A Battle Unseen

[Augustus]

Outskirts of Tårnbæk, in the countryside town of Valholm, Davostag – 20 January 5634

"W-what...the...hell...", Erik Greger is standing urgently in front of the television in the living room. His thick brownish blonde hair a mess and his green eyes wide-open in shock. Unable to get a word out, trying to comprehend what's happening. Another man walks back and forth at the other side of the room, with greying brown hair, trying to call someone.
 
A girl around 16 years old, pretty, blonde hair in a bob cut, wearing a dark-grey shirt with a black skirt, is sitting on the sofa trying to understand what's happening. "Erik? Isn't mother there?" Without a response she hastily stands up, "Erik!"

Erik turns to her, trying to keep his calm. "Yeah... t-though I'm sure she's okay... yeah, no need to worry Greta"
 
Greta's blue-green eyes is filled with tears. "I...can't...I can't do this, Erik! First dad, and now...now m-mom..."
 
Erik swiftly walks up to her and wraps his arms around her. "You know mom, she can manage." Greta wipes her tears, nods and keep holding on to her brother.
 
The man, Erik and Greta's uncle, Ivar Troelsson, turns to them. "Kids. I just got a hold of Jäger. Your mother is alright, but it seems that they've been forced out of Kivonia. He said that if it they are completely routed that they intend on regrouping in Tyrhem."
 
Erik let's go of Greta, looks at the television one more time and turns around walking away with determined steps.
 
"What are you doing Erik?", Ivar asks in confusion. Erik stops in his tracks. Greta watches unsure what's going on.
 
Erik looks at  him, "Uncle, I want you to keep Greta safe", he then turns to her, "I am going to Tyrhem"
 
"NO!" she exclaims in horror, "Please brother!". She clumsily jumps forward grabbing him tightly around his waist. Pleading, her tears flowing. "Please don't! I don't want to lose you too! I promise to leave the youth party! Just...p-ple-" she tries to get her words out as she is unable to control her weeping "...please, stay... a-as you promised".
 
Just standing there in silence, Erik looks at Ivar. "Uncle", is all he says.
 
Ivar curses to himself, he then walks up to them, grabs Greta by the shoulders. As he looks up, tears flowing, confused, she is filled with panic as he realizes what's happening. Erik doesn't say anything, he just forces himself out of her grip, with their uncle holding her in place. She attempts to rush to him, but the pain of having lost her father just days before, her fear in losing her mother and her panic for what her brother is doing causes her to waste the remaining energy she has. She simply falls down, sitting akwardely on the floor, sobbing as she looks at her brother open the front door. He looks at her, "We'll be back soon, don't worry", he says as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

[Augustus]

Municipality of Tyrhem, Davostag – 22 January 5634

"Good day ma'am", a man, probably about 65 years old, tall with grey hair, stands behind the desk in the small town hotel. "Herr Jäger told me you were coming. I've cleared the building for you, and I can guarantee my discretion. I've also taken the liberty of collecting all necessary medical equipment, seeing as what's been happening on the news. Those regeringsjävlarna ("government bastards") know no limit."
 
Lena Greger looks at him, slightly bows her head, "Thank you Herr Grünner. I heard you were a medical soldier in the army, Anders here has been wounded, he's received basic treatment but it's not enough."
 
"Say no more ma'am. I'll get right on it", he says while stepping away from the hotel reception, "By the way. There is someone here waiting for you."
 
Lena looks at him confused. First fearing that they've been set up, but then another fear strikes her. Erik! "What in the gods' names are you doing here!?"
 
He looks at her, saddened, "I saw what happened. I rushed here as soon as I could. For the sake of Greta, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if we were to lose you too"
 
She looks at him, unsure what to say.
 
"Why didn't you call? We waited... Greta waited..." he says, trying his best to control his emotions, feeling that he's about to cry.
 
"I..." she wasn't sure what to say. All she could think about these past days was how to tell the children. But she had cowered. "The fact is th..."
 
"It's okay mom. I understand, and I'm sure Greta will come to understand too." He pauses. Looks at Jonas Jäger who nods at him and glances over to the other room seeing Grünner do his work on Eva. "You can't send me back now. They are looking for you, it will be too dangerous."
 
She understood that. It made sense. But still. She's at the risk of dying, and their father murdered. Could she allow him to witness his own mother be dragged away by the military police... or worse. She doesn't have any choice now. To protect him she needed him to be as close as possible. "Okay, but you'll do exactly as I say."
 
"I understand, mom" he responds.
 
Looking at Jäger who is standing prepared at the front door, "Jonas, when are the rest of the leadership arriving?"
 
"In an hour or so. I'll keep the communication going between us."
 
"Good. I really need a rest after all this, I'll go in and check on the old man and Eva. Erik, help Jonas with whatever he needs."
 
Erik nods.
 
About 50 minutes later.
 
Two cars were driving up to the hotel, Jäger and Erik stood guard. The former taking out his gun. "Do you have one for me?" Erik asks smirkingly.
 
Jäger gives him a quick glance, "You wish. You're about to begin military service, then you'll get one."
 
"If I begin" he responds. Jäger, keeping an eye out the window, doesn't respond.
 
"It's them", he opens the door for Gustav Björnman, leader of the Radical Party, and Anna Karlsdotter, leader of the Centre Party, as well as their small entourage.
 
Lena comes out to the reception room, "Thank gods you managed".
 
Having taken off her raincoat, drenched in rain, Anna looks at her furiously. "If I knew anything better I'd curse your name to Hel!"
 
"Please Anna, this isn't over just yet, we still hav..."
 
"We still have what?! We have nothing! How can you be so sure that the elections were even rigged in the first place?!" the Centre leader yells at her.
 
Lena looks confused, unsure what she even means, "I-i'm not sure what you mean? Of course they were, we had several reports indicating large scale election fraud and intimidation from..."
 
"From who? Hmm? FROM WHO? You, as a journalist, should know very well how the state operates."
 
"What do you mean?" Lena responds, an unsettling fear growing.
 
"Why and how was John arrested? The government arranged as we know, with the Cederstam family, to trick your husband into meeting them. Only the SSB operates in such ways! Only they have these kinds of ties with the private sector" Anna says, her voice trembling.
 
Lena looks at her, trying to keep her calm, "You are suggesting that the government with the SSB arranged for people around the country to call out election rigging to..."
 
"To make it seem as if we, YOU, had much bigger support than you actually had... Thus giving you the courage to attempt this foolish coup!"

The silence fills the room. Eva, having been stitched up, comes into the room with the help of Grünner. "Or you're having a stressful day Anna, causing crazy thoughts" Eva says.
 
Gustav Björnman, Radical Party leader, who has remained silent until now jumps in. "But to be fair, it wouldn't be the first time the SSB did something so drastic and dramatic, for the sake of some ulterior motive yet to be known." Erik looks at him curiously, deep in thought.
 
"Enough. I will not fill this room, our cause, with conspiracy theories at this moment. We have much more important things to do" Lena says firmly, trying to steer the conversation away towards something else.
 
"Right, let's begin moving to the nearby town of Loderyd" Jäger chimes in.
 
As the entourage heads out from the hotel, they hear a fierce sound of chopping in the air. Several headlamps are lightened on in the darkness of the town from six military vehicles. A military helicopter swoops in and hover above them, lightening their own headlamp. About sixty army soldiers stand at the road pointing their guns at them. A harsh voice can be heard, "Lay down your weapons and place yourself on the ground! Now!". The company is filled with panic, as Eva draws her gun and starts firing at the soldiers, screaming for the rest to go. Anna places herself on her knees, hands behind her head, trembling like never before. The rest rushes into the house, including the halting Eva. Grünner gets them to the backdoor.
 
Eva and Jäger, maintaining a position at the front door inside, sees as the soldiers rushes forward to Anna, who has laid down on the ground, putting handcuffs on her. The two joined the rest who secured the passage back. As they rush outside, they see as soldiers attempt to surround the house. Gustav is tackled by one soldier, while the rest somehow manage to rush to the bushes. Hiding behind some trees, Lena grabs her son "Erik, you must go now. I have to help Eva to safety", she says as Erik is filled with panic trying to refuse.

"Come Erik, she'll be alright" Günner says, as the 65 year old man grabs the young man, rushing to a smaller house near a smaller public park. Erik looks back, trying to get a look at what's happening, just seeing her mother looking at him to make sure he gets to safety. She then turns and rushes towards Eva and Jäger.
 
"Out of my way old man! I need to help her", Erik says, trying to get past the large Günner blocking the door.
 
"It is time you showed some respect to your mother, young man", he says while crossing his arms. "She has risked everything for you, so that you can keep living, happier and much better than she ever did". Erik just looks at him angrily, then turns his gaze to the floor, realizing he's not getting past the old man.
 
It was probably just a few minutes, but it felt like days.
 
Erik and Günner could hear noise, a lot of noise and a lot of shouting. They peaked out the window from the small house. The soldiers and what seemed to look like an army major gathered on foot and their vehicles at the park outside the small house the two were hiding in. They could hear parts of what was being said.
 
"Have you found the others?", the major asks the captain who just rushed up to her.
 
"Not yet, major. We have redirected the helicopter to search south, as some witnesses saw them heading that way." The major simply nods.
 
She turned to look at the captured Lena, Eva, Gustav and Anna. She then asked one of the lieutenants to get Kivonia on the line. Lena tried to observe the face of the major as she was talking to her superiors, hoping to find a clue, just something that could help them in some way. But nothing. The major hung up.
 
"Take those two away and prepare for a transfer to general Töller", the soldiers dragged Gustav and Anna away for one of the vehicles. "And you two", she says as she walks up to Lena and the injured Eva. She then turns around to see Jäger walking up to her. Lena completely stunned while Eva starts breathing more heavily, her face showing an increasing fury. "Well done, I'll take note of your patriotic service when compiling my report for High Command. We'll arrange for you to be taken to Kivonia", the major tells Jäger, who nods and meets Lena's eyes for a second before quickly turning them away, possibly in shame, and starts walking away.
 
"W...w-why...? Jonas?", Lena says, barely getting her words out, so quiet that the only one who could have heard was Eva who stood beside her.
 
"You fucking traitor!! You disgusting piece of worm crap! I'll have you ripped to shreds yo..." Eva furiously screams before being hit in the stomach by a soldier with the end of his rifle. Jäger doesn't react, he simply walks away to one of the vehicles.
 
The major turns around, signaling for the soldiers to ready themselves. Five soldiers stands in a line, reading their rifles. Filled with a sense of panic, Eva jumps in front of Lena, trying her best to provide some form of cover, pleading with the soldiers to think about what they are doing. Erik, horrified by what he sees, tries to rush out, but is stopped by Günner who grabs him and covers his mouth to not let out any noise. Yet, Erik could see everything that was about to happen.
 
"Eva". The wounded woman turns around, faces Lena, who simply looks at her with a small smile. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this." Eva looks at her, mouth half open, her heavy breaths getting lighter with every take.
 
"I'm not", she looks at her and gives her a grin. "I'm glad to have made this journey with you. Lena, thank you". Lena looks at her, the surroundings deafening out, not hearing as the major readies the soldiers and orders a fire.
 
Eva feels a horrifying pain in the chest, falling down to her knees. Her hand covered in a dark-red color, as she tries to feel. She gazes down, her pain disappearing in half a second. Her very first friend. Together they would always march. And now she was alone, but not for long. Determined, Lena stands up straight, looks the major in the eyes and then turns to the soldiers. Ready to get going.
 
The major readies the soldiers again, lifts her arm up. Erik watches trying his best to scream as hard as he can, but Günner's grip forces all his energy from him, and the last thing Erik sees as his sights get blurry is the  gesture by the major signalling the soldiers to fire. Then black. Five gunshots.
 

Municipality of Tyrhem, Davostag – 25 January 5634

Ivar Troelsson just received the mail from the postman. He looks at it as he closes the front door. Addressed to Erik Greger. He thinks to himself, fearing the worst. Wishing to protect her, yet, she deserves to know. He walks upstairs and stands outside Greta Greger's room. He carefully knocks. Ever since Erik left she hasn't spoken nor left the room. He had attempted a few times some days ago, but was pushed out. He attempts yet again. This time nothing. He sees her sitting at the window. He realizes that she must have seen the postman. He walks up to her.
 
"Here. I'm not sure when Erik is coming home, so you take it instead." She doesn't answer just stares out the window. He leaves the mail on her lap and leaves, taking a last look at her before closing the door.
 
Greta picks it up and opens it. Unveils a letter from the Registry Agency, "We are sad to inform you that..." She reads it in silence. "...passed in Tyrhem..." Her eyes empty of emotion, and as she finishes the letter, she continues to look out the window at nothing. A tear flowing down on her cheek. Left only to her thoughts.

Gone. They are all gone.

[Doc]

Ananto Estate, Eveari, April 30, 5634

The Empress arrived to the office and found the Chancellor of the Empire and Her Foreign Minister already there.  The two ministers stood as the Empress arrived and lowered their view as she entered and walked to the comfortable lounge chair next to the cold fireplace in her study.  The Empress had just finished a weekend of planting trees in the Green Mountains, and was still wearing her dirty coveralls and muddy shoes which she didn't take off before she tracked mud all over the hardwood floors.  She kicked the small rug out from in front of the chair so she didn't grind mud into it too, and then  sat down unceremoniously in the chair.  The Chancellor caught the motion just in his peripheral vision, but did not move until he was bade to do so.

"Sit sit, you two," the Empress said.  The Chancellor and the Foreign Minister instantly complied to the brusque, but not rude imperatives of the Empress.  "Now, tell us what the problem is."

"May it please Her Imperial Majesty," began the Foreign Minister, "I'm not quite sure how to put this, but, this Kundrati thing..."

"...Legion thing," the Empress corrected her.

"Er, yes, this Legion thing," the Foreign Minister, Lady Waltrip stammered,  "I am not sure what Her Imperial Majesty is asking of me..."

The Empress sat back in the chair.  "It's quite simply Madame Waltrip.  We need to you to travel to Lucid, talk to a man there, and he will give you the name and description of another person who is waiting for you in Athosia.  You give him the letter the IBSI agent in Lucid gave you, and then you return.  Very simple."

"And Her Imperial Majesty believes he's from the Legion?"  

"We are not certain who he represents," said the Empress.  "He wasn't exactly carrying any papers with him."

"And why does IBSI think he might represent the Legion?" asked Lady Waltrip.

"You'd have to ask them that," the Empress said.  "He could be Legion, he could be a hot dog vendor, we'll find out though soon enough."

"May I ask Her Imperial Majesty how we will know who this individual represents?"

"You are full of questions, Good Lady Waltrip," the Empress answered with a smile.  "Look...  who cares.  Your job is to hand him the letter, that's all.  It's probably a lot better that you don't know too much yourself."

"But surely Her Imperial Majesty is aware," said the Foreign Minister,  "that I'm going to have to answer for this.  People will start asking questions.  What am I supposed to say?  I went into Athosia, handed a letter to some random person, and now we're at war or something?  What is in this letter?" she finally thought to ask.

"Lady Waltrip.  Just hand him the letter.  We shall take care of the rest of it, if we need."

"But Her Imperial Majesty can't just conduct Foreign Relations like this.  There are procedures, precedents, there are our allies we have to think of..."

"Lady Waltrip," interject the Chancellor.  "Please remember your place here."  Lady Waltrip had been Foreign Minister for two Sovereigns, and knew well enough that this admonishment from the Chancellor was the polite reminder for her not to push too hard.  The Empress slung her muddy trouser leg and boot over the other, and rested her hands on the wide arm rests in her chair as she appeared to be reclining.

"Anya, We are asking you to trust us, but if you must know, it is our desire to end the embargo."  Lady Anya felt the breath leave her lungs at the announcement.  She looked directly at the Empress, and then over to the Chancellor.

"End...  Did she say end the embargo?"  The Chancellor grimly nodded.  "Against the Legion, right?"  Chancellor Koenig rolled his eyes.  

"Of course against the Legion," he said matter of factly, as if it was common knowledge.

"But the Deputies will revolt...  They won't sit for this," Lady Anya Waltrip.  "They'll have our heads."

The Empress said "Only if we fail," in a very confident tone.  "If it all falls apart, we just say it was the fascists that blew it up.  But if it succeeds, we can finally get out of Artania once and for all."

Lady Waltrip turned back to the Empress, who looked more like some punk kid than even a 23 year old woman, let alone the Empress.  "Has Her Imperial Majesty talked with other nations?"

The Empress shook her head.  "Nope.  But we have the sense that Kalistan is providing cover for these other nations to sit on the fence with regard to the Embargo.  And as a result, we are the target of convenience, while all these other free riders get cover without paying any of the reputation costs.  Meanwhile, if we can get some concessions out of the Legion, say, getting them to actually admit what we know they are doing, get them to give up their WMDs, and get them to at least try to start negotiations with Etxea, even if they don't work out, we will have accomplished more peacfully than they were able to accomplish with war.  Whatever other nations want, we will get what we want, and that is our first, last and only concern at the end of the day."

"Her Imperial Majesty certainly understands that our friends will be quite angry with us," said Lady Anya.

"If they are going to hate our Empire as they do now, they may as well have a legitimate reason to do so," said the Empress.  During her short reign she had come to grips with the fact that despite the expressed desires of countless Sovereigns to be friendly with other nations, the nations themselves have more or less adopted a 'hot and cold' posture toward Kalistan.  When it benefits them, they care what Kalistan thinks.  When they can get benefits elsewhere, they will go to even Kalistan's rivals without regard to Kalistan's opinion on the matter.  "So, nothing will be different, we suspect either way.  We may as well get something for Kalistan for once."

Lady Waltrip looked back at the Chancellor.  "And you're going along with this Michael?"

The Chancellor of the Empire responded, "It is Her Imperial Majesty's command.  Of course I am going along with it."  Lady Waltrip couldn't believe what she was hearing and sat dumbfounded.

"Lady Anya, do you have reservations about complying with Her Imperial Majesty's fiat," asked the Chancellor at length.  Lady Anya took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled.

"No, No reservations at all."  She paused.  "But you two better know what you are up to, because this is going to cost this Empire either way."

"Lady Anya, you are correct," said the Empress.  "But if we don't show we have any skin in the game, nobody will ever take us seriously on anything.  We'll be just like a half a dozen other countries who are going to complain about how we aren't embargoing them any longer, but haven't done any sanctions or anything like this themselves, except providing cheerleading support.  Hopefully it encourages concessions from the Legion.  Maybe this is the best chance we have to get rid of their WMDs.  Maybe this is the best chance the world has to get them to settle up with Etxea.  Who knows.  But its a gamble, and it is one we are taking."

"And why would Her Imperial Majesty demand the third condition, about coming clean of all the terrible things they are working on?  How does the world benefit from that?"

"Oh," said the Empress.  "That one is just for us, to prove to ourselves that we aren't crazy."  The three sat for a moment, as Lady Anya felt the meaning in that sentence rattle around in her mind.

"Will there be anything else, Your Imperial Majesty?" asked the Chancellor.

The Empress shook her head but didn't say another word.  She nodded to the Chancellor, and he and the Foreign Minister rose, lowered their head and backed away from the Empress.  She sat in her chair for a long time after they left.

[hyraemous]

Somewhere in Etxea... 17 July 5634

Tiberius Claudius Nero was the President of the Kundrati Union from 5612 to 5634. A very long time, around 22 years, but now the Presidency and the government in general was under a new and hopefully stable hands. To escape to another country for a vacation was a dream for Nero, especially after the missile attack and his near death experience.

While he was born in Fort William, there were many within his family who hailed from Peghonai. In terms of that, they had mingled with the Davostag-Kundrati community that resided there. Of course, now that the Legion took over the mainland he couldn't exactly visit Peghonai to see some of his relatives. Yet he could visit Davostag itself.

Davostag was also pretty cold. A relief, after all while Etxea is in the northern hemisphere it can get hot in the summer. It was going to be the middle of summer after all and while Tiberius Claudius Nero loved his island, he'd been subject to it's heat almost nonstop for the last couple of decades. Now that he didn't have that many responsibilities, he could finally take a long vacation.

And thus, he applied for a tourist visa in Davostag and got the necessary approvals. He would stay at least for a month, maybe two if his body told him, but any longer and he'd start to be homesick. He would head to Davostag's major cities and even visit some of his relatives in the countryside. He and his wife and kids even had plans to rent out a nice boat and go touring the islands Davostag has.

That night, he and his family rented a private jet and, after some delays, took off from Jildrati City. Going around Artania via Endralon, they'd head straight for Kivonia.

[Ligbruderkrieg]

10 Crown Street, 22:10 (UTC-8), 12/11/5634

"Fuck my life..." was all that Prime Minister Hall could mutter as she looked at the polls. 34 % of voting intentions, a dip of eight points compared to her last campaign.

"How? Just how? How could all of this happen?", she couldn't draw a clear analysis of her pretty obvious fall from grace, she couldn't come to a reasonable conclusion. How can the people turn on her, her, who gave them hope after 30 years of uninttrupted status quo? Her, who championed democracy and human rights at home and abroad? Her, who...who...God she was turning into a Tory.

"It shouldn't be a surprise that after 5 years of our leadership, people have begun showing signs of weariness about our leadership...Madam? Ma'am? Ma'am?", the dull and then concerned voice of her Chief of Staff brought her back into reality, snapping her away from her thoughts.

"Ah...ah...sorry Martin, please carry on...", fumbling an apology, the most powerful woman in Luthori rubbed her eyes as fatigue slowly but surely took control over her body.

"Sure thing, ma'am. So, while the polls are clearly showing a trend towards the usual incumbency factor, we are likely to be given another mandate by the voters.", the Puppetmaster pulled his strings, attached to his dull and plain voice, talking the woman he helped shape into a politician, trying to make sense of her situation. "Attacked from all sides", he thinks "Like in a game of chess..."

"So, what can we do, then?", her voice resonated through the small room, impatient, demanding for an immediate answer.

"I would say that the Government carry on with the current course that we've chartered during the rest of the term, ma'am. To be fair, it's the sole thing that we can do as the incumbent, as shifting far off our record will only negatively affect us.", he said, Hall's eyes look onto him, his meaningless form waiting to be seduced by the invisible hand, she knew he was crooked, corrupted, rotten to the bone. Yet, he was effective and loyal. Something that she very much needed right now.

"I see. Regardless, it's also likely that the Court decision on the Rodgers case may also negatively impact the Conservative campaign, bringing some much-needed moderate into our fold."

"Yes, it is, ma'am."

"And the Party?"

"As far as we're concerned, the Party remains loyal, as of now. No signs seems to figure out the emergence of a new challenger, even considering your unpopularity within your ranks.", she hated earing time and time again that she was unpopular, it almost seemed like thid goddamn advisors had only this word in their mouth: unpopularity...unpopular...

"Hopefully, there isn't going to be an unforeseen surprise before the election."

"We are hopeful with my team that if there is any challenger at the Labour leadership, it'll come from either an outsider or a backbencher without much influence, both the Senate Majority Leader and House Leader made sure of reassuring their ranks, and by extension our ranks into remaining loyal to the line.", at least someone did their job right, she thought.

Even thought he tried to reassure her, she still wasn't and fearful that her worst dreams would be true...a leadership challenge before the 5635 election, a catastrophic sight for her leadership and tenure as Prime Minister.

"Alright. This ends our meeting, ma'am. If anything comes, you'll be informed."

"Yes, thank you."

As her Chief of Staff left the room, she found herself sleeping upon her desk, completely worn out from hours, days, months or...God...years of constant work, stress and sleepless nights and this was the last straw, but everything had to come to an end, right?

"Madam...we've received news from Alchester, the Minister-President wishes to announce his candidacy for Labour leader, he wants your head, ma'am..."

"Fuck."

[Dredd]

[Legionaria Presidents Office, 0300 Hours]

Lazar was contesting with anger and contentment, for he had two issues infront of him

Kundrati had accomplished the impossible, reproachment with Kalistan. He had thought it impossible yet had by simply revealing the most simplistic of their internal workings and swearing a dismantling of their WMDS gained billions in free aid for their impoverished. The masses were enjoying qualities of life they'd never had before, and they all believed he himself had delivered to them on a silver platter, of course he had gone and destroyed much of it in the chemical and biological departments, but while the missile silos sat empty and derelict the rockets themselves were placed in deep storage ready to be re-activated the moment the time called for them. It would be a juvenile delusion to assume no other nations were not pursuing nuclear programmes of their own, the legion had spent 30 years to accomplish this herculean task set before them, and if the child empress of Kalistan was foolish enough to believe that, then that was his own gain, they would remain ready for action the moment nuclear war was upon them.

Having fulfilled two conditions, the final though having ultimately failed was not disregarded, Kundrati did indeed approach Etxea and offered a far more generous offer than the murderous traitors deserved: Amnesty for all Military former and current, and the choice to emigrate to any country permanently while the legion reestablished control. This olive branch was slapped aside, as the new hawkish scum of the island of dregs refused, and Lazar felt rage boil in him as he regarded their hubris. This pissant state of scum dared to refuse him? He slammed his fist on the table and flicked his cigarette into the trash. Very well, if they wished to defy peace, he'd reap upon them such suffering they'd wish they'd have accepted his generosity. Lazar phoned his command;

"This is comrade colonel Javic of Jildrath defence reporting"

"Colonel Javic, this is Lazar"

"O-Oh, Comrade! Excuse my tone, I had no idea....Did you have need of me sir?" He quaked

"The vile scum of Etxea have defied our will for far too long, we offered them peace as you well know and the satanic negotiator's on their end sought to blackmail us, its time we showed them true Kundrati resolve. Order your rocket batteries of all calibers within range to commence firing the everyday from now on. 0400 hours to 2200 hours, target anything with the living it matters not. We will make them kneel, Glory to Sladek and the Legion."

"G-Glory Sir! It will be done!"

Lazar hung up the phone gritting his teeth

Damned to Luthori and all their puppets, the Legion had all the trade they needed now to dedicate more funding to the army, the economy had already begun recovering to pre war levels, the time when Sladek had raised them to their glorious heights of power, and now it was time to begin the birthing pains of reunification, for the Legion, For the final victory.

[vesica]

delete

[vesica]

Retconned

[myungpartikrasi]

Hotel Himmelblau, Presidential Suite
Doressa, Kozaria, NDH
2 April 5635, 07:54 Darnussian Standard Time

The sunlight still hadn’t broken fully. It hovered in that dim, ambiguous pre-dawn hue—less a glow than a soft promise—seeping through the high lace-draped windows of the presidential suite. The air was still. Laden with expectation.

President Henkjan Dolidze-Naaf stood by the long mahogany desk, the broad map of Artania beneath his fingers, edges fluttering slightly under the weight of two brass paperweights. His eyes traced the frozen northern tip of Dorvik, up to Beidel’s Pass, where the Triadic Republic’s fleet sliced through the strait with a somewhat imperial ease. And just beyond—marked only by his memory—the smoldering ambiguity that was Kundrati, where foreign policy had been as schizophrenic as it was strategic.

Two guards stood like statues at the suite’s double doors, heads stiff and posture ceremonial.

Without looking up, Henk said, “Give us the room.”

They hesitated only a second before bowing and stepping outside, the heavy doors thudding shut behind them with the click of old brass locks.

Then, only the two of them.

Marisa Schletter, the executive secretary of the presidential office, stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, folder in hand. No red bindings, no security classification stamps—just the final draft of the speech. She held it as if handing it over were a betrayal.

“You’re alone now,” she said, placing it on the desk like a gavel. “So be honest with me. Do you really think this speech—even as veiled as it is—won’t provoke a storm?”

Henk slowly opened the folder, eyes scanning lines he had practically memorized. Words of restraint, of ethical awakening. No mention of the Legionnaire, nor of the Union-in-exile, nor even of the words Kundrati, Beiteynu, and Luthori. Everything is framed in abstract appeals: “humane regional equilibrium,” “the dignity of restraint,” “partnerships that elevate rather than exploit.”

“It’s careful,” he said. “Subtle.”

Marisa laughed once—dry and biting.

“Yes, and still enough to make half the Senate think you’ve gone soft. The Defense Ministry will read between every line. The Intelligence Directorate will think you’ve turned coat. And the Luthorians? They’ll read it as an endorsement for their future 'Artanian unity' hegemony. You can’t control how people interpret your morality play.”

He turned to her, his tone sharpening. “Then should I say nothing at all? Let silence speak for our duplicity?”

But she was already advancing, fire in her eyes.

“You already became the fucking Minister-President of Himmelshtein, Henk. A literal Yeudi derelict warzone choking on ashes from literal nuclear war. And you changed it.” Her voice tightened. “You made it livable, investable, governable. In ways your idealistic younger self would’ve called compromising. Maybe even a betrayal.”

She came closer now, gesturing with clipped anger. “But what did the outside world say? Despite skepticism about your sudden appointment—as a Triad outsider, an import—they still called you the catalyst of the Himmelshtein economic miracle. And why? Because you embodied the very pragmatism this Republic has thrived on since Thallers' monarchy was deposed.”

Henk didn’t answer immediately. His eyes dropped to the last page of the speech, fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

“I-I’m not ashamed... of what I-i-i did in Himmelshtein,” he stuttered, softly.

“But you think this is some higher plane,” she interrupted. “That now is the time to redeem yourself. That if you say the right words in the right room, this machine of ours will somehow grow a conscience. Let me remind you, Henk: for now, our foreign policy is predicated on the stability of our interests. Not yet will the purity of our guilt be the guide, not today.”

He stared out the window again. Doressa’s skyline emerged slowly in the distance—the Ansar Hills silhouetted against the bruised morning sky. A gull screamed faintly in the distance.

“What if stability without ethics isn’t stability at all?” he said. “What if it’s just inertia dressed in statecraft?”

Marisa said nothing for a moment. Her chest rose slowly, her gaze cooling.

“I don’t disagree with you,” she said finally. “But understand this: however careful your words are, however abstract, you will provoke a reaction. Not loud. Not immediate. But something unmeasured. Uncertain. And once it begins, you won’t control where it lands.”

She turned and moved toward the door. Then paused, resting her hand on the brass handle.

“The ballroom’s waiting,” she said over her shoulder. “The Von Vilingen rules protect you for now. But even the most sacred confidences eventually leak.”

She looked back, eyes steel again.

“Step carefully, Mr. President. The world is listening—whether we say the K-word or not.”

CONFIDENTIAL
Office of the President
Triadic Republic of Narikaton, Darnussia, and Himmelshtein

Remarks prepared for delivery to the 10th Assembly of the Friends of the National Institute of International Affairs (Von Vilingen House)
President Henkjan Alexander Dolidze‑Naaf
2 April 5635 – Hotel Himmelblau, Doressa, Kozaria

---

Distinguished colleagues, honored delegates, friends of the Institute—Thank you.

To speak in this room—under the protections of the Von Vilingen House—is to enter a rare kind of space in our world: one where ambiguity is not a liability, but a method. One where things can be said with the quiet understanding that they matter not because they are loud, but because they are listened to.

Let me begin with a reflection. Many a generation ago, the Dual and—eventually—the Triadic Republic rose and remained to global prominence through a deliberate philosophy of external affairs. We were deliberate, strategic, often reticent—but never idle. In those years, we honed a foreign posture premised on what was often called precision neutrality: engaging not to entangle, but to balance; to preserve our core interests by remaining just far enough from the heart of any firestorm to avoid being consumed.

But time, as ever, complicates. And what begins as calibration can become contradiction. We find ourselves, today, implicated in many theaters—some distant, some far too close. And in too many of these, we have played both harp and hammer. We have promised peace while sustaining the means for its postponement.

Some bragged a term for this: diplomatischer Pluralismus. Another, less flattering one, might be strategic indifference.

I do not come here to condemn the past. I have been shaped by it—as many of you have. I have occupied desks where the only maps that mattered were trade routes and capital flows. I have read cables late at night with language designed to be read twice and understood once. I have—at times—defended decisions that I now revisit in private silence.

But this is not penance. This is responsibility.

Today, Terra is not merely unstable. It is increasingly conditioned by our responses to instability. We are not just reacting to conflict. We are defining the terms of what counts as peace.

And I fear those terms have grown thin.

What I propose is not a pivot, nor a doctrine. I offer instead a disposition—an outlook—one I call humane regional equilibrium.

This is not idealism. This is realism with a conscience.

We cannot extricate ourselves from the region. Nor should we. But we must ask: what do we want our presence to mean? Is it deterrence, or dependence? Is it partnership, or performance?

Humane regional equilibrium begins with the premise that influence without responsibility becomes indistinguishable from interference. It suggests that security, to be enduring, must be legitimate—and that legitimacy cannot be bought, only earned.

It urges that we be steady in principle, not just posture.

It recognizes that the lives impacted by our decisions are not abstractions. And that when a family flees its home, when a ceasefire frays, when supply lines stretch into siege lines—those events do not occur despite us. They occur with us.

We must not act out of guilt. But neither should we act without conscience.

The Triadic Republic has always prided itself on being a stabilizing force. But stability is not a blank check. It is not peace if it cannot hold under the weight of truth.

Let us therefore be difficult to provoke, but impossible to misread.

Let our ambition be not to dominate, but to outlast—through principled presence and moral clarity.

I thank you—for your patience, your candor, and your willingness to listen beneath the noise.

Let us proceed.

---

A certified true copy;

Affirmed by:

(sgd.)
Marisa Schletter
Chief Presidential Secretary

Dated 02 April 5635

[Doc]

Imperial Seat, Kaliburg, 2:30pm

The Chancellor put his papers together.  "Alright, that concludes the Science discussion.  Thank you Mr. Lincoln.  And next on our agenda is Lady Waltrip.  Foreign Policy..."

Lady Waltrip looked at her papers.  "We are looking at sending Her Imperial Majesty to Hutori.  She would like a personal visit with the King and Queen of Hutori.  We may have some business there, but the visit would primarily social and personal.  We are thinking of arranging it for early fall.  Uh...  Naval Exercises, Captain Buenaventure went over the military side.  We are still working toward starting the Frigate program and KalMilInCo is still in communication.  The Empire is calm and all is staying on course.  Likatonia remains inert, and shows no sign of returning to the Legion's orbit.  Athosia and Baltusia remain inert.  We are proposing cultural exchange with Xsampa.  And we are keeping an eye on developments in Indrala.  Dovani is quiet."

The ministers nodded along, but they were really waiting for updates from two countries specifically.  "First to Egelion.  They are beginning an investigation to the bombing.  Lady Nicole seems to have been injured, and she was treated in their medical facility.  Her son Prince Artemio was also wounded, but likewise has been treated for his injuries.  Both appear to be ok.  We have offered IBSI resources to assist with the investigation but more importantly, to help them set up their own state intelligence agency."

"What is your read on whether they will accept the offer, Lady Waltrip?" asked Director Simmons, from the IBSI.

"I'd say there is less than a 50-50 chance that they will accept the offer," answered Lady Waltrip.  "They didn't ask for it.  We always try to be helpful with our neighbors, but I suspect there is a bit of hesitation to ever accept things we offer.  We have the offer on the table, that's really all we can do."

"Is there any indication of Legion involvement?" asked Chancellor Koenig.

"We have no evidence of that," said Lady Waltrip.  "They lack internal cohesion to the degree that they have no operational capacity this far east.  They may be able to sneak a few dozen of their so-called super soldiers, which are really just tall guys who work out a little bit more than average, into Etxea, but I would be very surprised if they ever accomplished anything on this level of sophistication so far from home."

"And what of the sanctions regime?" asked the Chancellor.

"Well," Waltrip said with an exasperated sigh...  "They have met Her Imperial Majesty's conditions, technically."  

"Lady Waltrip, how do you mean?"

"The Legion is kind of a letter of the law kind of group, not a spirit of the law.  We know this:  its all they have ever been.  They aren't committed to peace, as Her Imperial Majesty is.  They remain committed to death.  That hasn't changed at all.  But they did technically, and extremely unenthusiastically, met the barest possible minimum requirements for the ending of the embargo.  So we have ended it."

"I see," said Koenig.  "Is there any indication that Her Imperial Majesty may have us reinstitute those sanctions?"

"There is zero chance of that, Sir Koenig." said Lady Waltrip.  "Ending Anantonese Involvement in that hellhole known as Artania is Her Imperial Majesty's priority.  She wants nothing to do with that rotten country anymore.  They are currently and stupidly bombing Etxea now, so Her Imperial Majesty has decided that she will likely never visit.  The Legion are exactly the monsters we always knew they were."

"How will this affect the humanitarian aid?" asked Minister Brennan, of Food and Ag.

"There is a final shipment headed to Davostag," said Waltrip.  "It will probably be the last one, given the dramtically worsened security situation in that part of the world.  The shipment is nearly in port, and that will bring our total humanitarian assistance to about 2.3 Billion, and then an additional 93 Million to Davostag for administration of the fund.  But Her Imperial Majesty can't justify helping a nation who decided to return to war.  It makes us look bad:  She's out and hopefully now that their people have gotten a taste of real food, maybe they will demand it from their government, which will reduce their resources for bombs and munitions."

"Anya, just so we are clear, the Empire did not send them any direct monetary aid, is this correct?" asked Director Simmons.

"That is correct Director," answered Waltrip.  "We did not send a single Imperial Ruble to the Legion.  It was all surplus medical supplies from ODEN and trade credits to Davostag to purchase food which are redeemable with recipts, of course."

"Was any of that aid fungible?" asked Koenig.

"Well, Chancellor, in so much that not having to pay any money for food for a while allows the Legion to put money into bombs, sure.  But our reports show that they weren't spending much on food or medicine for their people anyway:  They were feeding dead corpses back to their people without their people knowing it.  So its not like they had to buy that meat on the world market.  This had a negligible impact on their budget.  But perhaps now more people will demand these things from them, and it might lead to destabilization of the Legion when we cut it off.  Especially if they insist on prosecuting this inane and infantile war."

"I should say, I was opposed to offering aid to the Legion in the first place," said Director Simmons.  "They are currently claiming credit for everything."

"They claim credit for everything anyway, Director," said Waltrip.  "Have you ever known that guy to tell the truth?  He's so slimy I had to soak my hand in bleach after I shook his hand.  He's the scummiest piece of s--t I have ever had to sit in a room with."

"Then why did you agree to the deal, Anya?" asked Simmons.

"Because we told her to," said a familiar voice from near the door.  The Ministers all turned toward the very familiar voice, and without even thinking rose to their feet and stood staring silently and looking at the table.  Nobody saw her or heard her enter the room, or take a seat in the corner of the Cabinet room, and nobody was sure just how much of the Cabinet meeting she had heard.  "Please take your seats.  You people never get tired of questioning our fiat, but we assure you, our interests are met by that deal, whatever your opinion on it is.  Lady Waltrip did her duty, and that is all you need to know.  Do you seriously believe she would have done that if she had not been commanded to do so by ourselves?"

When the Empress had finished speaking, the Ministers returned to their seats.  "So Please Her Imperial Majesty, we had no idea she had arrived," said Director Simmons to the Chancellor.

"Are we not permitted to attend the meetings of our own government?" asked the Empress, rhetorically.

"Of course Her Imperial Majesty may..." the IBSI Director was cut off.

"We did not require a response, Director.  But thank you for your permission."  The Empress turned to her Foreign Minister.  "Lady Waltrip," she emphasized, to remind the IBSI Director that the Foreign Minister, as a member of the Peerage, was also entitled to being referred to formally, "you may continue, please."

"As I was about to say, Her Imperial Majesty prefers things as they are because it is in her interest to not have anything to do with the Legion or with most of Artania any more.  This was a buy out more than anything.  We aren't even really sure they have fully dismantled their WMDs:  We have no independent verification.  Additionally, we do have documents:  We were planning to hold on to those, but I am advising that we release them in total, so people can see what they are up to.  We don't believe its everything--Lazar is a liar, and nobody was under the impression otherwise.  And yeah, he made an offer.  The offer was apparently amnesty in exchange for Etxea rejoining the Legion lock stock and barrel.  It was a deal Etxea couldn't possibly accept, and I believe that was Lazar's goal all along.  He seems to believe he doesn't have to negotiate anything with Etxea.  But he never intended to actually seek peace that wasn't absolutely on his terms.  He always intended to meet the letter of the requirement, but not the spirit.  Her Imperial Majesty wanted out of the conflict though, so the 2.4 was a small price to pay."

The Ministers, keenly aware that they were now being observed, said nothing for a moment.  Chancellor Koenig finally broke the silence.  "Thank you for your report, Lady Waltrip.  And next up, Dr. Zearing with Tourism."