Farmland of Contested Burgundy The oppressive heat of mother nature's sun pressed and burned down on Karl Heydendahl's skin, a lifelong inhabitant of a far northern island covered by cloud and snow for more months of the year than not. Sweating, and outside of a suit for the first time in too many months, Karl wiped his brow with a dirty glove sullied by planting Engellachian potatoes by hand in the remarkably rich soil of the Neustrians. A green thumb he was not, and he feared how obvious in photographs and video - should his counterpart von Goltz agree to release the media for public dissemination. Waving heartily, Karl removed a glove and ordered back the Heydendahl Defense Solutions mercenaries out of view of cameras. Reaching out his sweaty hand towards the Provisional Chairman, Karl greeted the Baron saying: "My Ostmarkische is two centuries out of date, and my references to this nation's language come from Marpesian antiquity. I can fetch an interpreter with respect to your tongue at haste, or engage in Engelsh as I speak now." On the periphery a cameraman continued to record video in high definition, panning the faces if unmasked, and comprised equipment and uniform of the contingent. The Engellachians intended to tout this meeting in the fields as a proof of commitment to the Burgundian breadbasket, but other benefits might yield from the earth as well, foremost being establishment of rapport with the one formidable and genuine claimant of the Burgundian shards (in Karl's view), the Burgundian People's Republic. "One day ships, planes, missiles, and men will arrive on my quaint island again" Karl offered without query, "this is the answer as to why I am here. I would join fight with them abroad, rather then allow Eisgarten and Engellachia as the play board."Karl winced and kicked the dirt beneath him, "I stand with you on the unfortunate board game of Greater Powers, and wish to lessen the suffering made to order by the nobility of Burgundy."