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Generals, Governments and the God-Awful

Rheinbund

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TO: Her Excellency Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim

FROM: Dr. Stephan Röpke, Chancellor of Eiffelland

Your Excellency,

I am writing to you in these bad times to offer you our support and help, and to give you advice.

We understood from our ambassador that you closed Bergenheim's airspace and soil for our troops after a serious threat from Kadikistan. Under those circumstances, I understand your decision. I won't ask you to open your border for my armed forces again. I completely understand that you shrink from such a decision under Kadikistani threat.

However, I urge you to refrain from another decision you may want to take. You yourself have experienced how Kadikistan usually negotiates: Not from a position of equality but from threats. That is how it has gone since the revolution: Kadikistan imposes its will upon its neighbourcountries by posing a serious threat, and then most of the times the neighbourcountries give in. Like Elben gave in when it decided to buy its oil from somewhere else than Kadikistan, and Kadikistan threatened to invade. That is the way Kadikistan cooperates with its neighbours: It forces them to do what it wants by imposing military threats. Elben succumbed to it. Now Kadikistan determines where Elben buys its oil.

Something comparable will also happen when you decide to cooperate more closely with the Kadikistani. First of all, their negotiators will not treat you as equal to them; they will treat you as the leader of a country that capitulates, and will dictate you their terms. From the moment you sign, you will have to discuss each and every decision you take with the Kadikistani ambassador, and he will have the final say. The Kadikistani ambassador will even determine for Bergenheimer companies with whom they are allowed to trade. Bergenheim will loose the freedom it fought for ages ago. And not only its freedom, but also its wealth. Furthermore, you will destroy everything you yourself fought for: Equal rights for women and equal treatment of women compared with men, an ideal even I as an old man agree with and and carried out during my whole working life up to now.

You may think that you save your country with signing an agreement with Kadikistan, but you will only seem to save it on the short term; you will destroy it on the longer term.

Maybe you are still frightened about closing a deal with us because of Kadikistan's threats. I completely understand that. Therefore, I cannot officially offer you anything. I can unofficially offer you the setup of a complete antimissile system with which you can stop a Kadikistani missile attack. I can also offer you assistance in obtaining military equipment from other sources than the Rurikgrad Pact or the Trier Concord. I can also unofficially offer you a free-trade agreement with Eiffelland, and other economic benefits. I will discuss with the Trier Concord to extend this agreement to the rest of the Trier Concord. Of course this will be something that we have to keep hidden as well. Finally, I can also offer you an easier access to Eiffelland's ports. Bergenheim does not have access to the oceans; as a result, Bremen and Lübeck are also the seaports of Bergenheim. We can make the customs procedures easier for you, so that goods travelling from Bergenheim to Bremen and Lübeck and vice versa will be subject to faster and cheaper customs procedures. I guarantee you that the Kadikistani ambassador will forbid you to close any deals with us when you sign an agreement with Kadikistan.
Finally, I unofficially offer you to retaliate with our air force and missiles in the case of a Kadikistani attack, and to help you with defending Bergenheim when needed. We may have not shown much military strength up to now, but we have the capacity to carry out a massive strike if needed. And if you allow us to defend Bergenheim against the Rurikgrad Pact, we will be able to reach the Rurikgrad Pact military assets.

I put my trust in your feeling for the right decision for Bergenheim.

Best regards,

«Signature illegible»

Dr. Stephan Röpke, Chancellor
 

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TO: Her Excellency Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim

FROM: Prof. Dr. Julia Böttcher, Minister of Justice of Eiffelland

Your Excellency,

I am writing to you from woman to woman in these bad times.

We are involved in leading the country, you as Archchancellor, I as Minister. We both made our careers in countries that less and less became a man's world during the last 30 years. We both have fought for our rights. Now you are Archchancellor of Bergenheim, and I am Minister in a cabinet with five female Ministers. OK, we in Eiffelland are not yet where Bergenheim is, but we are making progress as well. One of Eiffelland's political parties has a woman as political leader.

This progress was only possible in the athmosphere of freedom that exists in our countries. And this athmosphere of freedom has made much more possible than that. In Eiffelland, women are not forced any more to choose between a job or children, because of the many possibilities regarding part-time work for both men and women, and because of the very good day care facilities for children and the possibilities for parents to take leave for care of sick children. Both fathers and mothers take their share and duties in raising their children, and have the possibility to do so.

This athmosphere of freedom is something we have the duty to preserve for the people coming after us. We should not allow the Kadikistani to destroy it.

I put my trust in your feeling for the right decision for Bergenheim.

Best regards,

«Signature illegible»

Prof. Dr. Julia Böttcher, Minister of Justice
 

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TO: Her Excellency Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim
Lotti Degurechaff

FROM: Generaloberst Lorenz Feders, Chief of Staffs of Eiffelland
Ferdinand Jung, Minister of Defence and Commander-in-Chief of Eiffelland
Horst Raimer, CEO of Raimer
Walther Rathenau, CEO of the Rathenau Gruppe

Your Excellencies,

We thank you for the choice of the Wirbelsturm plane to replace your fighter fleet. As you probably understand, we cannot deliver the planes due to the war. This is something we sincerely regret. To overcome this problem, we will allow you to produce the Wirbelsturm yourself, with a licence from Raimer & Rathenau Flugzeugwerke. We express our hope that this will overcome the delivery problems and will provide you with new fighter planes with minimal delays in your schedule.

Best regards,

«Signatures illegible»

Lorenz Feders
Ferdinand Jung
Horst Raimer
Walther Rathenau
 

Bergenheim

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TO:
Generaloberst Lorenz Feders, Chief of Staffs of Eiffelland
Ferdinand Jung, Minister of Defence and Commander-in-Chief of Eiffelland
Horst Raimer, CEO of Raimer
Walther Rathenau, CEO of the Rathenau Gruppe


FROM: Her Excellency Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim
on behalf of the Republic of Bergenheim de jure and ex facto

Esteemed Gentlemen,

We thank you for contacting us at such a turmultous time with so generous an offer. In the normal course of things we would be glad to enter so advantageous a partnership with yourselves, both privately and nationally. The opportunity to produce the Wirbelsturm would, indeed, greatly aid our ailing aerospace industries, and provide for the creation of many jobs, a thing much needed in this time of increasing immigration.

Sadly however, I cannot accept such a license agreement, as advantageous as it would be, both economically and milltarily. Right now, we play a dangerous game with the Rurikgrad Pact, and a move towards upgrading our potential offensive capabilities, regardless of justification or intent, could be seen as provocation.

Furthermore, the national budget is already stretched meeting the other demands of the military industrial sector at this crucial time, and since the Christmas Crisis. We dare not raise taxes when our economy is being pressured, and to eat away anymore at other areas of our budget at this time would be politically disastrous.

We appreciate how difficult and how generous such an offer is, but we must, sadly, decline.

Best regards,

«Clear, flowing signature>>

Sigrid Vogt,

Archchancellor of the Republic of Bergenheim
Holder of the Keys
Chancellor of Midweis Canton
Acting Supreme Leader (Chancellor-President) of the Emergency Powers Cabinet



TO:
Dr. Stephan Röpke, Chancellor of Eiffelland
Prof. Dr. Julia Böttcher, Minister of Justice of Eiffelland

FROM: Same as above

To Whom It May Concern,

<flowery words, flowery words, lorem ipsum dolor etc etc etc>

In Brief, I thank you for your kind messages and words of encouragement, advisement and support. I assure you, Bergenheim will take no hasty, risky, or unwise actions at this time. Well has this lesson been learned. Steps will be taken to ensure a full, confident, prosperous neutrality is restored and maintained. The inducements of Kadikistan will be handled with care and the inducements of Eiffelland will be handled with respect.

If ever you should need a mediator or a place for diplomatic congress, Midweis is always open to both colleagues and "comrades" alike.

Kind Regards,

Siggy Vogt


OOC: Sorry for condensing the responses like this. Normally I do enjoy writing a long-form diplomatic response, and I do enjoy the letters you sent Eiffelland. Its just I figure you'd rather get the gist of the response/stance being taken sooner rather than later. Letters from Lotti and others will be on their way soon.
 

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The air was thick with the scent of mountain heather, which grew thick on the rolling grounds surrounding the Konigsruhe Headquarters, where Lotti lived like a latter-day aristocrat. Today was no different, as clad in a white padded fencing doublet and pants, she practiced her sword-play with her partner, Natalya Srebnioff.

Light streamed in hazy waves, making Lotti's hair seem golden and flashy as she moved gracefully, switching from pose to pose, testing the weight of her blade in the air.

A Referee stood off to one side, slightly bored. A tray with a Sangria jug and glasses full of melting ice-cubes and fruity punch was being generously shared with a number of millitary and civil dignitaries who were in attendance.

"Are both sides ready?" he asked lazily.

Lotti grinned at her lover, who was affixing her face-mask.

"Lets make it first to five?" She said casually.

Natalya smiled back playfully. They were both older now, always older. Crows-feet had begun to touch Natalya's wide eyes. But they still had some spark of youth in them both, though Lotti felt hers being drained more and more as this crisis dragged on and on.

"Oh? eager to finish? You're not normally this hasty." She flirted gently.

"Be careful, my Leutnant. The blades are meant to be sharp, not the tongues."
"I'm not in the Army anymore. Or your inferior. And the blades are meant to be dulled, remember?"

Lotti lowered her fencing mask, saluting her partner with her epee.

"You were always the smarter fighter. But I was always the quicker."
"Speed's not always an advantage. Stamina?"
"Please, my Leibchen. You're embarrassing the men."
"I am sure you can embarass yourself plenty fine."

She lowered her mask, returning the salute.

They looked to the referee.

"Allez!"

The first phrase began. They moved slowly, judging each other's reaction times. A few exploratory jabs, quick, teasing movements. Like stolen kisses in dappled woods, or lingering glances in the communal showers.

Like everything in her life, Lotti had always sought that golden plateau of excellent comfort. Motivated by rough beginnings, she had sought out that imagined place of idle ease, where one could live like a Ritter, all effort expended and just time for play. Yet as she had climbed the ranks, she had found she could never quite find that place of rest.

And so now, here she was, head of her country's armed forces, and yet the past seven or eight months she had been actively climbing upwards to...what? Did she really want to start a war with Kadikistan? To become a military dictator? Where did her goals end?

Her body moved with machine-like precision. Neither age nor inactivity had slowed her reflexes or proficiency. Sweat beaded slowly under her mask.

"Halt! Passing Point to Natalya."

Lotti raised her eyes. She had been fast, but she hadn't been paying attention. Natalya had exploited her weaknesses like only someone who had known her most of her life could. She tried to refocus on the game as they returned to the en-garde lines.

"Daydreaming while fencing again dear? Its a good thing you only have one sword to miss with."

Lotti frowned. An obvious tactic, trying to rattle her. Natalya knew Lotti was...sensitive about that particular issue.

Yes, she had been born intersex. Androgyne Insensitivity. She looked like a young, tomboyish woman even in her early 40's partly because of it. She'd worked hard to keep that particular medical peculiarity a secret. As far as anyone knew, she was just a regular old ambitious lesbian tomboy.

Still, it was rare for Natalya to bring it up even in such an oblique way, especially in a semi-public place. She wondered why her partner had done so, even if only as a distractionary measure.

"Allez!"

They resumed again. This time she pressed home her advantage, her arm extended, seeking openings to make a touch.

Natalya played it cool, moving expertly, moving her foil with economy of movement. Maybe they should have tried out for the Summer Games?

Yet once again she felt her attention drifting. She was at a cross-roads, as was her country. Power was beginning to aggregate, drawn between two effective camps. Vogt, in the city, drew the political and business elites to her cause. She also, wether she knew it or not, had the tacit support of the Communists, Privileged Students and Middle-Class Marxists.

Lotti had begun drawing support to herself aswell. In a political system where formalised Parties of Ideology were banned, Personality-driven Factions were common. Sigrid Vogt had won her Chancellorship because the people she appealed to wanted a weak personality who could act as an informal party leader. Lotti was drawing support for the opposite reason.

The Engellex Affair was proving to be a complicated one. She could not buy the missiles her country needed without authorisation by the Treasury. The Treasury was controlled by Vogt. So she had turned to patriotic businessmen to act as middle-men. But, wealthy as they were, missiles, and their transport would be very expensive, even for such men.

But a curious opportunity had come her way. A Letter, from Rathenau in Eiffelland. Apparently there had been others which had been intercepted from reaching her, but somehow the private mail of an arms manufacturer had made i through.

She had friends in Eiffelland. They had offered a license to produce the Wirbelsturm. Could she acquire that? And while there, could she turn a jet she couldn't build into missiles she could carry? It was a risky plan, with a lot of flaws.

"Halt! Point, touche!"

Lotti looked, surprised. She felt the blade point graze ever so softly her shoulder.

How?

"Meine General, how will your eggs hatch if you keep selling the chicks at market?" Natalya asked rhetorically, using an old aphorism that essentially meant the same thing as "stop daydreaming."

And again, the subtle reference to intimate biology. She had no eggs. Was she being sensitive, or was her lover goading her over this? Surely she wouldn't.

She pressed home her next attack aggressively, focusing on trying to get a point. Instead she got a foul. Now she was sweating for real. Her men, who had been lazing around, now watched attentively. This erstwhile civilian was beating her! It was a friendly with her wife of course, but even so.

"You remember Colonel Reinhardt?" Natalya asked conversationally, while she took a drink from her glass of sangria. A slight break, a wise move. Lotti let her mouth dry. She wanted to earn that drink with success.

"The Landsknecht? Bah. Wasted talent."

"You know some say that the real reason Bergenheim is run by women is that all the real men go abroad chasing gold, glory and foreign women."

"Its not my fault if the men in this land have no dicks." She said defensively. "And even if they did, I wouldn't change a thing in my life. I am who I am. Not a substitute for anyone else."

"Blood and Soil?" Natalya mused. "And who are you? Meine General?"

"I am someone who is going to get a point."

She lowered her mask. She was being rash, she knew. But she had to prove a point, as well as score one.

As they drew close for a fourth, fifth, sixth time, Lotti felt herself growing increasingly fatigued. On the seventh, her last before the Bout would be called in Natalya's favour, her lover leaned close, whispering through her mask.

"What if I told you I was pregnant?"

Lotti's eyes went wide at that.

What...?

"Halt and Engarde! Point, and Game, to Natalya!"

There was a light smattering of applause. Lotti removed her mask.

"Congratulations." She said faintly. "We need to talk."

"I have time when you do." She said lightly, though there was concern in her voice. She sensed she had perhaps pushed too fast herself.

"I-"

"Frau General, a message from ah...your friend in Engellex?"

Lotti felt light-headed. Perhaps a gruelling fencing session in the sunlight was a bit much. She moved unsteadily to the side, and took a long refreshing swig of the Sangria.

"Give it to me, for my eyes only." She said. She turned her back for a moment, and so she did not see Natalya's face.
 

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The conference room in the Congress building was packed full of people as the reapprochement began. Not between Bergenheim and Kadikistan- but between its Archchancellor and its First Fist. It was a strange time, with strange politics making stranger bedfellows of people who in normal circumstances should have been superior and inferior. The Millitary has always answered to the Civillian government in Bergenheim. No exceptions. Darkenseele's Republic was ash, and his Jacobin ideals of soldier-democracy something every school-child in Bergenheim learned the tragic folly of.

Yet, the wheel had turned, and turned again, and now, the Archchancellor found herself, and her nation, facing an existential threat, that required a powerful military, and indulgence of a powerful, and frightening segment of the nation's dark, political underbelly.

Only Lotti seemed to understand and appreciate the irony. She gave a curt smile as she shook Sigrid's hand, to the snap of cameras, as she sat down in her appointed place at the National Unity Government. Anyone would think she was the head of an opposition party, and not this government's duly chosen Head of the Armed Forces.

But a subtle weakness that had existed in Bergenheimer politics for decades had finally been torn open. The banning of parties in the Third Midweis Congress of 1968 had radically changed how politics was done in the Republic. In an attempt to curtail the influence of divisive ideological factions, they had instead empowered personality-driven ones.

This hadn't been a problem for 40 years, as most politicians in Bergenheim had no personality.

Untill Lotti, that is. And the fact that she wasn't technically a professional politician only strengthened her appeal. She didn't need to announce candidacy, or campaign, or follow the conventions and traditions. Everyone in the Republic understood that she had power, and would only gain more, as the crisis worsened and time wore on.

Nobody in government had voiced it yet, but Degurechaff had been made aware that there still existed, unused, an almost forgotten clause in the original Bergenheim Constitution, established after the end of the Darkenseele War in the 1800s. Inter arnim maxim bellum leges.

In times of War, the Law obeys the strongest.

Sigrid did her best not to glare at the strange, youthful looking creature in crisp black uniform. She was the democratically elected head of state, and yet all eyes were on the young general.

Everyone was watching for signs of Darkenseelism. Everyone was afraid of some revolutionary despot who'd seize power in blood and fire. But Vogt wasn't afraid of that. She knew, with grim certainty, that all Lotti had to do was wait.

She gripped the pen in her hand tightly. She would not let things grow so dire.

Angela Zweigler stumbled in, her face flustered and tanned from a long extended trip in Cathay. It no longer mattered if she had secured an air route there or not. What mattered more, what mattered now, was the East, not the Far East.

"Thank you for joining us First Hand." she said curtly.

"Now we are all here, let the first official session of the National Unity Government in full begin in earnest. Our first order of business. The Midweis Conference. We shall keep the Council in the North quisecent, and prevent them from escalating the situation in Crotobaltislavonia. We must also implore Kadikistan to send a delegation, and to condemn the barbarism of Serenierre..."

Lotti simply sat and watched. She didn't need to say anything at all. When the time came, and the chips were down, she knew. They would listen to her, and not this ageing, fading crone of democracy.
 

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March For Neutrality, Midweis

Professor Solomon Lansky took the stage to the roaring cheers of fifty thousand supporters. For a moment, it was all he could do to walk nonchalantly to the podium. He had just about resisted temptation to decorate this event with red flags, and his PR manager had refused to sell even the little hammer and sickle badges he had wanted all his followers to have.

But, optics were everything. And if a pretense of bourgeoise acceptability was necessary to usher in the Revolution, he would swallow his pride and play the "reasonable" one against the imperialist warmonger double act.

And so, taking a deep breath, the white-haired old communist addressed the largest crowd he had ever seen.

"Today is a great day for democracy." he lied through his teeth, the simpering rhetoric sliding smoothly on his silver tongue.

"Today marks the first step towards not only strengthening our neutrality, but our Republic!"

The crowd roared its approval. Young and old, mostly young, the crowd was filled with liberal bourgeoise. But, what did you expect from Midweis?

He thumped the desk as he warmed to this theme.

"United in our common cause, we have shown the autocrat and the warlord that the people will not fight their wargames! We asked for ten thousand, and fifty thousand of you answered! We come from all walks of life, all creeds, colours and faith. Our cause is strong because it is just!"

A montage began to play on the massive telescreen behind him, showing shots of the crowd, interspersed with earlier marches, cheering school-children, and other bright friendly and totally-not-staged expressions of support for the No-War March.

"Some have said that this is about socialism, or liberalism, or my poltiical candidacy."

Loud boos accompanied his mention of the word "socialism", a reality that he struggled to avoid wincing at.

"But I can see from you all that our unity goes beyond the usual tribal politics! I see some of you are of the right age to do your national service, to answer the warlord's call to bolster her army and -her- ego!"

There were roars of disapproval. He smiled slightly. Really, Lotti did herself no favours with her bombastic public appearances in full military uniform. The propaganda wrote itself. And Vogt- what a non-entity Vogt was! She didn't even dare show her face at her countryside conference for the imperialists.

"Will you go? Will you abandon your lives, your homes, your careers, and shiver in the trenches to play soldier for the Little Oskar?"

"Nein! Nein! Nein! Keine Krieg! Keine Kreig!"

"I'm sorry I can't hear you. Let's try that again, so even the bureaucrats in Bockenthule can hear you!"

"KEINE KREIG! KEINE KREIG!"

He smiled with satisfaction. Positioning himself as spokesperson and leader for the Anti-War movement had been risky, and might anger his Kadikistani "comrades" who preferred no revolutionary antics. But keeping Bergenheim strictly where it was was surely an accomplishment. The Liberals simply didnt have any household names that could match his presence. Politics was usually such an anodyne affair.

But by positioning herself as a Personality, Lotti had opened the flood-gates. Now all sorts of "interesting" people were entering the game.

Wether or not there was war, Solomon was confident that these liberal fools would back him, and in so doing provide the backdoor for socialism to finally enter this fat, rotten republic.
 

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March for Neutrality, Midweis

In point of fact, the Eiffellandian Government did not want to interfere in the political process of other countries, but now it had no choice. If Bergenheim would turn Marxist-Leninovist, Gallo-Germania was in trouble.

There was an import-export firm in Bergenheim called Berendubel Importe und Exporte GmbH. The family Berendubel, a liberal family, saw that there was a Communist movement developing in Bergenheim. It also saw Professor Lansky’s cunning. At a certain moment, the head of the Berendubel family got the idea to start massive advertisement campaigns against the Communists. But where would he get the money from?
That question was answered through the connections he had with Eiffellandian businessmen. A lot of companies were grounded or taken over in Engellex, Tiburia, Occitania, Gunnland, Elben, Jyskerige‑Østveg, Bourgogne etc. Then those companies started to buy Bergenheimer products from Berendubel Importe und Exporte GmbH and paid more money for those products than they were worth. Then those products were sold to other companies for more than their value, then again to other companies etc. In the end, it was the Eiffellandian government that paid the money, but the flow of the money and the pathway of the goods was so complex that it would take an enormous lot of time to find out that it was the Eiffellandian government that paid too much for the goods.
The excess amount of money went into a campaign against Professor Lansky.

During the March for Neutrality, SMS-messages were sent to all the people taking part in the march, except to the organisers. “Peace? Neutrality? Prof. Lansky represents the ideology of the world’s most militarist country: Kadikistan.” “Peace? Neutrality? Kadikistan is currently robbing out Trivodnia in the name of Prof. Lansky’s ideology: Marxism-Leninovism.” “Peace? Neutrality? Prof. Lansky’s Marxism-Leninovism caused Kadikistan to attack a small and weak neighbourcountry.” And more SMS-messages like that.
Furthermore, a few aeroplanes flew over the March for Neutrality with the same quotes as the SMS-messages.

The following days, billboards all over Bergenheim would contain advertisements presenting Professor Lansky as a Marxist-Leninovist, and presenting Marxism-Leninovism as an ideology that caused Kadikistan to attack and rob out its neighbours, and that would turn the country into one of the worst militaristic nations in the world. A massive advertisement campaign with the same messages was launched in the newspapers, on the radio, on TV and on the internet. Of course people were also made aware of the human rights situation in Kadikistan. The key message of this advertisement campaign was: “This is what Professor Lansky has in mind for Bergenheim in the name of Marxism-Leninovism: All your sons in the army where they will be forced to rob and rape in the name of Marxism-Leninovism, and the loss of all your personal freedoms.”
 

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Trivodnia had surrendered. Bourgogne was in retreat. On all fronts, the Rurikgard Pact had essentially triumphed. The world took a deep breath, waiting to see what would happen next. All of Germania was tense. Would the triumphant communists hold firm? Would the fighting continue in Occitania? On other fronts?

Those few days would turn into weeks, and then months. The Long Tension, historians would later call it, though it was a false distinction. As far as Lotti and the National Unity Government were concerned, they were at war with the Rurikgard Pact.

They just hadn't technically fired any shots at each other yet.

"Once Midweis has fallen, I predict that, presuming Phase Five has gone according to plan, it will be entirely feasible to continue governance and resistance from Anorstadt. The Engelhaupt Complex can comfortably house up to seven hundred personnel for as long as three months without re-supply. From there we have full CiC capabilities, independent power and water sources, and enough ammunition for small-arms and fixed gun defences to deter all incursion. With a depth of eight hundred feet, the command bunker is almost impossible to destroy with even the largest bunker buster munitions...."

Dour and horror-stricken faces looked at Lotti, as she calmly and without emotion continued her presentation on the planned contingencies for a Rurikgard invasion. Some had looked almost ready to vomit as she had outlined projected civilian casualty rates, with separate estimates for carpet-bombing, white phosphorous and chemical/biological weapon use, depending on the severity of Rurikgard attacks on all major Bergenheimer cities.

"Should we begin to run low on supplies, there are of course escape tunnels that lead beyond our nation's borders into what will still hopefully be friendly or neutral territory. Should those become nonviable.." Lotti allowed a sadistic smile at this. "We are well stocked with cyanide capsules as a last resort."

"Thank you, Frau General. That was a...very comprehensive presentation." Vogt said wearily.

"I was't finished, Archchancellor. Even without formal command structures, I believe informal guerrilla resistance could continue to operate against the Rurikgard occupiers from the mountains for up to five, maybe six years after the point of invasion. Longer if properly supported and supplied from abroad."


"This is all a waste of fucking time." snapped the First Judge, Weber. "Our First Fist's presentation is nothing we didn't already know. They invade, we all die, god preserve us."

"I am confident that with further funding we could expand projected casualty rates for the Rurikgard forces significantly upwards. If we can convincingly demonstrate a capacity to kill or incapacitate a force three or even four times larger than our own..."

Vogt cleared her throat loudly. "Thank you, Frau General. I said that would be all."

Lotti knew when to let her points sit, so she gave one of her little wolfish smiles, and sat back down. Many looked at her as if she was insane, the devil, or both.

These poor fools know nothing of war.

"
Vice-Chancellor, what was your impression of the...allies following the Midweis Conference?"

Kessler leaned forward, his eyes hard and flinty. "I believe dialogue is still ongoing, madam. But...truthfully..they each have their own, amazing plan for defeating the communists, a plan that involves all of us...but not necessarily our input."

Vogt sucked her cheeks. "I see. So in other words, despite our best efforts, they would all rather hang seperately."

Kessler shrugs. "Oh no, Archchancellor. They would be quite happy to have a Pan-Germanic Alliance. They just each want to be the ones in charge."

"And Eiffelland?"

Angela spoke up this time. "I was able to get in touch with some of their diplomatic corps." She coughed. No one needed to know just how much of the Midweis Conference she had, ahem, influenced.

"They seem the...sanest, Archchancellor. They're open to giving us more or less whatever want in resources or money, but..." she spread her hands, admitting defeat. "They lack the thing we all want most."

"Namely, seemingly endless reserves of manpower." Weber observed sardonically. "Was that the phrase you used First Fist?"

"I pointed out that this is -not- the case." she said firmly. "We do not need to defeat an army of six million. We simply need to show that the level of force that would need to be committed to our defeat is far more than they could ever comfortably spare. If we maintain a standing force of say, one hundred thousand, we would need merely to confidently project the ability to kill or wound as few as four or five hundred thousand of their front-line forces. Unlike Trivodnia, the terrain favours us. It took a little over a week to overwhelm a big flat country like the Free State. It would take as long as a month for them to reach Midweis, let alone Anorstadt, if all goes well."

"And what the cost of allowing such flagrant incursion? You said yourself we would be lucky to save a third of the populations of the Midweis, Midgard and Yharnam Cantons!"

Lotti shrugged. "Our enemies have not shown a preference for killing civilians, merely a disregard for what happens to them. Most casualties I project are due to secondary causes, such as disease or starvation."


"Enough." Vogt said again, with more force. They were all tired. Stretched. She hadn't slept a good night in a long time. "Our options are exhausted. If Eiffelland hasn't considered it yet...perhaps we should encourage them to do so. We may not be at war with the Pact, but the longer our biggest ally is, the worse the situation will get here."

"You want the Accord to surrender." Lotti said flatly.

"I want there to be peace." she said firmly. "We are not part of the Accord, but we are a key part of the Gallo-Germanic financial infrastructure. If they know whats good for their bank balances, they'll see reason."

Lotti sat back. "Are you sure its them who will suffer most in that situation?"

"I'd rather risk greater financial hardships than the scenario you propose, First Fist." she said coldly, losing her temper.

"Quite frankly, this has all gotten rather out of hand. Perhaps if you wish to remain in this government you could assist in calming the situation, mmm?"

"What are you implying, Archchancellor?"

"I'm saying, Frau General, that the baying mob of communists outside would be a lot less unruly if you hadn't stirred things up with all your Heimatsfront friends."

Lotti stiffened in suprise. Had Vogt found her spine at last...?

"I don't know what you mean, Archchancellor."

"I'm too tired for games. You will appear with me again, this time on BNTV. We will together answer the public's questions, quell these rumours, and you will publicly disavow any nationalistic affiliation. You are this government's minister, first and foremost. Is that clear?"

"Archchancellor-"

"Because if its not clear, you should check your position again. You are a young woman in an army whose core is old men. That they didn't want the burden of command two years ago when they let you be appointed instead does not mean the old wolves would not gladly take command if so offered now."

Lotti was much better at controlling her temper than Vogt seemingly was now. She simply calmly held the head of state's gaze as she was dressed down.

"Understood, Archchancellor." She said firmly, though inside she boiled with anger.

"Good. Now, on with the next point. First Secretary of the Treasury, you were going to explain why Trivodnia is causing our property market to implode..."
 

Bergenheim

Establishing Nation
Joined
Nov 27, 2016
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330
Location
Anor Londo
Capital
Midweis
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Vextra
Generals
Autumn leaves were blowing across the old parade-grounds at Konigsruhe now. Soon the snows would come again, but Degurechaff knew she would not be here to see them. A pity, but perhaps for the best. A drafty old palace like this was no place to raise a family. And, as much as she had run from it, buried herself in the work, there was no escaping that duty now. No escaping this conversation.

Lotti looked across the ornate dining table at her civil partner. She wasn't showing, not yet, but there was a thickness to her cheeks, a mousiness to her hair, subtle tells that a lover or a doctor could pick up on. Her wife was pregnant.

It was a strange feeling. All her life Lotti had played the tomboy, a role that had come easily enough to her. She had- rarely- made use of her feminity when it had been necessary, but in truth she had only ever been comfortable in the active role of a success. She could have been a salaryman, she supposed. It would have been a more comfortable existence. But as a orphan child living on the streets of Yharnam she had seen one such rich suited man, pushed in front of a speeding train by some manically grinning stranger.

It had been a horrifying thing to witness, but an instructive one. Death is everywhere, so you might as well greet him with a smile. And a loaded rifle.

From that day forward she had pushed herself always to be the best soldier. Always she had schooled herself to hide her fear and thoughts behind a trademark smirk.

Ein Husar lacht immer im Tod.

The motto of her first regiment, the 2nd Yharnam Hussars. She had transferred to the Jagdkommandos as soon as she was able, but she remembered their brash spirit, their willingness to let a sixteen-year old waif from the slums sign up and march with them. In other lands and other times, the Hussars were the second sons of gentry. Here, in Bergenheim, they were simply those who laughed at death, for whatever cause.

"Lotti." Natasha said softly, gently. The first words she had spoken all supper.

"You haven't said a word all evening. Are things that bad?"

Lotti looked up from her half-eaten goulash. She resisted the urge to give her wife a smile.

"Its time. I'm...sorry I didn't do this earlier." Lotti said, clearing her throat.

Death can be laughed at, time after time, but there's something you can't ignore. A duty she had never imagined, never understood.

"You have been...more patient than any woman I know, would ever be, with any fool man of hers. Forgive me."

Lotti rose slowly from the table. Her heart thundered in her chest. She had once been surrounded by six enemy soldiers in some stinking Himyari alleyway. She had fired first, and their bullets had merely grazed her, against all laws of physics and luck. This was a thousand times more terrifying. A thousand times more risky.

She lowered herself to her knees, and took Natasha's hands in her own. "I...know we are already married, civilly, by the laws of the Republic. And I know that you are content with that. But I was wondering...if perhaps you would do me the honour...of marrying me before the eyes of God."

Natasha rose her eyebrows. "But...you...I mean, well, you've told me about your belief in ah, God..."
She referred to Lotti's strange maltheistic conviction that the Tiburan God existed only as a malefic deity, and that prayers to him were tribute for favour, not pleas for mercy.

"Natasha...my dear Lieutenant..." she smiled naturally, wanly. "I mean to make an honest woman of you. For...for our child. I...I don't even understand it myself...I know we agreed to try using a surrogate but...the mind knows one thing, and the heart another."

"Lotti...You haven't spoken to me once about this since the duel, you know. I understood you needed time but...this is all so sudden..."

"You were right to challenge me that day. I have been laughing at death too long. Fighting God just to survive. It's time...time to consider other goals."

"You sound like a true gentleman, dear." She teased gently, to hide her own nerves.

She smiled again at that. "If you prefer I can wear the dress this time. Maybe your family would prefer it that way?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I have made my peace with them and their idiocy. I have decided we are not going to name our child after any of them."

"Bold. Might I suggest a name..?"

"Go on."

"Victor. For our victory." She smiled beatifically, not for death, but for life.

"Your food's getting cold, dear."

Lotti laughed, warmly, richly. "I have had enough of goulash. Do you have room for dessert?"

"Always."

And so, sweeping her increasingly heavy wife up in her arms, she carried her away to their suite, to enjoy some "dessert"....

END OF GENERALS
 

Bergenheim

Establishing Nation
Joined
Nov 27, 2016
Messages
330
Location
Anor Londo
Capital
Midweis
Nick
Vextra
Governments
Archchancellor Sigrid Vogt was tired. Very tired. She felt she had aged a decade in a year. Outside of her toasty office, she could see the first gossamer leaves of snow, beginning to sprinkle against the thick glass, and settle on the street below.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked at her watch. It was half past midnight. She had been burning the midnight oil too literally for too many nights. She had thought, perhaps, that with the crisis over, the National unity dissolved, her responsibilities reduced, that things might calm down. That she could focus on the productive, socially progressive, liberal policies she had entered politics to pursue.

By all rights, everything should be going her way. She had passed every law she'd proposed. She'd neutralised that nationalist fire-brand, Lotti Degurechaff, though perhaps more accurately her pregnant wife had. Her First Hand, Angela Zweigler, remained a popularly percieved blonde sex-kitten, whose diplomatic presence was warmly welcomed, if not taken terribly seriously.

She had the support of the Jewish community, who were increasingly strong and influential. They had money and manpower and the remnants of the Trivodnian State at their disposal. Few were tempted by Zionism or other extremist ideologies, and those who did have revanchist ambitions kept it quiet, and funnelled their resources to the Free Trivodnian Army and Popular Polesian People's Front, amongst other groups.

In short, the troubles building up in Bergenheim had a convenient safety valve. The Jews could vent their anger in the east, and the Germanians who were angry at the east could support her, to support them.

So why did she feel so tired? Why did she feel so weak?

She put down her pen, and looked at the scattered mountain of paperwork that still dominated her desk. She had a laptop, lapsed into screen-saver mode, but she was old, and preferred to do her paperwork by hand.

Not that old, surely. She thought. Still, though, a woman of her age, who looked as haggard as she did...no doubt there were many whispers about her health. Many who she had alienated in the Crisis with her forthrightness. Many who still thought of her as "bossy", as a housewife dictator. Such casual ageism and sexism rankled, but she couldn't entirely dismiss it.

Sighing, she resolved to turn in, and try to get an early night. She had plenty of work to do tomorrow. Fresh crises in Engellex. Trade agreements to seek. Bold plans to get the economy going, to allow more Aurarians into the once-closed Bergener banking sector.

No doubt there were many who hated her for allowing that, but this insular mountain republic needed some culture, for heaven's sake. She was sick of all the Little Bergener shit that went on. This country badly needed multiculturalism, and if she could could add paella to the holishke and goulash being sold on Midweis's streets, instead of just the universal sauerkraut, well, she would consider that a small victory.

She texted her husband to let him know she would be home soon, and she turned off her laptop, before alerting her secretary and the door security that she would be leaving for her private residence.

As she made her way down the dimly lit corridors, she thought how strange it was that she should be practically alone, in the heart of Bergenheim governance. How quaint and provincial this country still was, even now!

Still, it had its charms, she supposed. And as she wrapped her thick coat around her, bracing for the cold outside, she had to grudgingly concede that the snow was at least pretty, even if a damned nuisance.

The House of Burghers would disband for the winter soon, she knew. And that would ease a great deal of pressure. She could finally rest, and spend time with her husband, and perhaps even see her kids once or twice.

She was in such a good mood, even, she decided to write Lotti a Christmas card.

No hard feelings, right?

The Archchancellor of Bergenheim hurried down the steps, and her chaffeur opened the door on her cosy volkswagen. Just the two of them, on a midnight drive through the snow in Midweis. Any other country would have given her bodyguards and motorcades galore. But here, now, it was just her, her chaffeur, and the stragglers in the snow.

Maybe not everything needed to be changed about this place...

END OF GOVERNMENTS
 
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