," said Lady Alvarez, very slowly. "I am heavily under the influence here, and am very drowsy at the moment. How may I be of service to you?"

The Empress drained her cup. "We require your service to our Empire one last time," said the Empress. "Lady Christina wishes to retire at House Ananto and her branch is about to fall off the Royal rolls. And since there are no more Anantos after her generation except through our line, it is a free choice now. You are our kin. We should like it very much if you stepped up and served as Director of House Ananto beginning this September."

Lady Alvarez laughed--that the Empress would ever consider her for such a prestigious position was ridiculous. "Majesty, do you remember that I was ousted for corruption?" she said with a goofy, drugged smile.

"You are our cousin, you know how to budget, you are fundamentally honest and a trustworthy Brethrenist, if you are not our friend, and you know how to raise funds-- your side business was evidence of that..." The Chancellor bristled being reminded-- that was her own addiction, but it was not a business. "You are the first person we thought of for this post. Who better to protect the legacy of Fredrick I Ananto than his direct descendant?"

"Majesty, I hardly know what to say," she said. "I cannot be trusted in that role."

"Melanie, I believe in your goodness and your ability--You were the best chancellor I ever had. If you say yes to me today, there will be nothing at all anyone could ever say against you."

"Would I live in Kaliburg?" asked Lady Alvarez.

"Unfortunately, the Lady Mayor would not permit it and we seek to maintain her good will. However," she said. "Our aunt left us her home in Luxon. We would make a gift of it to you to keep forever. It is a beautiful home, just on the beach there, and 35 minutes from Kaliburg by train. Or if you prefer we would allow House Ananto offices to relocate to Luxon, if that makes life easier."

Lady Alvarez agreed, the Princess of the Empire's house was beautiful. It had always been something Lady Alvarez enjoyed visiting. "And Your Imperial Majesty... What would our relationship be?"

The Empress looked at her and swallowed hard. "Whatever you think is appropriate." Lady Alvarez got the distinct impression that this was very difficult for the Empress to say. "Our daughter looks up to you, and thinks you are a visionary. If it would be ok for her to visit and perhaps learn from you, that would satisfy us."

Lady Alvarez nodded and said, "Aye Madame. I'll teach her everything I know, but what I meant was what between you and me?"

The Empress smiled, "Let's start with this. May we tell Lady Christina that she may leave her post in September?"

Lady Alvarez smiled and nodded. "Sure, Majesty," she answered flippantly. "But are you sure she would accept me?"

The Empress stood once more and went to refill her cup. "It is all arranged--We were speaking with her while you were waiting. She will make you welcomed while you train, and you are granted permission to travel to and from Kaliburg during your training. We have already signed the papers deeding you our Aunt's home and investing you. Welcome to our family, Princess Melanie Ananto-McLinn."

Melanie stared at her: Had the Empress just promoted her? Had the Empress just raised her from the lowest rungs of the peerage to royalty? She started to speak, but the words would not come out. She could not fully comprehend what had just happened.

Lady Alvarez, now Princess Melanie Ananto-McLinn watched the Empress move around the room and then take a seat back in front of her. The Empress raised her cup to her lips, took a big drink and then lowered it to the table. Melanie looked at her eyes as she stared back, and she could discern just the tiniest black pinpoint pupil in a sea of lavish, multivariegated blue. The Empress was completely stoned, yet she moved and spoke as if she was entirely lucid and sober. Melanie could not fathom how she did it.

"Close your mouth Madame," said the Empress with a smile. "Don't act so surprised, daughter of Nicolette. It is nothing for us to create royalty. We do not even need to raise a finger. We merely have to say the word. As you well know already, we are the Law. You no longer need to pretend to be our friend. You are, in law and before the world, already our sister."

[AdAstra36]

High Command of the Revolutionary People's Army, Cise, Utaristan, 16th of May, 5725

---

Admiral Robin Waltz, the only admiral of the Revolutionary People’s Army Navy, read the report over and over. It was impossible. A corvette captured by a mere band of pirates? The most modern ship in the RPAN, at that! He couldn’t believe his eyes. They didn’t even know how many pirates there were or where the ship had gone after! He could easily forget the idea that he would be promoted to minister anytime soon now. In fact, he should forget the idea of any career at all; Ibraev will have his head, probably literally, after this, and not only his. Well. Unlike these poor fools, he could at least choose a way to go out on his own. He opened the cabinet of his desk and took out the gun.

---

Prison CIS-01, Greater Cise, Utaristan, 19th of May, 5725

---

"Prisoner Tursanov, come out," yelled the guard loudly. Malik Tursanov followed the guard to the muddy prison yard. How could so much go so wrong so quickly? He was a minister just a few days ago. Minister of Security and Defence at that.

"You have been found guilty of gross incompetence, corruption, and effort to undermine the Revolutionary People's Republic by the Revolutionary People's Supreme Court and sentenced to death by firing squad."

---

Palace of Revolution, Cise, Utaristan, 21st of May, 5725

---

Imekanu Aigner nervously knocked at the door in front of her. 'Get yourself together for fuck's sake; you are an intelligence agent; you have been through worse,' she thought to herself. The thing, of course, was she hadn't been through worse; being shot at by religious lunatics or spying on a country that now vividly hated anything from her homeland didn't even hold a candle to meeting the most powerful person in Utaristan, the woman that built this country. 'Red Empress', they called her privately. Of course, if anyone heard any of them say that, their career in intelligence, or really anywhere, would be quickly over.

"Come in," called out a feminine but firm voice from the inside. Imekanu opened the door and took a step inside. Honestly, it was as she expected; Red Empress was known for her strictness, and the room reflected it. The only decorations were the portraits of Metz and Leonid on the wall behind the wooden desk. And of course directly behind the desk was the woman herself, Abenanka Ibraev.

"Comrade President, Comrade Minister Navai sent me to give a personal report."

"Of course, go ahead, Comrade," replied the brown-eyed woman behind the desk. Despite her relatively short stature, power and calm radiated from her.

"Comr–, excuse me, former Admiral Robin Waltz has committed suicide right after the incident. Former Bureau Director of the Bureau of Military Procurement Abdul Nasyrov was executed on the 18th of May. Former Minister Tursanov was executed 2 days ago, followed by former Chief of the General Staff Army General Oqil Komilov on the same day."

The woman on the other side of the desk considered her.

"Very well. Comrade, what is your name?"

"Imekanu Aigner, Comrade President"

"Comrade Aigner, what is your current assignment?"

"Agent of the Bureau of Counter-Revolutionary Activities, Comrade President!"

"And what do you want to do in 5 years?"

That question gave Imekanu a pause. She must answer carefully; if Ibraev decides she doesn't like her, her career is immediately over. But she heard that Ibraev liked direct and ambitious people as long as they didn't endanger her. She decided that coming off as meek would be worse than coming off as over-ambitious.

"I want to lead the Bureau, Comrade President."

The other woman once again considered her. Imekanu felt like every fibre of her being was being pulled apart and carefully judged.

"Very well then, Comrade. I admire your ambition."

Imekanu felt relief surge through her as suddenly she was whole again.

"But…" And suddenly it was gone, and it was like she was falling into an infinite well of anxiety.

"I think it's better you serve the Revolution and the Party more directly. Report to the Comrade Republic Commander of Revolutionary People's Civic Militia. You shall serve as Section Commander of the Direct Oversight Section. From now on, you lead all the commissars that oversee the Revolutionary People's Army. Do not disappoint me. I shall inform Minister Navai soon."

Stunned, Imekanu couldn't believe her luck, but the service instinct took over quickly.

"Of course, Comrade President, I am very honoured!"

"Very well, Comrade Section Commander, you are dismissed. Glory to the People's Revolution of Dovani!"

"Glory to the People's Revolution of Dovani!"

On her way out Imekanu was almost running. Almost. She would, of course, never stoop to such a childish thing.

[Ligbruderkrieg]

The Final Opportunity.
February 26, 5726 - Undisclosed location, Luthori.

Luthori is the capitalist hell-hole, and they knew it.

Labour, the Tories, the Liberals, the Left, all of them served the Great Capital with mind-blowing levels of loyalty. Nobody in the political sphere was willing to do anything for the workers, perfectly content with the status quo. They all say: “capitalism needs to be reformed, not destroyed” or “communists are the antithesis to what we strive to build”

Valentina had seen it all, every single excuse to defend this madness of an ideology, to defend capitalism, their pitiful attempt to put it in the “workers’ interest”. When her father killed himself due to crippling debts and her mother went into a mental asylum, capitalism wasn’t in “her interest”, it was however actively destroying her and her family. When the Prince of Orange was nearly killed, the whole nation was emotionally distressed, where was that worry, that distress when her father died? It was nowhere to be seen, his death was reported in the media, sure. They said it was a “saddening incident”, offered thoughts and prayers, and went on with their day.

Oh, did she hate these guys, how would she want to put them in their place, one day, she needed to avenge her father – he was disrespected even after death, she couldn’t let it slide, she-

Just as she fell deep into her vengeful thoughts, one sound was able to wake her up. 

“Wake up, we got work to do.” the voice said as it promptly left.

Work, that’s right, they had work to do, she had nearly forgot why she was here. She instinctively walked alongside the man in the narrow corridor of the makeshift base of operations, they had been working underground ever since the Domestic Intelligence Agency discovered one of their bases and led an operation leading to the arrest of numerous members, putting their plans into jeopardy. 

But what plans, they may ask. Plans which will change an entire nation, she would answer.

The thing is, today, something felt off – the maps were scattered, people were running everywhere and their leader, the one which named herself “Flower” as her codename was nowhere to be seen. They had been summoned into her office, alongside other high-ranking leaders, she learned.

As she stepped into the room, she sat down alongside the four others, and Flower was in her bed, one hand massaging her temple in exasperation. Files were scattered left and right on her desk and the room looked more like a mess than an actual room.

“Well,” she said “now that everyone is here, I can tell you, we’re fucked.”

“How so?” one asked, they all gasped at the crude words, how the hell could they be fucked? Their plan was nearly complete; they just needed to wait until the opening days of the World Cup to make their move.

“One of our liaison intel agents got busted by the DIA” she simply answered, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “We need to make this now or we won’t be able to.”

The room became silent suddenly, a silent understanding setting in upon the different men and women present in it. If they couldn’t make their move at their preferred opportunity, they would have to make it now.

And at last, make Luthori see the inevitable fate of capitalism.

[Doc]

Ananto House, Eveari
Late day, August 2, 5729

The Buzzer in the sitting room rang. Carolina was expecting this visit. She lightly tapped the button and spoke, "Please send him in." The door clicked and in walked Sir Johnathan Mickelson. He bowed courteously, and the Empress bade him to sit. "Sir John, would you care for tea?" she asked. The Chancellor accepted the offer and the Empress busied herself at the bar preparing the hot water, then filling each of the tea cups with loose leaf tea in mesh tea balls, and then pouring the boiling hot water over the top. Within a couple minutes, the tea was steeped to perfection. She removed the tea balls and stirred in a half tea spoon each of opium powder before bringing the entire tea set to the table, placing a tea cup, saucer and spoon before the Chancellor and one before her self.

"Thank you for visiting us, Lord Chancellor. What news from Kaliburg?"

"Madame, your cousin Lady Allison has died in Xanadu."

The Empress took a sip of her tea, which was still too hot for the Chancellor. "Well, she lived to 85 then. A good long while. She did not suffer I hope?"

"No Madame. She was assisted by her doctor and her children and members of her meeting were with her."

"Well, she was the last of Margaret's children," said the Empress. "Margaret... she was from what we were told a very remarkable woman. My grandmother loved her sister very much." The Empress reflected quietly for a moment. "We are glad that she was not in pain when she passed."

"Indeed Madame," said the Chancellor.

"Please fly the Imperial Standard at half mast in Kaliburg for three days in tribute. We shall have the house staff prepare to return her home this week."

"It shall be done, Madame," said Sir Johnathan.

"What more?" she asked, as if wanting to move on from the subject.

"Well, we recorded a slight trade surplus this last year. That economic data will be released later this week by the Ministry of Trade."

"Then your campaign to reach out to other nations is bearing some fruit then. Congratulations, Sir Johnathan."

"Well, when you increase your trade partners you see an increase in trade. That's a fairly simple calculus."

"Indeed, And when you let ideology get in the way of more practical considerations, you tend to cut your own throat," responded the Empress. "Its something our nationalists can not get out of the way of. Practical considerations must always carry the day when it comes to realist foreign policy. We can only do what we can do, and that is not dependent upon what we think we can or should do. Keep up the good work, Mr. Mickelson. You will be an asset to our Son as well."

"Thank you Your Imperial Majesty."

"Also congratulations on your recent convention, Sir. We have heard very positive things about the proceedings."

"Thank you Madame. Yes, it went well."

The Empress took another sip. "No trouble in the committees, we hope?"

The Chancellor followed suit and knew that once he sipped, he had about 20 minutes until the drug took effect. "No trouble, Madame."

"And the... eh... Democrats... were well behaved?"

"They were, Madame, and contributed votes on important matters when we needed them. We had to do some log rolling on a couple of topics, but the main concession the Orthodox delegates gave was to approve their candidates on the slate in both Sulari and Eshar as well, even though technically Eshar didn't cross the threshhold. But they showed up for us when we needed them, and so we repaid the favor on their ballot access."

"The inner workings of the Party are both fascinating and terrifying to us, Mr. Mickelson. Fascinating because these proceedings and activities like log rolling are a bit like magic, while terrifying because we will occasionally attempt to imagine if our government actually ran like this... We would have people starving in the streets waiting for the Government to convince enough people to vote for poor relief. It's terribly inefficient and extremely inhumane to run things on a majoritarian democratic model. Could you imagine a far more difficult and ethically ambiguous issue like tax reform? My god, how do democracies accomplish ANYthing of value or worth in their country?"

"Well, Madame, luckily the stakes within the Institutional Convention are not quite that high. We are merely deciding what names to write on the ballot and creating a statement of the things we would like to accomplish in the coming term. Those are relatively easy compared to things like poor relief or tax reform."

"And Dr. Brandt. How did she do?"

The Chancellor took another sip. "I think, Madame, that she will fit in. She may clamor for changes, but deep down, I get the sense that she is not a revolutionary. She is an idealist, who wants to revitalize our system for a new generation. Not overthrow it. She wants votes to mean something."

"Would you describe her as a liberal?" asked the Empress.

"No, Madame. She is what you have yourself referred to as a supporter of substantive democracy, where the people themselves make real decicions for themselves."

The Empress sat and listened very closely. "Fascinatating," she said after some moments. "You've spoken to her then?"

"Aye Madame, I have interviewed her extensively: Her name is to be on the ballot in Sulari. I had to conduct a full background check of her and interview her directly."

"And you're sure she's not a radical?"

The Chancellor smiled. "Aye Madame. She is a patriot. If not for her calls for more popular representation in the government, I am sure she would find a nice home with our Nationalists."

"That's quite interesting to us..." said the Empress.

"If Your Imperial Majesty would like, I am sure an audience could be arranged. I could attend if you desire."

Carolina laughed. "That's funny, Lord Chancellor. Can you imagine us, the autocrat and sovereign of a personalist hereditary monarchy, meeting with a Democrat, who is our subject? That notion is positively scandalous, Mr. Mickelson! Are you trying to ruin our legacy?"

The Chancellor was ot sure how to take the Empress' bemusement at his suggestion, "No, Your Imperial Majesty, I only meant to..."

"AFTER we leave office, Mr. Mickelson. We would love to sit down with her and speak with her on her ideas after we abdicate next year."

Mickelson felt like he had dodged a bullet. "Oh, yes, of course, Madame. That makes complete sense."

The Empress drained her cup and smiled. "You're a good man, John. On another topic, we read Nadiya has launched people into space."

The Chancellor responded, "Yes, Madame, that is true."

"And Kalistani astronauts did not fly with them?"

"Well, Your Imperial Highness, it would appear not. They sent five of their own up instead, and stated their goal to keep them in space for 'only twenty years,' if I read the report correctly."

"Twenty years?!" said an incredulous Empress. "That must have been a typo."

"Likely so, Madame," said the Chancellor, "or mere propaganda."

"And Kalistan didn't help at all with the mission?" asked the Empress.

"There is no mention whatsoever of any Kalistani contributions, not help with tracking from Spencer, not help with rocket assembly and technology. It was reported as entirely a Nadiyan operation, though Xsampa helped provide launch facilities. The lack of any Kalistani participation was confirmed by ISCA."

"Well..." said the Empress with a shrug. "It's not to be helped."

"How would Your Imperial Majesty like to respond?" asked the Chancellor.

"No need to respond," said the Empress.

"Your Imperial Majesty, this is a slight."

"Eh, let them have it," said the Empress, in a softer, more easy going tone now that her opium was taking effect. "There is so little worth celebrating in that miserable insanely labyrinthine communist tundra, they should celebrate this accomplishment. It's a small win, and it didn't cost us anything at all. It's a non-story in Kalistan--their news coverage doesn't play on Kalistani television or radio, and the event was buried in an hourly news bulletin by KRTVN. If they are not going to use our guys, quietly bring them back home. I'd rather they come back to Kalistan than stay in Nadiya. It's alright. We know the role we played, and that's what really matters."

"Aye Madame," said the Chancellor. "It is forgotten then."

"Good. We want to ensure that our son has options when he takes the throne. Maintaining a small opening in the door with those people will give him at least a small option to expand if he desires, but complaining about propaganda closes that door. We won't say anything in public. It's really not important."

"Will... will do Madame..." said the Chancellor, who suddenly felt the narcotic wash over him. This was a good feeling, one of euphoria and a genuine sense of calm. It's one he knew very well from his drinking tea with the Empress on multiple occasions. And signaled to him that perhaps he better begin making his way home.

"Sir Mickelson, it seems that the opium has finally set in. Are you feeling ok?" the Empress asked.

"Y--yes, Majesty... It just feels a little strong today... Could I.... trouble you for a couch or a bed?"

The Empress smiled. "Can you walk, Sir?" Clearly she found this a bit amusing.

"I think... so...." he said. The Empress immediately excused herself and returned in a minute with her personal secretary. "Lady Houston, please show Mr. Mickelson to the lounge where he may rest until he feels better. The opium got on top of him today..." She turned to her Chancellor. "Don't worry, Sir John, I will have the guest bedroom made for you, and we will have you as our guest tonight." The Chancellor half consciously nodded his approval. He had intended to return to Kaliburg this evening, but it no longer looked like this was his fate.

[Flip]

April 4th 5732 (backdated)
Enriko watched from a safe distance as the kerosene fire engulfed the massive trunks of the ancient trees. It was gruesome, yet at the same time a sense of awe washed over him. “Not even they can stand in the way of progress,” he thought to himself.
Enriko heard a familiar sound behind him. The noise of a vehicle whose engine was struggling to traverse the still partially rough terrain.
The car was approaching. Through the swirling dirt and the smoke from the burning trees, he could make out vague outlines.
The vehicle looked official—*very official*.
About ten meters in front of him, the black truck came to a stop. Without turning off the engine, the doors opened. First, two tall men in black uniforms got out.
Even through the soot-filled air, he could make out the insignia on their upper arms.
The great seal of the Supreme Council
Enriko felt a lump forming in his throat.
Finally, a smaller figure stepped out of the vehicle, hunched over. Her face contorted and her upper body visibly tense, Commissar Gudrapulmo approached Enriko.

“The plans for this new plot have been changed,” she said in a hoarse voice.
At a subtle gesture, the two guards moved to the back of the truck and hauled down a black metal case marked with yellow “Caution: GMO!” signs.
"You will plant this instead of...whatever the plan originally was"
Gudrapulmo seemed distracted, then slighlty while she was searching for something in the pockets of her coat. Seemingly relieved she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one of them with shaking hands. Once again she reached into her pockets this time revealing an envelope.
"Here, take this"
Without a word Enriko took it out of her hand.
After a deep drag from her cigarette the Commissar said "Go on, look inside" while exhaling the smoke directly into Enriko's face. 
"I don't want to be accused of underpaying 'public servants'!"

[Flip]

https://forum.prtcy.com/thread-194-post-...l#pid13543