Emperor's New Clothes

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 1
The Sanctum of Laurels, Angliarique Empire

Bang! Bang! Bang!
The vast and black iron doors of the Foreign Affairs Cabinet Room were knocked upon. A meeting was still in session, so who could it be? The bureaucrats in the room looked on at the door with their eyes wide open, sitting on the head of the ivory table, Exterior Governor Lady Pembroke shouted, “Who is making that noise?!”
The room grew silent. A few moments later, the large doors swung open and the feeling of passing breeze followed. A man of tall figure in elegant fashion walked in, accompanied by a lowly official who exclaimed, “His majesty the emperor who so greatly graces us with his presence!”

So sudden it was, that every bureaucrat and official sitting by the long ivory table, fell immediately to their knees. They declared in unison, “Your Majesty! Long live! Long live!”
Emperor Angliareich walked serenely past his servile officials who kept kneeling, some even bowed their heads to the splintery wooden floor below. The emperor kept walking round and round his subjects, he walked a total of fifteen times around before he finally spoke, “At ease! Am I having dogs for bureaucrats?! Why’s everyone on the floor?! God save me!”

Hearing the emperor’s anger frightened the room into further submission. The officials got back to their seats and awaited their boss’s command. Lady Pembroke offered her seat to the emperor, which he gladly took. Emperor Angliareich to the bewilderment of all present, expressed for all to leave the room except for Lady Pembroke. The governor was also stunned. Without wasting any time, the officials exited the room walking backwards to show their respect for the emperor as they did. As the officials left, another man entered, he was Lord Henry the Interior Governor. It was apparent that a vital meeting was taking place.

The doors behind Lord Henry closed. And the three-person meeting started.

Angliareich: I have thought of a solution to the Spascirian problem.

Henry & Pembroke: Enlighten us, your majesty.

Angliareich: Hear me out... We give them a special state.

Henry & Pembroke: What?!

Angliareich: No no look… The Spascirians have always wanted their own little homeland with their own silly rules. If we give it to them say under some kind of agreement creating a new territory FAR AWAY, they would be appeased and we will no longer be troubled! Of course, how this should be done is an entirely different story. But the benefits are immense, think of the headlines! We would be saints of freedom and justice!

Pembroke: Sorry to interrupt, but your majesty, have you considered the backlash we'll get from the staunch royalists. Nationalists like George Hubble will shun us in the national press. They might even rebel! I urge your majesty to reconsider. Please.

Angliareich: I understand your concern. But shouldn’t you at least support me? Am I not your emperor?

Pembroke: Forgive me your majesty. That is not what I meant. I see merits in the plan, but we should think this through.

Henry: Pembroke, perhaps you’d like a moment to cooldown? Why don’t you take a stroll outside?

Lady Pembroke leaves the room for a walk.

Angliareich: Henry! Quickly! Let me tell you something.

Henry: What is it your majesty?

Angliareich: I want you to find VichyCha.

Henry: The Spascirian terrorist leader?!

Angliareich: Yes. Bring him to the Cabal of Saints, alive, through to the secret club lounge. I’ll be waiting there, tell Pembroke none of this! I will solve things my way!​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 2
The Cabal of Saints, Angliarique Catholic Church

The faithful believers and followers of Catholicism were shuffling in and out of the busy church, where the bishop was all too busy giving his sermon. “And Saint Angliareich witnessed the matrimony of man and wine, and said unto the blessed faithful, drinks are on me! And the crowd did cheer for the Saint’s preaching.”

However, underneath the church unbeknownst to those who weren’t aristocrats, in a secretive lair where criminals and royalty met to be merry and have fun, the true Cabal of Saints convened. A rare sight was Emperor Angliareich, who seldom ever frequented the place, licking his ice-cream by the bar and waiting patiently for the arrival of Lord Henry. A few hours passed and still no sign of Lord Henry, the emperor became impatient. He already had sixteen large scoops of mint-chocolate ice-cream, but where was Lord Henry? Just as the emperor ordered for another helping of desert, Lord Henry entered into view, shoving his face in front of Angliareich, frightening the emperor who fell over and onto the floor.

Henry: Laughs Oh my! How have you been?

Angliareich: Lord Almighty! Laughs You think this is a joke?! My goodness!

Henry: Relax! I have him.

Angliareich: You do? Don’t lie! Smirks

Henry: I’ve chained him to a club chair in the private lounge. Shall we head there?

Angliareich: Let me finish this ice-cream first. It’s slaying! Want some? Laughs

The emperor devoured his seventeenth scoop and followed Lord Henry to the private lounge. The gentlemen entered the luxuriously decorated room. There were walls made of the whitest pearls and white flooring built from elephant ivory but the duo wasn’t there to admire the furnishings of the room. They were there for a bigger, higher purpose.
Shackled to a white leather club chair, a dishevelled man dressed in ragged clothing with a brown sack over his head, came into the view of the emperor.

Angliareich: Mr VichyCha!

VichyCha: I know that voice! Free me! Save me! Please! Please! Desperate Wailing

Angliareich: Shut up! Ok?! Let me be frank. I’m willing to make you a puppet president of a Spascirian state. I want you to mount a political comeback, you will have my tacit support but no one besides us should ever be privy to it. Do we have a deal?

VichyCha: You are asking me to deal with the devil?! I object to it! I’ll NEVER betray my people!

Angliareich: Perhaps, you need some convincing. Henry? Could you pass me that golf club over there by the table?

VichyCha: Wait! Please! Wailing I’ll think about it! Crying

Angliareich: Time’s ticking VichyCha! Are you a puppet or... a golf ball? Laughs​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 3
The Cabal of Saints, Angliarique Catholic Church

VichyCha: KILL ME!! I don’t care! I’ll never be a traitor, you son of a b-

Suddenly, a huge whack to VichyCha’s skull was dealt. And then another whack, followed by a third one and another and on and on. A full thirty minutes had passed and the white ivory floors of the lounge had turned to a reddish hue. The violent ordeal was finally over as he lay on the floor gasping intensely. Emperor Angliareich had removed the sack which shielded VichyCha’s face, and he whispered eerily into VichyCha’s bloodied ear.

Angliareich: Now listen… I’ll give you a final chance… be my puppet and gain your freedom. I will help you… Do you dare?

VichyCha: Gasp I- I Gasp I- I- I dare…

VichyCha then blacked out. The torture was too much for him, even for a hardened terrorist.

The morning after, VichyCha awoke unchained to anything, he was finally free! Or so he thought. His head was perfectly wrapped in fresh bandages, someone had treated him. As he crawled desperately to prop himself up against a chair, Emperor Angliareich and Lord Henry looked on from behind. The emperor let out a soft laugh, and called out to him.

Angliareich: The president is awake! My! My!

Henry: VichyCha! Get yourself over here!

VichyCha crawled towards the duo, up onto a chair and sat down with them. The planning of liberating the Spascirians began.

Angliareich: This is the plan. You, VichyCha… will join the Spascirian Nationalist Front or the SNF for brevity’s sake! Then I will aid your climb to the top of the party, after which we will kill Mr Harriah Dupont the party chairman, and install you as the new leader. You will then lead a mock revolution against me, after which, I will publicly announce the formation of a semi-autonomous state for Spascirians. And install you as President there. How does that sound? Nice?

VichyCha: I understand… But the Interior Army is hunting me down, how am I supposed to go public? They’ll kill me with no mercy! And how will I climb my way up? What if Harriah dislikes me?

Angliareich: Are you dumb? As emperor, I control the Interior Army. I have announced publicly last night, that the charges of treason against you have been dropped due to insufficient evidence. Sweet, isn’t it? As for Harriah's perception of you, I’ll handle it personally.

Henry: Exactly! All you have to do, VichyCha, is to climb the ladder and BOOM! You become… President! That is of course, if you’ll heed our advice. We have tried for decades to install a Spascirian puppet state, but to no avail, no one ever listened and many people died.

Angliareich: You heard that VichyCha? Many people died…

VichyCha: I understand what you mean. Fine then! I promise to heed your advice!

Angliareich: I prefer action you know? Action!

The meeting ended with a promising note. The emperor and Lord Henry were happy, and VichyCha was relieved.​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 4
Unstaged SNF Protests in Darkford

Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah! Freedom of our times! Our freedom now!

The chants of the Spascirian Nationalist Front rang throughout the coal-dusted streets of Darkford city, through the smog pumped out from nearby factories, one could get a glimpse of the protesters marching in black clothing with red iron rods. Observing the march from afar, the Darkford regiment of the Unified Force stood, ready as ever to put down the protest.

Suddenly, a soldier shouted, “Over there! Behind the tree!” This lucky soldier was the first to spot VichyCha. The regiment was flabbergasted. He appeared to shuffling through the crowd right up front to lead the march.

“What do we want?! Freedom! Independence! Liberty!” VichyCha shouted. The regiment stood their ground as the protesters were beginning to close in on them. The regiment’s general signalled for rubber bullets to be fired.

Bang! Bang Bang Bang! Bang Bang!

A total of six shots were fired into the crowd, which was now provoked to violence. It was not enough to suppress them; the general fired a live bullet killing a protester. This was his signal for the regiment to turn to live arms. Ready to brave the assault, they poised in formation aiming at the protesters, a final warning was given, “Cease now! Or be ceased!”

But VichyCha and the other protestors marched on relentlessly until they reached a red line marked by the regiment implying that one more step, would mean crossing the Rubicon. It was millimetres before that red line, that they stopped their advance. The general took it that the group wanted to stay peaceful, so he gave them a chance to surrender, “Under the sedition laws, protests against the wishes of His Majesty the Emperor, are strictly forbidden! Cross the red line bearing no arms of any sort by crawling, and we shall consider releasing all of you on bail.”

One by one the protesters crawled towards the regiment, to the scornful laughter of soldiers. Soon, it was only VichyCha that was left, he seemed adamant at staying. The general shouted at him, “What are you waiting for?! My men to carry you?!” VichyCha nodded. The general told six soldiers to carry VichyCha over.

As the men carried him over, the general whispered to him, “You have committed a serious crime disobeying me like this, but His Majesty has given orders to punish you lightly, I don’t know why...” The general squinted his eyes, eyeing VichyCha suspiciously.

That morning, news of VichyCha’s emergence spread like wildfire. Even Angliarique nationalist radio host George Hubble told listeners, “What in the world is going on?! First, the Interior Army stops chasing VichyCha and now he’s marching on streets! God save us!” The march had proven VichyCha’s worth to the SNF* chairman, Mr Harriah Dupont. And some time later in the afternoon when press circles fought their way into the SNF party headquarters in Darkford, Mr Harriah publicly declared VichyCha as a member of the SNF Presidium.

*SNF: Spascirian Nationalist Front. A major unregistered political party formed by Spascirians freed under the government's social reforms. Most free Spascirians are members of the SNF. They advocate for the creation of an independent Spascirian state, and the release of Spascirian prisoners locked up in Carpathia's hellish prison system.

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 5
SNF Presidium Election in Darkford City

Following the arrest of Mr Harriah Dupont, the seat of chairman of the SNF was left vacant. So, a secret assembly was held between senior members of the SNF’s Presidium. In came the members, through the dark wooden doors that led to meeting’s venue. There they sat, a total of 12 presidium officers. 6 on either side of a long table. A stout man then hastily unveiled a letter and read it, “Presidium Agenda, number one hundred and thirteen. Election of Chairman, upon vacancy caused by forceful removal.” The man was VichyCha.

VichyCha: "Presidium officers, we are gathered here today, for one sole purpose, and that is to ensure the continuity of Mr Dupont’s struggles for the freedom and well-being of all Spascirian peoples. This purpose enshrined in the party’s constitution reveals a deeper meaning, it is through this idea that we must now elect a leader befitting of charging righteously against the injustice perpetrated against our people, by all Angliarisians. I will now reveal the nominees for the office of chairman of the presidium of the Spascirian Nationalist Front.

Ms Cynthia Cardhouse, the honourable treasurer. Mr Lupin Dupont, the honourable vice-chairman. Mr VichyCha Aldewaiss, the honourable party-protector. These are among three thousand names submitted for nomination from the recruitment office, selected after careful deliberation by presidium officers, in keeping with the proper guidelines of nomination provided by the party’s constitution. I now yield the floor to our honourable vice-chairman, to initiate the electoral process."

Lupin: "Thank you. Officers of the Presidium, Under the spirit of a Spascirian liberation, I initiate the proceedings for the election of a new chairman."

*Lupin signs a document starting the process*

Lupin: "Officers will cast their votes. Through a secret ballot, these votes shall be cast. Cast shall be these votes, not more than once. After this process, as instructed by the constitution, a votes shall be verified by the treasurer, and then revealed by the vice-chairman, that means me, to all present for the election. A chairman shall be elected if he or she gains 75% of the vote, that will be… about 9 votes!"

2 hours passed, and the voting had ceased. It took far longer than expected for the officers to make up their minds. There were three strong contenders vying for the position, but only one could make it on top. Lupin Dupont, the vice-chairman, revealed the votes.

Lupin: "For Ms Cynthia Cardhouse, 2 votes in favour. For Mr Lupin Dupont, 1 vote in favour. For Mr VichyCha Aldewaiss, 9 votes in favour. Mr VichyCha has secured the chairmanship of the Spascirian Nationalist Front. Congratulations, Mr Chairman!"

*SNF: Spascirian Nationalist Front. A major unregistered political party formed by Spascirians freed under the government's social reforms. Most free Spascirians are members of the SNF. They advocate for the creation of an independent Spascirian state, and the release of Spascirian prisoners locked up in Carpathia's hellish prison system. ​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 6
SNF-SLC Takeover

On Wednesday, a contingent of four senior auditors led by the Director for the Office of Economic Affairs (OEA) entered the exclusive Sptizan Hotel in Darkford City. They were there to negotiate the handover of the Spascirian Labour Council (SLC) to the Spascirian Nationalist Front (SNF).

In a conference room labelled 'Meeting Room 5' the parties gathered. On the left of a long mahogany table, sat VichyCha in his capacity as the SNF's President for that day. And on the right, sat the OEA's Contingent. The men began the first round of negotiations with the SNF being outnumbered five to one by representation.

Director: We're here today at a critical juncture, with the possibility of a rebellion never before seen since the failed revolution of the Spascirian tribes centuries ago, bearing upon us. All because of the mismanagement of one state enterprise. Today, I give you, Mr Aldewaiss, a chance to stop that.

VichyCha: Alright, stop the chatter Mr Piggy Bank, you are in an unfavorable dare I say horrific position. The eyes of all Spascirians are watching this moment, rare speck at a chance for freedom. I have no terms, and neither should you. Handover it over without bargain, and may peace be with you.

Director: Of course, we would like to see a prosperous Spascirian business, the same as for any enterprise. But, we have concerns that at present, there're various challenges which hinder our disposal of the SLC. For example, the chance of an uprising even after the agreement is reached. Mr VichyCha, the SLC still holds considerable profitability, if you know what I mean. My friends next to me would like a share of that pie. A humble slice one should say.

VichyCha: I dare not ask what this would entail. The SLC is a company built on the backs of Spascirians for the good of the Spascirian people. And now, you are suggesting that we become somekind of tributary vassal company for your benefit. You have stated publicly, that this handover will be done with the humanitarian spirit, now you go back on your word! Hand it over or face us on the streets!

Director: The Spascirian People? People? You are below that! All of you! We grant you civil rights, freedoms beyond the imagination of your ancestors, and this is how you repay us!! Be wary, Mr VichyCha. Be wary!

Director Storms Out

VichyCha: This is ridiculous!

The exit of the director marked the end of the first round of negotiations, some affair that VichyCha was definitely not keen about. For him, the director's suggestion of bribery was all too offensive. But, nonetheless he had to give in, some time now or later. Without the SLC, the SNF would be relegated to minor role in the political arena. It needed the money, it needed the people.

A full 4 hours after the unfortunte start, the contingent of auditors somehow encouraged the director to resume for a second round. But, this time around the director had a different tone.

Director: President VichyCha, we apologise for the outburst. The views I expressed, don't represent the common people. It was personal. Shall we get on?

VichyCha: President.... ? Anyways, very well, but I want you to know that both our sides shouldn't have conditions. Handover the SLC to the SNF, no questions asked.

Director: Okay, if that's what you want. Sign here please, and here. We are agreed.​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 7
Port Stupor
08:00 Hours

A major port of trade for Angliarique, Port Stupor is home to a population of 500,000 civilians. It is notable for the fact, that for the past 300 years of its existence, it has been governed by a minor noble family without the need to resort to violent military crackdowns or other severe methods in response to its local Spascirian population and their weekly independence demonstrations. Violent crackdowns which were often the case for rulers in the Royal Islands of Angliarique.

But today, the situation seemed different. A rally for independence and equal treatment with regard to public services, involving some 50,000 Spascirians was being held by the local Spascirian Nationalist Front branch of Port Stupor, under the leadership and witness of President VichyCha Aldewaiss. Though the rally initially began with the typically peaceful start, it soon turned shockingly violent.

The calls of “Peace, Independence, Liberty. Had turned to, Death to Angliarique, Freedom Now!” The local authority was in essence, non-existent, for such military presence was never needed in this ever tolerant part of Angliarique. Observing the boiling situation, the aristocratic government of Port Stupor led by former Chancellor Alecy Briutine was now fearful that horrible events might soon follow.

In a frightful hurry, Briutine penned down an electronic letter to the Darkford Security Bureau, Angliarique’s intelligence agency. The letter read:

Dear Generals of the DSB, and Lord Henry,

10 minutes ago, since I started writing this letter, a large Spascirian crowd of approximately 40,000 to 60,000 participants mostly Spascirian thugs. Began, to incite worrisome and dangerous threats directed against my administration and myself personally. They have also begun chanting slogans detrimental to the rare tolerance the Angliarisians of Port Stupor and myself, have for the Spascirian populus here.

Thus, not wishing for a full-scale besiegement of my palace and my government, nor hoping in God Will’s that a revolution might come. I call for the immediate deployment of Interior Army forces to Port Stupor. I shall leave it to the discretion of Lord Henry to decide the appropriate units to deploy for the protection of local security. But, I must stress that this occurrence may very well spillover to your side, and be revived as a national security threat again. The possibility of another revolution never seemed so true, until now.

Sincerely,
Alecy Briutine, 3rd Earl Briutine
The Royal House of Briutine​

Needless to be said, the letter had reached the attention of Lord Henry and his generals in less than a time it took to boil an egg. The reply was quick too. Lord Henry gave instructions to his generals, in a letter that read:

My Lord Earl Briutine,

Your request has been received and evaluted with the uttermost urgency. Noting the large unruly crowds, and noting your emphasis on the possibility of a local uprising in Port Stupor. I have ordered for the deployment of an infantry corps of 20,000 men mobilised from the reserved force of the Carpathian Regiment, to be supported by 150 tanks transported by an alternating relay of 5 heavy transport helicopters, all which are to be under the command of Lieutenant General Seraphina Bolte. I request that your lordship works cooperatively with Madam Bolte, for the orderly function of the mission ‘Operation Visitor’ and in God Will’s, a decisive return to peace.

Forever at the empire’s service,
Lord Henry
Interior Governor & Crown Commander

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 8
Valerian Bunker, 7,000 ft below sea level
21:00 Hours

Emperor: Hello? Can you… hear me? Henry?

Henry: Hello, yes.

Emperor: What is going on?! VichyCha has gone rogue. He has broken his oath to us, betrayed our trust. He must be stopped. Kill him if you must, or capture him. I want him out, gone! As we speak, the rabid Spascirians are trying to oust that poor Earl in Port Stupor! Dear god! The Spascirians, we have done so much for them, I have sacrificed myself in the court of public opinion, fought against my own people for their sake. This is how they repay me! I am disgusted, frankly I tell you, disgusted!

Henry: I share your concern; they must be stopped. But, what of the envisioned state of Little Spasciria? The only leader capable of uniting the Spascirians, is tragically, VichyCha Aldewaiss. If we strike against him now, there won’t be a riot, there’ll be revolution! God help us! But perhaps, I can help in this. We give VichyCha an ultimatum: Heed us or Die. He’ll surely choose to live, then we’ll be able to place him as our pawn in that god forsaken state, at the same time, appeasing the Spascirian people. Heck, at that rate we could get rid of the Spascirians in Carpathia too!

Emperor: What if this peace offering doesn’t work, what then? If it so happens, that we come to a revolution. What will happen to me, to us? I have deep fears, Henry. You must do something to stop this madness.

Henry: Perhaps, it is time to be honest. Truthful about this plan. If we are able to forge unity between both the races, peace can be achieved. Concessions must be made, and quickly. The Spascirians will seek their own state if we do nothing. If we cause offense to them, they’ll do as they have always been doing, finding for a new friend. With the help of foreign powers, even with our enemies, they’ll seek to destroy us! They have been wanting that for a long, long time.

Emperor: I understand. This will be it then. See to it that this horror never confronts us again. I trust you, Henry.

Returning the phone back onto a table that was next to him, Emperor Angliareich saw visions beyond even his own comprehension, greyish ghostly figures of long dead Spascirian tribesmen ran up and down the poorly lit halls of the bunker. His hand quivered as reached for a cup of cold coffee, unable to have a proper grasp of the cup, he lost his temper and flung it with the back of his hand, shattering it against the dullish concrete wall to his side. The noise of glass shattering into a thousand pieces, attracted the attention of his many butlers who had come with him to serve his needs in the bunker.

One butler asked with a tone of concern, whilst at the same time gesturing for his colleagues to clean up the mess, “Your majesty, is everything alright? Shall I send for the physicians?” The reply from the Emperor was imbued with a sense of anxiety and unreason, “Everything! Everything is fine, perfectly well! But, do you see the man next to you? His eyes no more. Or that one on the right with blood pouring out of each of his orifices? I’ve done no wrong. I’ve done no wrong, why are they staring at me? Go away!” As the Emperor finished his delirious episode, he collapsed his head upon his left shoulder. Frightened as anyone would be under these circumstances, the butler screamed and cried for help, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Is everything fine? Speak to me!”

The Emperor’s butlers were in frantic panic, they called for help from the imperial physicians. And help did come. For now, all the butlers could do was pray that their master would come through. In his bedchambers, the emperor slept with laboured breath. By his side, the physicians were busy informing Prince Haglia who had made an urgent trip from his bath upon hearing the news of his father’s situation.

The leading physician said, “Your Grace, we have done all that we could possibly do. Forgive me for my frankness, but it appears that His Majesty has been skipping his medication, that I gave for the treatment of his manic episodes. With the evidence we have on hand, the mania has somehow developed into schizophrenia as witnessed by the butlers. This is an illness of the mind, which threatens to overpower His Majesty’s will to live.” Prince Haglia replied, “Do you mean to say, he’s not going to make it? Is that right?” The physician answered back with a serious tone in his voice, “It remains to be seen. Nothing can save your father, but the will of his own. Goodnight, your grace.”

The physicians left, leaving the Emperor and Haglia together alone in the room, where the following eery words of the son to the father were left unheard.

Spascirian Liberation Part 8(a)
Briutine Palace, Port Stupor
23:00 Hours

Down with the Cabal! Down with Briutine! Down with Angliarique!
Freedom! Now! Now! Now!

The chants of the Spascirian mob that had begun a mass effort to besiege the Palace of Briutine -residence of the Earl of Port Stupor- pierced the quiet night. It was clear to Lieutenant General Seraphina Bolte and her corps of 20,000 infantrymen, backed up by the firepower of 150 tanks, the true desires of the Spascirians were not peaceful assimilation into the Angliarisian culture, but complete liberation.

Paranoid of what might come from this daunting time, Earl Briutine summoned Bolte to his private library. A spacious room brimmed with books on all insights from every civilisation that ever came to be. The Earl sought assurance from Bolte, that perhaps they would be fine, fortunate to live another day. Bolte gave her word to the Earl, that if harm would happen, that he would not suffer it. But, this assurance could not come at a worser time, for the Spascirian mob had begun pelting the Palace’s ornately stained-glass windows with all sorts of litter picked up from the streets. From paranoia to panic, the Earl threw himself onto the floor, in frantic prayer to God for the guarantee of his safety and his life. “Do something Ms Bolte! Do anything!” The Earl pleaded as he began weeping in a helpless crawl over the wooden floors. “We will, your lordship. Please excuse me, I will carry out your wishes.” Bolte whispered as she knelt down to give the Earl a sense of hope.

Seraphina Bolte relaxed her mind for the intense meeting that was to come. A meeting that would decide the fate of thousands.
In a rather awful and incomplete makeshift war room, Bolte gathered her advisers, as well as the Earl who thought a meeting would give him comfort. It was in this room, that they decided over a desk stacked to the sky with plans, to war against the Spascirian mob. Through a rotary telephone Bolte gave the orders to a colonel under her command to execute the plan, “We have decided to go to war. The Spascirians are committing grave treason, they must be stopped. I authorise you to execute this order, at your discretion. May God be with you.”

On the Palace’s compounds, behind the massive iron portcullis that divided the relentless Spascirian mob from the colonel’s 6,000-strong infantry brigade, the colonel gave his instructions with a commanding voice befitting of more than a mere colonel, but a general. He began, “We are gathered here in defence of our homeland, our country, and our people. Many of us here have children, a wife, in essence a family of our own, whose lives depend on the outcome of today’s mission. Our forefathers watch from above! We must not stray from the truth, must not be marred by the deceptive pleas of the Spascirian revolutionaries. It is today that we wrestle our home back from these bastards! Are you with me?!”

To that rhetoric, the men roared back, “Long Live The Emperor!” The reply was almost instant, and convinced the colonel that his men were prepared to martyr themselves in battle. Without delaying further, he called for the portcullis to be lifted, but to his annoyance it would not budge. Apparently, the heavy and massive thing was stuck in place due to a mechanical error. So, the colonel and his eager men were forced to wait, whilst the engineers got to work fixing the damn thing. About ten minutes had passed, and the chants of the mob outside were getting louder and louder. An engineer came up to the colonel, stating, “The portcullis can be fixed, but just not now. We feel unsafe. Sorry.” The colonel knew better than to scream at the engineer for what could not be helped. But, he thought himself to be genius. Phoning Bolte, he requested for a tank to fire and blow up the portcullis, and unconventionally it was granted.

A tank was positioned as far back from the portcullis as was possible. A distance of 200 metres separated the tank and its target. However, just as the colonel was about to give his order to fire. A man came running towards him from his left, past the gardens and a teahouse, the man appeared to an adviser to Bolte, he was exhausted from the running but when he finally calmed down, the man informed the colonel, “The Crown Commander just moments ago issued an order for the immediate cancellation of this mission. We have been instructed to return back to base.” The colonel was stunned but he had to obey the command, he told the tank operators to stand down, and his brigade too as well.

“What on earth is Henry thinking?” The colonel thought to himself.​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 9
Darkford City
15:00 Hours

It was Thursday afternoon, a time when the workers of Darkford City would get off work and head straight for lunch. Eager for rest and hungry for a succulent meal, these workers would queue in lines so long, that by the time they had a place to sit, it was again time to work. But, this was no ordinary Thursday, for Prince Haglia had decreed that today would be a time for mourning of those lost on November 25th. In a brothel, a worker whose responsibilities aren’t worth mentioning, listened to the radio as the Imperial Broadcast began its 3:00 p.m. briefing, while he waited for his shift to be over.

It Echoed:​

This is Darkford! The Imperial Broadcast brings you the latest news, national and from across the world!

The Angliarique Permanent Government has revealed that leading party figures in the Spascirian Nationalist Front will meet with the Chancellor, to discuss a peace plan to resolve the tumultuous situation in Port Stupor. The Port, a hedonist’s haven, has in recent days seen terror and fire, never before witnessed since the time of the last Spascirian revolution. Our correspondent in Port Stupor, Ms Sintia Loreizen reports, no fewer than 10,000 men and women of the Spascirian ethnicity have gathered to surround and besiege Briutine Palace, the official residence of the Earl of Port Stupor. The siege continues to pose a threat to the safety of civilians in the area, but eye-witness reports have indicated that the situation may soon calm. Meanwhile, according to the Unified Force spokesman, an infantry corps has been deployed there, but has yet to engage in any battle.

Next, Tarusan forces will be stationed in Angliarique, we’ll be hearing from Professor Boeri on what’s to come…​

The announcement from the radio left the worker to his anxious thoughts. He could not bear to think that Port Stupor might fall into the hands of what he thought were ‘barbaric’ Spascirians. He grew up amongst the Angliarisian poor, and to the aristocracy he was no different to a Spascirian. But, one thing was certain no amount of hatred between the two classes of wealth could divide them over the issue of the Spascirian populus. It was without question until in recent times, that the Spascirians were a group that was not be touched, talked to, or even heard from. They were essentially, unwelcomed. But, the Emperor’s social reform months ago, had divided the people ever more. Spascirians could now live and work, earn their bread and butter among those whom have previously shunned them. The reforms had brought humanitarian great prosperity but all were met with equal opposition.

The worker slumped in his chair and wondered what was to come for the Spascirians at Port Stupor. He wished for their loss, but equally so he wished to join them. For his economic status he was mistreated by the aristocracy as though he were a Spascirian. Since he realised this, he has held a grudge against his own. The divide grew between all classes of Angliarique society. And culminated in the rebellion at Port Stupor.
He thought to himself, “I am just like them. I am them.”​

 

[Angliarique]

Spascirian Liberation Part 10
Port Stupor
09:00 Hours​

Under immense pressure and speculation from all over the Empire of Angliarique, to do something about the crisis at Port Stupor. The Chancellor made his way by ship to Port Stupor, where his presence and authority was required to discuss a resolution, with leaders of the Spascirian Nationalist Front to put a peaceful end to the crisis ignited by VichyCha Aldewaiss’s incitement of revolution. Disembarking the ship, Lord Banker walked down the gangway to the hasty reception of Earl Briutine, who had been anxiously awaiting his arrival for some time now.

“Chancellor! Please, please, this way.” The Earl greeted, as he ushered the Chancellor into an armed convoy.

“I understand this matter is very important to you, as it is to me.” The Chancellor said while he sat in an armoured SUV en route to Briutine Palace.

“It is. It is very important.” The Earl agreed solemnly and continued, “The matter at hand is the fate of our institutions and long-held traditions. Our culture is under threat once more from the Spascirians.”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you. But, His Grace the Regent, has conveyed to me in private his wish to answer the Spascirian question. He says that he no longer feels hatred towards the Spascirians, that His Majesty the Emperor, his father might’ve been right to reform our ways. Albeit at the expense of their own reputation and credibility. So, I’m trying to tell you and be prepared that the Spascirians will be given what they ask. Freedom.” The Chancellor replied seriously.
“You cannot do this! This is treachery!” Shouted the Earl, his voice startling the chauffeur. “Alas, the Regent speaks for his father. There is no escaping from the fact that this is a decree. We must accept it.” The Chancellor rebutted.

“But, do we have to support it?” The Earl quipped. “What do you mean? I dare not ask what deviant plans you have in mind. Spare me.” The Chancellor scolded. The conversation ended on a rather awkward note.

Nearly 20 minutes had passed after the Chancellor had left his ship, the convoy reached the palace but the obstacle of Spascirian protestors remained.

“Hurry up! We’ll be late for the meeting, do something Goddammit!” The Earl cursed to the commander of the convoy though radio.

“Yes, your grace.” The radio echoed back. The Commander then voiced through a speaker to the crowd, “We hear your concerns! Let us through! And peace be with you!” The crowd then unexpectedly dispersed, perhaps surprised, and satisfied themselves by fact that an Angliarisian, a military man no less, had told them that he heard them and wished peace for them.

The convoy hastily entered the palace compounds the gates to the residence shut quickly behind them. Now, the Chancellor stood with the Earl by his side, as both men walked past the high walls of Briutine Palace. They were received by Seraphina Bolte, though she was ordered to vacate the Palace, she decided to stay around with her corps to maintain some security. “Your grace, and your excellency. I’m relieved to see both of you in good health. I’ve been told that the Spascirian leaders will soon arrive. So, please excuse me while I prepare the arrangements for their safety.” Bolte greeted. “Go ahead, Ms Bolte.” The Chancellor replied.

Relaxing and preparing themselves mentally for what was to come, they sat on an extremely soft and comfortable sofa. “I sure hope the Spascirians are as accommodating as this sofa.” The Earl quipped. “Please be serious, Briutine. The leaders of the SNF claim and really do represent the Spascirians, all of them. This negotiation will decide if the mainland is theirs or ours to keep. The Prince is watching our every move. Let us be calm. May God grant us his holy favour.” The Chancellor said. “Only divine intervention can save us now!” The Earl quipped again.

“Not divine! But, human intervention!” A voice thundered back. The leaders of the Spascirian Nationalist Front have arrived.

Spascirian Liberation Part 10 (a)
Port Stupor
09:20 Hours​

In a small meeting room enough to fit 30 people and a large desk, the Spascirians and the Angliarisians gathered. A rather confident woman by the name of Cynthia Cardhouse, who had been treasurer of the SNF for some time now, and had a particularly provocative voice that would irk any previously calm previous to violence, started the meeting by submitting the party’s demands. Whilst VichyCha Aldewaiss was nowhere to be seen, and no one questioned it.

“These are our claims, Mr Banker. Or rather more truthfully, our rights. Return our freedom and peace be with you.” Cynthia demanded of the Chancellor.

“There is no need, Ms Cardhouse. His Grace. The Prince, has informed us to carry out his wishes as per a decree issued privately yesterday morning. We will leave you and all your people, and grant you a place in which to call home. The affairs thereafter of your people shall be self-governed and determined amongst yourselves. For this, we expect that the state in which Spascirians are to call their home, remain in perpetuity part of the Empire of Angliarique. In short, the Permanent Government is willing to enter into an agreement wherein the Spascirian state is self-governed, but remains under the law of the Empire, part of it.” The Chancellor explained.

“You just want us to be a colony under subjugation of the Emperor! The SNF opposes this! I can tell you!” Cynthia shouted back.

“Ms Cardhouse, you misunderstand, there will be no colony but an autonomous republic. We are under the impression that the Spascirian people for the safety of the Empire and themselves, should remain under the protection of the Empire. But should be left to self-government. In no way, do we wish to do such things as you argue.” The Chancellor rebutted calmly.

“I cannot allow this. We want independence. We can protect ourselves.” Cynthia hit back.

“Heed us, there is no good in protecting yourselves, you will be overrun by greedy men from all Europe, to the west are the cunning foxes of Westernesse, to the east and north are political strife, to the south there is nothing but barren land, no resources of value, absolutely nothing but vast ocean! So, please heed us. For the greater good of your people, be one with us yet not the same.” The Chancellor argued.

Soon, the two parties had reached a breaking point, with no agreement in sight, the situation looked hopeless. The two representatives retreated into far corners of the room to discuss amongst their parties, what could be done to make everyone happy. With VichyCha still not in the room, Cynthia Cardhouse began to scheme. She had lost her chance to lead the SNF to a new boy, the occasion was not lost from her. She wondered if something could be done to turn the tide in her favour. Perhaps, she could take over from VichyCha?

Shouting from her corner, Cynthia said, “We are ready to enter the agreement, on the basis that certain needs are met.”

The Chancellor replied, “Thank you, Ms Cardhouse. What will it be?” With both representatives back at the table.

Cynthia schemed, “VichyCha, I think is someone who might not be capable of governing people. You see, he is a political upstart, he knows truly nothing about what the common man wants. In his rallies, he speaks of freedom but gives no suggestion on how it should be obtained. He says freedom is won through revolution, rebellion. And I think, you will agree with me, that this sort of language and rhetoric is unbecoming for a future leader of a peaceful democracy. Don’t you think?”

The Chancellor grew curious, “And what do you mean by this?”

Cynthia whispered, “Suppose he goes rogue, rallies to conquer the Empire despite our agreement. What do you think would happen? There will chaos. The only way to prevent this is to oust that madman. I’m thinking that we should cooperate for the futures of both our peoples. The elections will take place, within weeks once we pen this deal. I suppose you might want to invest in the safety of both of our political futures.”

The Chancellor whispered back, audible to only Cynthia and himself, “I see what you mean. How does sixty million sound? For the future of both our people, of course.

Cynthia whispered, “I was thinking the same too. I’m ready to agree to your terms.”

The meeting ended, with the papers signed, the creation of the Spascirian state was soon in order.

Spascirian Liberation Part 10 (b)
Port Stupor
21:00 Hours​

A brief conversation ensued in the Palace, between VichyCha and Cynthia after the agreement was penned without him.

“How could you! I’ve worked hard for this moment and you’ve taken it away. Please tell me, you have guarantees for independence.” VichyCha scolded.

“The guarantees are in. We have had to change certain conditions, but the effect remains the same. You will have your glory.” Cynthia reasoned knowing what she had done, would be his ruin.

 

[Angliarique]

Manor of Valeria, Drafting the Road to War

At midnight a large convoy of 45 cars carrying important officials belonging to the Interior Army, descended upon the Manor of Valeria. The convoy arrived at the Manor just minutes after Lord Henry had broadcasted his speech condemning the Tianese aggression in the Basilisk. The contingent was welcomed into the emperor’s magnificent residence by one of his many butlers.

Leading the contingent was five-star General and heir-apparent to the Angliarique Throne, Prince Haglia the Duke of Valeria. Prince Haglia was accompanied by his retinue of major military staff, as he walked along the wide halls of the Manor, passing by the luxurious pearl-laden ballroom and heading for the emperor’s study.

“Father! I have come!” Prince Haglia announced as he waited for the doors to the study to be opened. Trumpets roared and the head butler proclaimed the arrival of the prince, the doors soon swung open and Emperor Angliareich entered the view of the prince. “My son! The time has come.” The emperor said solemnly. The secretive conference or ‘war room’ involving 110 officials had begun.

Haglia: Gentlemen, the deployment of our naval assets to the Basilisk and the European Forum has garnered international suspicion. Already, the Tianlong Republic via CETO has deployed its naval assets to the Basilisk. I interpret their move to mean that they have an inkling of our true intentions. And furthermore, the deployment of Federation vessels to monitor our ships lined along the coast of Frescania, has caused me to believe that we are losing the element of surprise. I call on the valuable officials present here today, to discuss our next course of action.

Angliareich: Well said son. I believe there needs to be immediate retaliation, first against the Federation vessels. My talks with the Federation ambassador just moments ago, has led me to believe that an attack of the European Forum will not be ignored. Thus, we should launch a surprise assault on the Federation navy, so that we gain an early advantage. As for the Tianese, Lord Henry’s scathing condemnation should hopefully paint us as the victims of aggression in the Basilisk. I yield the floor.

Just then, a butler entered the study possessing a landline telephone. “Your majesty, Admiral Mirsorich of the European Forum assault contingent, sir.” Emperor Angliareich turned up the volume and placed it on the conference desk, as the officials present, listened intently.

Mirsorich: Your majesty, HMS Whitebow the capital ship, has spotted the Federation carrier fleet. With sir’s authority, we shall act accordingly. For Angliarique, God and Emperor! We will totally destroy them.

Angliareich: Mirsorich, come back later. I will be back with you in a while. I’m in the midst of a war room discussion.

The line cutoff. And the floor was taken by Vice-admiral Horovitz of the Basilisk naval assault group.

Horovitz: With due loyalty your majesty, I urge caution in aggression against the Tianese. If we act too rashly, we run the risk of fighting a war on two fronts. Especially worrying is the idea of battling so far away from home, at the Basilisk Sea. Supplying the Basilisk contingent would pose many challenges, that may also be detrimental to our advance.

Angliareich: Mr Horovitz, do you then suggest we back off from the sea? The international community will laugh at us! Have you not thought of the consequences? Remember Lord Henry’s speech, we will bite with ferocity never before seen in Europe’s history!

Horovitz's argument had angered the emperor, who ordered Horovitz and the other officials to leave the study. Now only Prince Haglia and Emperor Angliareich were left in there, and with the two of their brilliant minds, they began drafting declarations of war. ​

 

[Angliarique]

Foot Shooting, Back-stabbing, Manor of Valeria

With a sense of calm and peace, the two nobles began drafting the declarations of war against the @Tianlong Republic and @The Federation of Westernesse. Prince Haglia and Emperor Angliareich were all too sure of themselves, that they have created a masterplan for war and conquest. The dark study was lit only by a candle flickering intensely between the busy nobles, as they compared, discussed, and redrafted their statements by handwriting.

Suddenly, the doors to study were knocked upon once again. In came another butler, sweating profusely and with a telephone held in his hands above his bowing head, “Your majesty, an urgent message from Admiral Vareborn of the Basilisk naval assault group!”

Vareborn: Your imperial majesty… two minutes ago… two battleships under my command, were heavily damaged; I beg for your imperial majesty’s forgiveness. I had been misled to believe in the presence of the Tianese navy in the Basilisk, and in the dark shadows of the night, mistakenly fired upon my own sailors. Please! I beg for my life!

Angliareich: You what?!

The emperor was visibly shaken, with his trembling hand, he returned the telephone back to his butler. He then fiercely shot his gaze at Prince Haglia, as if teasing the prince to ask what had transpired.

Haglia: Father… Are you alright? What has become of Vareborn? Has something bad occurred?

Angliareich: Didn’t you say that the Tianese were in the Basilisk?! And didn’t you tell Henry to condemn publicly, Liao Jianhong’s aggression?! For God’s sakes, answer me God damn it! Two ships under Vareborn have been hit by our own weapons! Friendly fire! Not only has your misinterpretation of clear foreign communication, cost me dearly! It has spawned a new host of problems! Nationalists will roast us alive! Another, the international embarrassment this will cause, I shudder to even contemplate!

Haglia: Father! I do beg for your forgiveness. Earnestly. But, we have more to worry about, the Tianese via CETO are actually monitoring our European Forum naval contingent. Thus, we stand presently outnumbered by several fleets from several nations! We need a scapegoat to take the fall for Vareborn’s mistakes and our future war.

Angliareich: You know? Sometimes I wonder if you even take my scolding as your father, seriously. I admire your stable mind in times like these. And you are right about the scapegoat thing. Perhaps, Pembroke should take the fall. Isn’t she already in Frescania? What if we have our ships there and those relocating from the Basilisk, to fire upon the European Forum, as has always been our plan. But blame the attack on Pembroke going rogue? Heck! With that we don’t need declarations of war!

Haglia: Very well, father! I shall send a telegram to Pembroke’s retinue of diplomats. Asking for a more… shall we say… energetic speech.​

 

[Angliarique]

Briutine Palace, Port Stupor
The signing ceremony between the SNF and the Chancellor was soon over. But, for Earl Briutine, his troubles had just begun.
A day after the ceremony, he received a phone call from an unknown number, the curious man that he is. He answered it.

Briutine: Hello… Who is this?

Unknown: That is not important. I am merely a messenger from the Saints’ Cabal. I’ve been instructed by senior members to relay their instructions to you. You will carry these out without raising even an ounce of suspicion. Should anyone discover this plan, you will be killed. So, listen carefully.

Briutine: What is the meaning of this?! By whose authority?!

Unknown: I’m not at liberty to divulge. I am merely their messenger. I will only say it once, the instructions…

Briutine: Hold on! Let me get a piece of paper!

Unknown: Very well…

Five minutes pass

Briutine: You were saying?

Unknown: The instructions from above, I shall now say. You will withdraw your bullion from the coffers that you have hidden under the palace, away from the gaze of the emperor.

Briutine: How… do you… know?

Unknown: I will not repeat myself. You shall return three tonnes of the purest gold, all to be transported by a container lorry painted fully white, marked by only it’s license plate which will be sent to you, zero-three-four-five-seven-two. The termination of the lorry’s journey will be at Little Spasciria, we give you forty-eight hours. We will watch your every move, be wary. That is all.

Briutine: Little Sp- Hello?! Hello!

The unknown caller ended the call, leaving the Earl to a new panic. Shouting at the top of his lungs to a butler nearby, “Send me the DSB! At once! No Stop! Don’t do that!” The Earl thought to himself, he could not call for help from anyone, for no one but him knew of his greed whilst serving as Angliarique’s Chancellor years prior. This seemingly contented aristocrat, had amassed a glowing fortune of precious jewels, pure gold bars, and silver by the tonne. He knew himself better than anyone, he is responsible for absolute corruption. He could not call for help, he feared capture.

In a reluctant episode, he went alone through a secret doorway hidden under his bed in his bedchambers, walking down a fleet of narrow stairs, he reached a door that creaked when he opened it. He saw as he had seen countless times before, stashes of gold and various shelves of jewels stacked against each other, filled the ‘secret’ vault.

“Hmmm… How… am I going to bring all of this up?” The Earl muttered to himself. “I need help.” He continued with a sigh.

A few minutes later, 20 men were cramped into the vault, they were there on strict orders to move the gold up and out, into the Palace’s reception hall, where many of the Earl’s ‘benefactors and beneficiaries’ were received warmly years ago, and had also their hands in contribution to his illegal wealth. Nearly six hours had passed, and the last of the gold were safely moved.

“Has the lorry arrived? We already have the number plate.” The Earl asked of his many butlers, with tone of concern and urgency. Just then, a white lorry honked at the palace gate, it was time. The bullion was moved into the container of the lorry, and was destined on journey to the Spascirian Republic, what was to be of it, was anyone’s guess. But, the Earl was left to panic again, as he saw his wealth tremendously and dramatically decreased.

 

[Angliarique]

Corbö HQ, Port Stupor
19:00 Hours

It had been a few hours since the discovery of an enormous coal deposit, and already many opportunistic businessmen in the infant energy industry as well as prominent figures of Angliarique’s Royalty, were eager and determined to get their share of the seemingly plump pie. The discoverer, a major property development firm, Corbö Ltd, had been hit with numerous phone calls and letters from enterprising businessmen seeking to seize on the opportunity to kickstart Angliarique’s energy industry into a powerhouse.

The calls and letters offering to buyout the firm’s mining rights were firmly rejected. The President of Corbö Ltd, Franke Corbö, who always had a peculiar gift for enterprise sought to seize on this God-given chance, and take it whole. He was waiting for that one call, and he got it.
Through highly secure lines.
Corbö: Hello? Who is this?

OEA: President Corbö!

Corbö: Oh! Director Luke! From the OEA!

OEA: Yes… you’re right about that. See… let me first begin by congratulating you for the great discovery of coal in the mainland. Who could’ve thought that coal could exist in the empire! Shocking.

Corbö: Thank you. I’m very grateful that you awarded my company the transport contract, which has since led to this discovery which you must definitely be praised for. I mean were it not for you, no one would have discovered it!

OEA: Yes… yes, I see. Thank you. Putting that aside, I’m pleased to inform you that the APG is willing to make an investment for Corbö Ltd to carry out the extraction of the newly found coal deposits. The initial investment is worth 50 million Euromarks. And a second investment is worth 350 million Euromarks for a natural gas powerplant to be built.

Corbö: Good god! I’m honoured. How should I repay this generosity?

OEA: Well, if the plant is completed by the next and the expect 500 megawatt output is fulfilled, the Chancellor would be very pleased. And it probably will be, since we already have existing facilities for the extraction of natural gas. Erm… besides that, the APG is also seeking for a share of Corbö Mining, your energy arm.

Corbö: How big of share are we speaking exactly?

OEA: Well, 31% to be held by a shell controlled by the APG. And 20% to be held by another shell controlled by the Manor of Valeria.

Corbö: That would mean nationalisation. I don’t see how Corbö Ltd can benefit from this arrangement.

OEA: Look. This is the offer put forth by the government, for the 400 million that you’ll get. Not to mention, that the APG is proposing exempting Corbö Ltd and you personally from taxation. I’ve also heard rumours that you’re on the list for a Scholar Imperium award… But, since you don’t seem sure about this arrangement that has been discussed heavily and has left the governors rather tired. I’d be afraid of what they might say or even do, if you were to reject.

Corbö: No, no wait! I’m not rejecting anything. The percentages can be accepted, I wasn’t thinking clearly.

OEA: I like how you do business. Thank you for your time, goodbye.

And just like that, Franke Corbö tried to seize but was seized instead. Corbö Ltd soon after began the coal extraction, and broke ground for the construction of the powerplant.

 

[Angliarique]

DSB HQ, Port Lionheart
18:00 Hours

“What’s this thing with the chancellor’s economy push?” asked a half-naked man wearing beach trunks, sitting on an office chair, in the concrete building of the Darkford Security Bureau (DSB) headquarters. “I’m as clueless as you are. Bugger me, he’s a loony, have you seen the transcript for the call he had with Corbö?! Why ask for a little scratch on his back? Why a little majority of the fucking company? Why not take the whole back scratcher?!” Shouted the man’s colleague.
“I don’t know man… maybe he’s just worried Corbö might have a grasp of his balls!” The half-naked man quipped.

“Hold on yeah… I’m getting a signal; it appears he’s having another call with em.” The man’s colleague replied, whilst tapping around on his listening station. “Really? Let me hear em.” The half-naked man requested curiously.

*Beep*

Banker: Hello! Yes, hello… can you hear me?

Corbö: Yes sir.

Banker: Look, hear me out. I have a brilliant proposal for you and your company.

Corbö: Go on…

Banker: I want you to work with Horatio EverHouse.

Corbö: You want me to work with my prime competitor? Are you a lunatic?

Banker: Like I said, hear me out.

Corbö: I’m hearing, oh I’m hearing! But, I may not listen. So, hurry up!

Banker: Horatio is thinking of divesting the copper subsidiary of EverHouse Group, Royal Metal Company. But, he’s looking for a foreign buyer. If you are really a true nationalist, you’ll fear as much as I do, when I say that copper cash cow cannot fall into foreign hands. Our economy would be at the mercy of our enemies. I hope you understand, what I’m trying to mean.

Corbö: I do. But, what do you want me to do? EverHouse Group has a monopoly over copper. Horatio himself is forty times richer than I ever will be! I even heard he’s looking purchase Briutine Palace. Unless of course, you break up EverHouse Group, no one can stand a chance at lifting our economy out of recession. That includes the Manor!

Banker: I’m asking you to work with him. Cozy up to him, don’t let him divest. And we can’t afford to break up his company, because it’ll send a bad signal to the others, that the APG is too interventionist. Do you hear me?

Corbö: With all due respect, you can’t seriously be asking me, me! To cozy up to that fucking shite! That guy, Horatio, is up to his arse about how much money he makes! He’s as egotistical as a colourful parrot, as annoying as crickets at night, and above all he’s a brutal businessman. Do you want to know what really happened to Barley?

Banker: What do you mean? Are you talking about the dog?

Corbö: Yes! What else would I be talking about for god sake! Horatio kidnapped Barley to leverage himself against the emperor. A little birdie in Valeria told me, Horatio had his men kidnap the dog to his beachside bungalow near Parry Coast. Why? He was trying to ransom Barley in exchange for full protection from the law. Demands like no tax on his family, no criminal liability, more mining licenses to be gifted to friends and family, that sort of thing.

Banker: My god! How could this happen?! Where’s Barley now? Is he still… alive?

Corbö: He is. He’s still at Horatio’s house. But, that’s besides the point. Do you really expect me to work with a man like that? To cozy up to him, such as you said. It’ll be a miracle if I’m not castrated like a dog! Because that’s exactly what you’re telling me to be!

Banker: Barley got castrated?

Corbö: No! Ah! Forget it. I won’t work with him, but I have an idea, give me the funds to buyout his company at dawn when the ANSM opens. If it works, we’ll save our country. And you can control and protect the company through a proxy if you like.

Banker: What if it doesn’t work? Should I tell the *ANSM to close later?

Corbö: It doesn’t matter if it closes later. Once EverHouse’s investors are spooked, we’ll lose. So, we must act fast. Gain full control of the company before lunch, it’ll take approximately 900 million dahls to execute this, looking at the current price per share, it’ll probably be the same tomorrow. So, can you get the funds?

Banker: I’ll work something out and fund half of it. You fund the other half.

Corbö: We have a deal… Chancellor.

*Beep*

“His Majesty’s pet is with Horatio EverHouse?” questioned the half-naked man, reavling a shocked expression. “It appears so.” Replied his colleague, and continued, “I will alert the *UFCA.”

“No. This is a DSB matter. Please alert the Interior Governor. We have a sicko to catch! That bastard ugh!” The half-naked man replied.

*ANSM – Angliarique National Share Market
*UFCA – Unified Force Civillian Authority/ Angliarique Police​

 

[Angliarique]

Angliarique Interior Army
Restricted – Caution Standard MAX

Addressed: The Unified Force
Branch: Valerian Guard
Commanding Officer: Lredry Poer, Field Commandant

Originating Office: Interior Army
In Command: Lord Henry, Crown Commander

The noted Field Commandant shall carry out the following instructions:

YOU shall undertake the recruitment process of 100,000 persons.
YOU shall ensure the process is through draft selection.
YOU shall take in only those fit and able. Disregard the crippled.
YOU shall be unbiased when delegating executive control.
YOU shall delegate authority with YOUR discretion.
YOU shall report back after passing the threshold of 75,000 recruits.
After which, the Valerian Guard shall be responsible for their training.

End of Communication ​

• Incinerate After Reading​
• Make No Copies​

 

[Angliarique]

Angliarique Interior Army
Restricted – Caution Standard MAX

Addressed: Interior Army
Branch: Interior Army
Commanding Officer: Lord Henry, Crown Commander

Originating Office: Valerian Guard
In Command: Lredry Poer, Field Commandant

Dear Lord Henry, the Crown Commander,

I am delighted to report the success of the recruitment mission ordered by your office.
As of the time of writing, my subordinates have recorded a grand total of 78,000 new recruits.
We expect complete fulfilment of the set target to be within 24 hours from now.

We have noted that those selected through the draft, were pleasantly patriotic to the cause of
serving as a member of His Majesty’s forces.

As part of my responsibilities, I am obligated to report to your office, the officers whom I
have selected to lead under my command. As of now, they are:

Madam Seraphina Bolte, formerly Lieutenant General, promoted to Lieutenant Marshal
Commands the Second Advanced Special Guard, approx. 45,000+ members.

Mr. George Hubble, presently Secretary to the Crown Commander
Commands the Third Advanced Special Guard, approx. 30,000+ members.

With these necessary disclosures conducted, the Valerian Guard shall pursue your final instruction,
that is training of the new recruits under the present special forces programme.

At your service, for the Empire!
Lredry Poer
Field Commandant (VG)

End of Communication ​

• Recommended to Incinerate After Reading​
• Reconmmended to Make No Copies​

 

[Angliarique]

Port Lionheart
19:00 hours

Several military officials gathered at the centre of activity, or rather were the activity themselves. In a small room they convened a meeting on a subject no one wished would ever be brought to their attention. It all began with Valerian Guard Field Commandant Lredry Poer, who had just returned to the service of the Interior Army after months in retirement. His return a well-kept secret, as he wished it would never be public knowledge.

Poer: Gentlemen. I call this meeting to discuss an issue of importance, but yet seems to be ignored. I’m sure all of us know what this is. Can anyone fathom a guess?

The room was silent.

Poer: Fine. Let me put it bluntly then. As we know, new developments in the foreign arena have proven greatly bleak for everyone. This we know due to reports from media sources. The world may soon be at war, when? I do not know. But, the question is then… what are our weaknesses? To start this, I’ll raise the security or the lack thereof in Little Spasciria. The people there have no conventional army to speak of. No air force, nor any aircraft for that matter. They are landlocked, and possibly may put the empire’s wider security under some pressure. But, what do you think? Let’s start with Madam Bolte shall we?

Startled that she was asked such a politically sensitive question given the recent Spascirian revolution, she could only muster words that neither satisfied the curiosities of the Field Commandant, nor gave the officials at the table a sliver of confidence. Seraphina Bolte or Madam Bolte as she was known in the Unified Force, had just recently been promoted from Lt Gen. in the Carpathian Regiment to Lieutenant Marshal of the Valerian Guard, a prestigious position that held certain potential to gain the favour of royalty, something a mere commoner could only ever hope for, it was wishful thinking for many, but not Madam Bolte. She was determined at first to see the empire strong and bold, but now, now she cowered as questions were asked of her.

Poer: Madam Bolte, do you hear? If you’re going to answer confidently, how can what you say? You were after all deployed to Port Stupor at the scene of the revolution. We want to know what the feelings of those people are, over there, before we decide what next to do with regards to securing the area. Time waits for no one, you should answer now, truthfully.

Bolte: Sir, I do apologise. The thing with the Spascirians, is that they want nothing to do with us. If we go in to secure them, they’ll see it as another attempted suppression. Another probable massacre, perhaps they may even think we’re going to genocide them, which all has never been the case. The Spascirians have been unruly, and deserved the punishment, just as any rioter would suffer the consequences of creating havoc and public chaos, right? This is my concerns over this issue, how can we get an agreement from them? They would never.

As Madam Bolte terminated her train of thoughts, Lredry Poer was handed a small note from his aide, who stood by his side and began to whisper a suspiciously quiet message. As the aide pulled back from Poer’s ear, the Field Commandant sat back with a face of astonishment. The rest of the table were eyeing him, curious as to what had caused such a reaction. They would soon find out.

Poer: I’ve just been handed a note, as you all have seen, the contents I must stress are strictly top secret. Keep it to yourselves. Now, we are aware that the Chancellor is in Little Spasciria, yes? Well… the thing is… the thing is, according to the Foreign Cabinet… he has just ended negotiations with the Spascirian leader. Their leader, VichyCha, agreed with our chancellor that our troops will be invited to the area, in order to set up and establish public security. We’ll be like their police force of sorts, a kind of all-inclusive public servant, firefighting, healthcare, you get the idea…

The rest of the room understood now why the Field Commandant had expressed such shock. And they were left to ponder over a new issue, the Chancellor’s new policy (and how the hell he got VichyCha to talk to him).​

 

[Angliarique]

Coup: The APG
Chancellor's Office, Sanctum of Laurels
Angliarique Empire
8:00 PM SUNDAY

BAM! The tough cast-iron doors of the Chancellor’s office flung open. A contingent of several military officials from the Valerian Guard walked in, and sense of solemn reigned the air. The kingly might of army and war set besieged on the minds of the imperialists in the Sanctum of Laurels, their eyes characterise themselves, putrid manifestations that only wished hunger, fear, and struggle, on all people. Their eyes pinned down a map of Ebria lay awaiting its mortal fate on a decaying wooden table.

Finally, a General spoke, “Dear chancellor. For the past few months, the Tarusan peoples have waged war against their enemies, through us on foreign soil. Though they have helped us immensely in all areas of our lives, I cannot less express my anger. Frustration! Over the absolute massacre of our men in Ebria. We must give up this fight, chancellor, seek peace with the republicans, we cannot afford more deaths. This is not our fight to be in.”

He continued, “Please consider this, sir. My men are angry, families are demanding answers. They want to hear from you, I dare not let them. I fear what they would to you, you have caused the deaths of many a son, the poverty of families. You must seek peace.”

The Chancellor interrupted, “How dare you?! This is the pride of our empire; this is the image of all of us. How can we give up on a brother king just like that! This is ridiculous. I must have you arrested; this is treason! Seize him, guards, seize him!”

None of the guards present, nor the numerous military men present in the Chancellor’s office moved a muscle. It was clear if not to all, especially to the Chancellor, that the political tide and fury of the empire was turning against the government, it had to be either capitulation or decapitation, and none knew which was the lesser pain to endure.

The General then voiced his demands again, “Have you had enough?! Hundreds of our men have lost their lives on foreign soil, in a country that wages war like there’s no tomorrow. And if things keep up the way they are, surely there will be no tomorrow! They rape, murder, pillage, and plunder. They use gas attacks to choke the enemy into submission, this is the hallmark of cowards, this is the fault of failed leaders, not brave souls mind you. Not brave souls.”

He continued with the growing harsh tone in his voice, “Make up your mind? Should we continue fighting alongside these demonic bastards incarnate?! There is no pride in fighting a war like this, no pride at all! Make the choice or we’ll make it for you!”

“Remarkable! Fantastic even.” The Chancellor exclaimed. He continued, “Never in so many a decades have I ever come across a soldier that would not obey his master, you serve me, you serve the throne, you serve with wide regard the empire to which all of us live and thrive in. You want that to be tossed aside due to some little political squabble, a tiny warm fever in the scene of Ebrian politics. SO what? What if they do those horrid things that you suggest? That changes nothing for our stance, we must remain fighting alongside our brother king. You wish to see the royals fall don’t you? You have nothing but contempt and ill-regard, dare I say, hate for the monarchy. Your dreams are hopeless! Futile!”

The Chancellor’s words had irked the General, the latter proceeded to produce his

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, discharging 5 rounds into the Chancellor’s left knee and obliterating it in its entirety. The General shouted while the Chancellor suffered in agony, apparent by his intense screams, “This is the feeling of many a men that you have sent to war, and the feeling of those families lost to the war. They have been… brought… to their knees. Answer us then… have you decided you halfwit??!”

“NEVER!” The Chancellor shouted with all the breath he could muster after the horrifying ordeal. Not fazed by the blood that was pooling on the office floor from what was left of the Chancellor’s knee, the General uttered, “Very well, say hello to Barley for me.” He emptied the final bullet into the Chancellor’s head.​