Legione della Marina [all invited]

[Potenza]

With the expansion of Potenzan interests overseas, especially in areas where conflict or potential rebellion was always possible, concerns had been raised by trade and mercantile elements of Potenzan society about possible attacks against these economic investments. Calls had been made for the Potenzan government to defend these interests. Initially, Prime Minister Gaetano Merlino desired to create an entire division for this very purpose, but Defense Minister Sergio Mattarella advised him that such an endeavor would be far too costly and unnecessary. A single battalion was preferred, comprising about 1,000 soldiers. If the experiment of sorts was successful enough, the unit could be expanded. In the interest of further cutting costs, it was decided that, unlike other units in the military, this battalion would comprise entirely of foreigners. In this manner, pay could be cut, and recruitment would not be dependent upon the local Potenzan populace.

A strange debate then erupted between the Regio Esercito (Royal Army) and the Marina Militare (Navy): who would have the honors of carrying this unit? Both the Army Chief of Staff, Generale Paolo Magro, and the Navy Chief of Staff, Ammiraglio Giampaolo Di Paola, desired to have the honors. In Magro's view, it was only natural that what consisted as a mainly ground force be under the command of the army. However, Di Paola argued that, with many Potenzan interests overseas, and with the Potenzan Merchant Fleet considered a civilian extension of the Potenzan navy, giving the unit to the Marina Militare would only be prudent. Soldiers and sailors both presented their case to Defense Minister Sergio Mattarella, but in the end it was Prime Minister Gaetano Merlino who made the final call. For the longest time, Merlino had desired to create another special unit of the military, one with the toughness of the Scipio's Own division, but the training of the Folgore. He had likewise desired to see an expansion of the Potenzan navy, outside its current role which was mainly one of a glorified coast guard. Finally the day came when Mattarella called the top ministry officials and the chiefs of staff of the military to a private meeting. Therein, he declared the the Prime Minister had decided to go to the navy, although the ranks within the unit would be similar to those in the army. In Di Paola's eyes, the navy had finally won a small victory, perhaps the greatest since Orange Cliffs.

With that debate finished, now came the need for a name. One proposal was the San Salvo Brigade, given that the unit would be stationed near San Salvo, wherein most people would probably be coming in via the San Salvo international airport. Others suggested the Venosa Brigade, given most of the training would be in the more rural areas of the Duchy of Venosa. It was a contrammiraglio who suggested a name that the room came to admire: the Legione della Marina (Legion of the Navy). It was noble enough to spark attention, which pleased the army and air force, and included the name of the navy, which pleased the navy.

Some initial rules and regulations were now needed for this region. What the men drew up in the meeting was quite simple:

1) Recruits from all nationalities, religions and ethnic groups were permitted.
2) Recruits were permitted to sign under pseudonyms if they so desired.
3) Recruits would be given slightly less pay as the average Potenzan enlisted man, along with benefits.
4) Recruits would declare allegiance to the Legion, rather than the Grand Duchy itself. However, acts of betrayal against the region would be treated as if they had betrayed the Grand Duchy itself.
5) If the recruits went through five years of service, they would be given the option of Potenzan citizenry.
6) Women would be permitted to serve, but mainly in reserve roles.

Next were drawn up the requirements for the recruitment process:

1) Arrival - Reception, confirmation of motivation, initial health test. Those who failed would be immediately deported.
2) Pre-selection - Signing renewable three-year contract, deployment to the Duchy of Venosa.
3) Training - Fifteen weeks were set aside for the training of the initial recruits, after which they would be given an official rank and declared deployable

"Are we certain that foreigners will join?" asked an officer.

Mattarella smiled and replied: "Given the current state of the world, do not be surprised at the desperation of man. When rumors are spread through our embassies into the streets of foreign countries, I am certain many will come to our fair grand duchy in the hopes of a guaranteed job and home." He shuffled through a folder beside him, bringing out a photograph of what seemed like a young Carabinieri officer who bore an eyepatch, a photograph which he shared to the rest of the room: "Now then, I have here the man who I expect to train these fresh and foreign recruits into tip top shape in no time. He's a Sergente in the Carabinieri, but he's been offered a capitano rank in the Legion. He goes by the name of Giorgio Monti."

"Why the eyepatch?"

"Oh yes that. He was fighting some mafia thugs when one of them sprayed a kind of chemical in his face. His eye irritated it so much he tore it out and threw it at the one who had attacked him."

"Wait," said an army officer, "Giorgio Monti...I think a friend of mine in the Law Enforcement Ministry told me about him. He's infamous for hating everything."

"Yes," Mattarella replied, "he hates the rich, he hates the poor, he hates his countrymen and he especially hates foreigners...that's why he's perfect."

The Foreign Ministry sent out a message to all the Potenzan embassies in foreign lands, to present advertisement to the people in their designated lands - whether it was by funding advertisements, hanging posters on their walls, or even by rumor on the street, in the bars and slums...the promise of pay, employment, and a possible future through service in the Potenzan Legione della Marina was dispatched.

OOC: As suggested in the title, all are welcomed to come, RPing their own individual nationals who might be interested in joining. I made this thread with the goal of doing interactive character RP, and to do this inside Potenza for some interaction with the culture and give people a chance to experience it. I'm hoping people will be interested in it, and it continues for a good while.

 

[Havenshire]

Joseph Penberthy was a Carnishman, born and bred in the Fen Villages that surrounded the Greathamptonshire area. He too had grown up aspiring to be a Tin Miner, or a Pitch-Cutter, or if he was really ambitious a Sheep-farmer. But like many of his minority ethnic status, he had been forced to flee in the aftermath of the Havenshire Civil War. The Carnish Cadorans had tried, foolishly, to carve out a small domain in opposition to both Royalists and Communists. They had died like fools, martyring themselves for a cause that the Communists cared not for. So those Carnish who had stayed were subject to total re-education, their names, heritages stripped away. Speaking Carnish became a crime. Worshipping God or any Pagan deities was a life sentence doing menial labour. The Penberthys had been wise, fleeing on steamers crammed with refugees, which had spread out across the world, joining the great Havenite Diaspora. Whilst many headed to Providence, Sylvania or other parts of Occidentia, others went east, into the Old World.

Now Penberthy was a Stevedore, drinking his life away, in a hot country full of dagos who hated him. He wanted something more. This...LLegione della Marina...he considered it, downing another shot of cheap whiskey. Not as good as the home-country stuff, but Havenshire didnt export much Carnish Whiskey anymore. Certainly not to a place like Potenza.
"Maybe we shouldsha never left the Old Country, Joe. Looksh at us, wastin our lives away, carrying cargo for bossy dagos." Slurred Joesphs's friend, Louis Spencer-Percy. Though born to Havenshire's aristocracy, Louis had somehow ended up in Potenza, washed-up, no family, no income, no friends. He'd gotten the shift next to Penberthy, and partly out of pity for the out of place poshboy whose world had been destroyed, and perhaps out of a weird sense of kinship, they'd become fast friends. Now they drank together, and though both men were well into their thirties, neither was married. Neither had much future.
"Maybe we should...join the Legion. Start over. Boss dagos and expats around." Penberthy mumbled, slamming back more whiskey.
"Yesh! With your..your...experience, they'llmakeyouanofficer for sure *hic*"
"Fuck, yeah. I can say I wash a Cadoran. S-stormed the walls of Walkerton, didn't I. Where I got my scar from."
"Yeah! I'm former King's Own me. Spency-Percer, I mean, Spencer-Percy, looskh ush up, we were real veterans werent we Joe."

And so it went into the Night.

==============
Joe groaned, as the rays of the sun hit his aching eyes. He tried to move, but every muscle felt on fire. He rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Where the fuck was he, the drunk-tank again? He moaned longer, and heard anwsering moans. Louis, the posh bastard. In here with him? Patting himself down for a cigarette, he discovered his clothes were gone. Instead he was wearing something entirely unfamilliar. "Oh..fuck...what did we do?"

"Buongiorno. Awake I see? Welcome to the Legione, Ubriaci."

 

[The Federation]

"Stop!" The cop yelled out, the shadows of Baldwin-Whitehall's skyscrapers added to the lawman's already menacing persona, his partner appeared from behind the one who yelled out, truncheon in hand. "You better stop now Redmond, or I'm gonna beat you so hard your brains'll be leaking out your ears. The officer's false Trans-Thumantic accent irritated Redmond immensely, he was no friend of the law, but this time he had no idea why Golden Boy and his brown-nosing partner where after him.

"I don't want any trouble, man. I'm just walking back from the store for cryin' out loud." Redmond yelled back his heart racing as the two officers crept ever closer.

"Ya really fucked up this time Red, you're gonna get it no matter what; you run and I pound you till your face is paste in street, come quietly and I might only just bruise ya a bit." Golden Boy laughed excitedly at the thought.

Redmond stood to his full height, raised his arm, bent it at the elbow and slapped his other hand onto his bicep. He took off running at full speed after seeing Golden Boys ugly face scrunch with anger, his pissant partner showing a look of surprise. They chased after him, their heavy footfalls accentuated by the alley way they ran through.

"I'll goddam kill ya Red!" he yelled after him. The officers were gaining on him, their experience chasing Sucrecian criminals through the dark, night time alleyways of the city giving them the advantage. Redmond came face to face with a dead end, he wasn't familiar with this part of town. He turned, Golden Boy stopped when he saw Red was trapped, Brown-noser continued to charge at Red, when within striking distance Red used the junior officers' momentum to his advantage, slamming him into the brick wall behind him, his peaked cap flinging through the air. Brown-noser was out cold and Red turned to see Golden Boy's truncheon bearing down on him. He instinctively raised his arm to deflect the blow the truncheon driving itself deep into his forearm, an audible cracking could be heard as it broke his arm completely. Red cried out in pain only to have his screams cut short but a quick follow up shot to his stomach. Golden Boy must have been preparing for this moment, after all he had been going after Redmond since he walked into the city via highway six. Red's lunch rocketed out of his mouth as the flashbacks of Golden Boy yelling at him on their first encounter crossed his mind. "No vagrants in my sector, no vagrants in my city. This is a working man's city, no lazy, rural, white trash hick is welcome in this city of progress and industry."

Red had, for a Milli-second, wondered if Golden Boy would have treated him differently had he known Red was from Duquesne. It was a small city, but a city no less. In truth though, it would never have mattered, Red was destined to be at odds with the law wherever he went and Golden Boy was born for a lifetime of powertriping. They were polar opposites, butting heads for all eternity and in every future life; if you believed in that sorta thing. Red's vision returned, partly obscured by pavement and puke....


Redmond woke up, the jolt from the train he was on kicked him out of his dream. His arm ached a bit as his body remembered the chase those many months ago. "San Salvo" he thought, he had heard many stories about the place, mostly about the pool of exotic ladies he could sample from, but what really caught his interest was the legion, a chance to see the world and have your name be nothing more than a blank slate for them to work upon. Anything was better than carefully walking the streets of Baldwin-Whitehall, trying to avoid whatever beat Golden Boy and friend had taken up that day. He'd never see him again if this legion thing worked out, maybe even never see Sylvania again and that was alright by him. The land of forest and mystery had taken all it could from him no matter how hard he tried to carve out his own little piece of it.

The Legion's office stood in front of him, it's stone edifice dared him to step through the building's door, a dare he was more than willing to take at this point in his life. He didn't care what he was in for, or that he knew a grand total of five phrases in the Potenzan language, two of which were solicitations for sex to use on any half-way attractive woman he came across. When he crossed the threshold into the interior, the entire room screamed at him "MISTAKE" however it was too late for warnings now as he quickly found himself at a desk with a broken pencil and a form in another language....

 

[Ashkelon]

Ksenia adjusted her cap as she got off the train. Looking around the station as she proceeded to the exit, she briefly wondered to herself what drove her to traverse thousands of miles of rail track from Jastrowie to this city. She had a good life. No, she had a great life. Her family owned a substantial portion of the petroleum giant OilSarmatia, and her father served on the board. Home was comfortable. She had even made an excellent impression with her superiors after serving a full two-year term in the Federal Army with a gusto, in order to earn her franchise. Sure, she didn't really like any of the candidates who had shot for office over the years, but she was keeping her hopes up. Maybe one day, some fine, upstanding representative, a true Sarmatian, in the traditional sense of the word, would appear.

Of course, she didn't really stay around long enough to see who would be up for the Orazvoczieman Republic elections this time around. When the Federal Network announced the Miroslavan invasion, she packed her things and moved to their Wyrzyski vacation home, far from those oil fields that blessed them with wealth, and at the same time condemned them to the status of a high priority target for Miroslavan bombers. Last she'd heard, the fighting was bitter, and both the Federal and Confederate Armies were falling back in a slow and painful retreat.

Ksenia looked around the city of San Salvo, a more direct descendant of the glorious Tiburan Empire that helped civilise her people. It was indeed a magnificent display, from the architecture, to the nature. The young woman smirked. Yes, there was no mistake. When she found that ad in the Guardian, she understood that she didn't just sign on to the Army for the sake of franchise. No, she had a natural desire for adventure. This was the same reason why, despite the fact that the electronics store she had set up in Wyrzysk was off to an excellent start, and well on its way to breaking even, Ksenia had once again packed her bags, and this time taken the long trip to this very city.

"'Mainly in reserve roles'", she muttered to herself as she reread the newspaper clipping, snorting at the idea. While she could not exactly claim that Federal Army was much more progressive, at the very least they allowed women to serve in active duty formations should they prove themselves (She had of course proven so during basic training, and spent her service term patrolling the forested southern border with Miroslavl). It was only fair, considering that it was a woman who brought ancient Cerulunia back from the brink of destruction and made the rise of the Golden Imperium possible. To deny the role of women in war while parading a woman's sword on every piece of military insignia in the Union was hypocrisy of the highest degree! In fact, her connections told her that a new movement was brewing in Giecz, one that, if its cries were heard and conceded to by the Federal Government, would allow far more equality than in previous eras, equality that would make St. Weronika herself smile with joy from above.

Ksenia briefly crossed herself as she passed by a parish on the way to the Legion's office. A brief prayer ran through her mind as she besought St. Weronika to intervene and allow her to prove that she was meant for better things than reserving around a command centre or dealing with logistics all day for the next three years. She wanted to see all that the Legion had to offer! Ksenia marched up the steps of the office and made her intentions known.

Soon enough, she found herself suited up and ready to face the challenges presented by this foreign Legion.

 

[Natal]

Raisa looked around a little before approaching the door of the wagon. As she passed the small sign showing the destination of the train, San Salvo, she entered the wagon and going through the hallway to find her place in one of the compartments she was thinking of how would her life change after she will arrive in the capital. Of course people were talking and saying that military life is hard and full of terrors and no man in his right mind would join it, but it shouldn’t be worse than living at the limit of subsistence. She, a Gorski, living in such a way and eager to join a military unit specially created for the foreigners… She didn’t know if her ancestors would be sad or proud of her because of this move. Maybe they would be proud, of course because of this move, her life evolved a little… She found the compartment and saw that her reserved ticket was at the window. She hung her small bag on the hanger and looked outside… so, her life evolved… we can say much after a certain episode around two years ago.

He mother days around three years ago and as an inheritance she received some money, but the situation wasn’t very rose, as a year later… she even… Raisa didn’t want to remember that. Let’s say she did some favors for money. After around a week working like this, she was disgusted. She felt her intimacy invaded my men who only saw her as an object in exchange for enough money to buy some bread and sausages for dinner. Only after that her pride appeared again between her confused feelings and she asked herself: “How come a Gorski, A GORSKI, once the most powerful house in Parthava and Swieczemia to sell herself to such men who normally would have kissed her shoes for mercy… That would have been if she lived 40 years earlier and if a certain episode in Parthian history didn’t take place.

It was the moment when the Gorski family fell. In early 1800s, Czar Edvard I was dying. Everyone knew that he was ill, everyone knew that he didn’t had a child, everyone suspected him of being gay. Raisa was angry because of this. She didn’t had a problem with a dead king being gay of not, she didn’t care whom she fucked, but in her eyes, he is a coward and an egoist. If he really cared for the Raven Throne as an institution like how all those retarded diehard monarchists believe, why didn’t he made the “sacrifice” to fuck a woman, and have a child. In the meantime, he could have fucked anyone he wanted. The fact that he didn’t have a child wasn’t really important for her. Why would she care for a dead king who didn’t have a child? What she really pissed her off and she believed that pissed off her ancestors too was why did he do that retarded thing on his deathbed?

As he was close to death, Czar Edvard I proclaimed as heir a nobody. No one ever heard of Maksym Andrushenko. Even if the dying Czar and many of the courtiers said that Maksym is a bastard of Edvard, everyone knew that he was the son of Edvard’s lover. She was again disgusted. How can a man, no, a czar fall so much? Foster no child, dedicate yourself body and soul to a man who is such a coward that he couldn’t even tell his wife that he is actually the mistress of the big great boss? “If I was her, she thought, I would have allowed my husband to have such a relationship, with the condition that I receive some nice gifts from the Raven Throne, a villa on the Democrația Boulevard in Dara, some gold jewelries, money… but to know that my son would be the future Czar…” she sighed. So, Edvard declared Maksym heir. No one really knew what happened with his father, but it’s not important. The most important thing is that normally, if the Czar had no child, the most rich of the noble houses would have taken the Raven Throne, this means that us, the Gorski family should have been there in Altaisk giving laws and ruling Parthava. But how could a man hope to see laws respected when one knows people like the Tomaszewski or the Dabrowski? The traitors! They supported this whole circus!

My ancestors did then the right thing. They rebelled. But they did it with the wrong people and did some grave mistakes. Firstly, instead of them being in the front row and asking for their rightful position as czars, they allied with some forgotten offspring of the old Abari dynasty. How could they believe that they can win and take the throne when they present themselves as the supporters of a hated Muslim extremist family who ruled Parthava long before and did only things that made them hated by everyone? But this is nothing compared to the Dialgorod massacre. I can’t believe that my ancestors have supported such an action. The killing of half of the population of the Diagist Holy City… It is outrageous. Now if I am looking back, there is no wonder that Maksym, who crowned himself Czar Edvard II, defeated us and became famous and loved by everyone…

“Buy the latest Il Ducato! In international news, the People’s Council of Parthia provokes again Talemantros by giving asylum to communists!” the man who passed through the hallway of the wagon screaming his adverts for the newspaper made her return to real life. She didn’t observe that the compartment was by now full. Actually, why am I thinking about revenge? The real Demians are dead. They died with the love story of Edvard I. Incredible… to love someone so much that you renounce your duty as Czar to continue the dynasty… The people who call themselves now Demians are the successors of Edvard II and they are related to Dragan and Edvard I just by their name and they also renounced their claims to the Raven Throne. Actually, after 1945… the Raven Throne exists no more. It’s an ended chapter in Parthian history. A chapter which will remain closed even if nostalgic people like me and people whose lives are led by “what if?” questions, again, like me, would like to open it again. The Tomaszewski and Dabrowski families have also renounced their position as nobles and allied with the socialists. If the people accepted them, they won’t accept us, the Gorski. We hurt them too much. I should not think of Parthava as my home anymore. My eyes should now be turned to Potenza. Maybe my children will live in other times. Times in which maybe they would return and say to the people that we are sorry for what our ancestors have done.

As the train started to roll, she stopped thinking at the past and for the first time she was thinking at the future.

 

[Potenza]

Things had gone along smoothly (or at least as smoothly as any military action could go) since the creation of the Legion. The incoming foreign nationals were large in number, and from a variety of backgrounds. Some of the navy officials noted the pale complexion of those from the west, combined with the more noble features of those from Himyar. Some would have stood out in a crowded room in San Salvo, while others would have gotten along fine, and some would have probably felt more comfortable in the northern Duchy of Treviso, where few people had the darker looks most associated with Potenzans. As might have expected, most of them were men, but a good number were women, and that had been expected. Many were eager to sign up, but were turned down by the medical and psychological exams that followed. One burly man who demanded he could still perform despite his girth toppled over the table of the doctor and had to be promptly escorted out (kicking, screaming and most of all sweating) by a team of Carabinieri. Thankfully, such events were few and far between.

To the west, in the rural Duchy of Venosa, the navy was already preparing things for the recruits. An old, worn down army barracks had been converted into a partially functional base, complete with fence and barbed wire. Admiral Di Paola was busy personally organizing everything, making certain that the navy would not lose what little they had thus far gained. This organization included making certain there were living arrangements for the officers who would take charge. In the end, the battalion would be made up of three companies, with a lieutenant in charge of each one (this somewhat broke from the army tradition, but Di Paola's mindset was one of "shove it" if the army didn't like it). Each one had been hand selected from the naval academy for having scored well and shown themselves capable of command.

The first one was Lieutenant Angiolo Accorso. He was a strapping looking young man of good fit, who had excelled in sports during his time at the academy and who probably would have gone on to play baseball or tennis if he hadn't been in the military. He was perhaps the most casual of the officers - a real "man's man" who wasn't afraid to sit down and have a drink at the pub with you if you were so inclined. Once the uniform went off, you would have sworn he was an enlisted man.

The second one was Lieutenant Edmondo Baggio. He was the quietest among the Legion's officers, and kept to himself unless directly addressed or he felt like he was in comfortable company. His father was actually the well respected and admired Capitano di Vascello Baggio, who was due for promotion to Ammiraglio di Divisione soon (as soon as the ministry, and then the prime minister and grand duke, approved it). He came from a long line of men who had served in Potenza's navy, but for him personally he had despised living in his father's shadow. Part of the reason he had agreed to take the Legion command was to make his own mark, one where his name would send people back to him and his career, not his father's.

The third one was Lieutenant Luciano Di Pasqua. He was actually a fairly tall young man, and would have easily stood out in a room, teetering over six feet. Despite his tall and somewhat domineering demeanor, he was, like Angiolo, a fairly likable man. He had a soft spot for children and enjoyed working with people, often being selected to lead visiting officials or tourists around the academy halls. Around Christmas he even dressed up as Santa and went to the hospitals near the academy, visiting sick children and delivering gifts.

There are perhaps two other men who are of worthy note, both with minor roles, though just as important in the development of the Legion.

The first is Lieutenant Bernardo D'Amore, who would lead the support company. This was expected to be comprised mainly of women, and the navy high command felt he could be trusted around the opposite gender. There were rumors this was due to homosexual tendencies, but this was actually because of an event that happened at an academy Christmas party, where Bernardo was serving as an aide. At the party, a high ranking captain's wife got too drunk and, for one reason or another, ended up naked in another room. When Bernardo discovered this, he immediately took off his cadet tunic and - walking backwards - laid it on the wife. The captain, upon hearing the story, thought this was a cover up for something far more sinister that Bernardo had done, and was threatening to prevent him from ever holding a command position. Bernardo contested this, and the case went to Di Paola himself, right as the admiral was selecting command positions. Di Paola took Bernardo's side, and gave him the command of the Legion's support unit.

The second was Captain Donato Abandonato. Unlike the other four men, he would not serve any direct command - he was an ordained Tiburan Catholic priest who held rank in the Grand Duchy's chaplaincy corps. He was assigned to the unit as the standard spiritual guide, although he was well aware many of the people in the Legion may not be of the Tiburan Catholic faith (let alone Christian faith). He would still serve to give emotional and personal support to the recruits, even if it was as a psychologist and not a Father Confessor. Unlike most of the other officers, he was in his late 40's and had served for considerable time in the military, making him one of the older officers in the Legion (save perhaps Monti).

The mess hall, the front gate, the barracks...everything seemed ready. Di Paola double checked the date on a wall calendar. In a few days, the buses would leave San Salvo with all the recruits aboard. They would be driven here directly and unloaded, where they would be greeted by the officers and divided into their respective companies. For a moment, the admiral pondered to himself just what the recruits would think upon arrival.

 

[Ashkelon]

Ksenia could barely contain her excitement as she boarded the bus to Venosa. That was... somewhere even further to the west, if she wasn't mistaken in reading the map. Fortunately, a commonality between Swiecziemans and Potenzans was how they both used the Tiburan alphabet. Even if she could barely understand the vernacular, she could at least make an educated guess. And well, the officer giving the briefing was kind enough to point it out on the map, for those who might have had such a deficiency. She'd eaten up that phrasebook while on the train to San Salvo. Her new career depended on it. While she took up some Tiburan during her University years, she had mostly forgotten it, and that phrasebook was clearly an essential crash review.

Now, the oil barony heiress might have been very excited over the prospect that they were finally moving out to train, she couldn't look any more opposite of that. No, on the outside, Ksenia wore a professional poker face, and she would fit right in with the group of people on the same bus who carried mostly blank expressions, mostly because they were neither excited, nor worried about the prospects of being shipped off west to train for this service that they probably signed up with because they were drunk or something, not because they actually wanted to.

The fact that the buses weren't segregated according to gender said much about how the Potenzans had their policies with regards to that particular issue. Not that she had anything against it. It was certainly more progressive, and even Weronika's Army pushed for such reform, but she couldn't help but wonder if it would work out in the end. After all, one needed to consider how men - and admittedly some women - were just too eager to perform unscrupulous "inter-gender activities" sometimes. Ksenia was of course above such dirty play. The last time somebody had hit on her was during her term in the Federal Army. Some relatively-skinny private during KW7 training who kept trying to impress her (or was he trying to impress the instructor?) with showy moves, and then asking her out for dinner. When it was time to step onto the mat with him, she made sure that he understood she was in no way interested in his offer.

Ksenia sat down next to a tall man, of light complexion. He seemed quiet enough, but the young woman would not have that. Not on this bus trip. Surely, he would be open to a short chat? Never mind that he probably didn't speak the same language as she did. But then at the very least, he would have some basic Tiburan, right? Otherwise, he would not have made it past the form. There really was only one way to find out.

She started with a simple comment. "Buongiorno! Ready to step up in the Legion?"

(OOC: If my description isn't spot on, it's because I only derived it from context clues. But I mean for that to be your guy, Zeke.)

 

[The Federation]

Redmond sat on the bus staring out the window at nothing in particular, he had somehow managed to figure out the form, sign it and get himself recruited into a foreign legion of a country he had never been to. It was his first time out of country and everything he knew was nothing like what he saw and experienced now. He felt something brush up against him for just a second, a piece of someones clothing probably, but his thoughts kept him from caring to see who or what it was that had joined him in the seat he had chosen. Suddenly a nervous feeling came over him as the sounds of the day brought him out of his racing thoughts. He turned slowly to see a woman had sat next to him and was currently trying to engage him in conversation. The way she spoke was completely alien to him, sounding for a second like something out of one of those 1 cent sci-fi comic books the corner store sold. His first real contact with someone not Sylvanian was just about to go as well as if he had actually been transported to a space alien's planet.

"Buongiorno! Ready to step up in the Legion?" She said with a muted enthusiasm.


"Uhhh... Umm... Shit." He said quietly as the seconds passed into awkwardness.


"Uhh, Bonjurrrrno," he said attempting to respond. It hadn't helped that she was right next to him either, now looking at him with a puzzled stare. She had a refined look about her, like she didn't come from the common cloth, educated, well spoken and probably had money unlike him. He racked his brain whilst attempting to decipher what she had said, something about the legion. "Uhh, yea, legion exciting," he said attempting to speak Tiburan, adding a nervous "n'at" at the end of his sentence.

"This is going to be a disaster, I've made a huge mistake, gonna end up a poor bum in Potenza." His thoughts were fragmented as her confused stare now bore directly into his skull.

 

[Ashkelon]

"Uhh, yea, legion exciting, n'at."

Ksenia held back the feeling of wanting to laugh - with a lot less effort than one might expect - as the man fumbled with his Tiburan. At least he was able to get that much. In fact, that was an improvement over having to fight an uphill battle to get the conversation to "how do you feel about the legion?" He skipped the bush completely and told it to her straight, probably because of how she said it? That said, Ksenia was honestly puzzled at how he managed to fill out that form correctly. This confusion was clearly visible on her face. Did he make it through trial and error? Did the officers have enough patience to help him through the whole process? Maybe give him a new form whenever he messed up, having seen his eagerness? Well, perhaps To be fair, it wasn't the simplest question she'd asked him, but it wasn't exactly poetry either. And as long as one could fill out that form, maybe how much you knew didn't really matter.

If anything, she could probably be able to help him out if she was familiar with his mother tongue. Depending on it was, at least. Ksenia had dreamed of becoming a translator, and so took up several linguistic courses, including, aside from Tiburan, Danish, German, Yujiner, and a little Engellexic (English?) on the side. It all boiled down to seeing the world, and, how could one appreciate the many countries of the world if she did not understand their language? It was the same reason she had gone off on this adventure as well. While things in University didn't work out as she'd hoped, there still lived that certain flame. When she set up that electronics store, she intended to expand internationally when the time came... but still, it seemed that the times after that when she served in the Army had made her rusty in all of those.

Well, that was why there were gestures and charades. Shifting from puzzlement to a smile, she pointed at herself, and tried to keep it simple, still sticking to her base Tiburan. "Me, Ksenia," she then pointed to the east, as the bus started to move. "From Sarmatia."

The oil heiress then gestured at the man, who seemed to be swimming in a sea of his own thoughts, clearly at a loss, owing to this great communication barrier between them. "You?"

(OOC: Funny story. Basing a lot of Ksenia's character on a friend of mine from Austria. Basically the only thing she isn't is oil rich, but she's a lot better than Ksenia at omniglotting.)

 

[Potenza]

The new recruits were due to arrive soon. When they did, their buses would pull into the training field, they would be asked to come out and stand in several lines, and the women would be sectioned off from the men in their own formation. From there, they would be addressed by their new commanding officer and then assigned into their individual companies.

Most of the officers were there, save for Giorgio Monti, whom no one could find. Supposedly he was on the base, but he was not in his office nor his quarters. He had remained something of a mystery to the inferior officers, as none had been given a chance to meet him, and none had yet seen him outside of photographs. It seemed like his very existence was only confirmed by the hearsay of their superior officers and the high command of the royal navy.

"Where is Lieutenant Accorso?" asked the chaplain, Abandonato. He had arrived early, before everyone, and spent the early part of the day attending his rosary. This same rosary was now in his hand, dangling from his thumb and fingers. His thumb would absentmindedly rub against it, keeping a quiet count as he continued to walk around and engage with others.

With the chaplain were the lieutenants Baggio and Di Pasqua, and the lieutenant D'Amore was not too far behind. The latter had kept mostly to himself, admiring the rolling hills around the base, some with forests and some bare, with others covered with the vineyards that grew the wine that, for some, made Potenza famous. One might have thought he was shy, but he was a young man who tried to limit his speech to what had to be said, not what was felt to be said.

It was Lieutenant Di Pasqua who answered the chaplain's question, "I think I saw his car over by the lake. I'll go get him."

Di Pasqua departed from the group, exiting through the front gate and making his way towards the large lake that was not too far off. On the opposite end he could recognize Accorso's car, resting quietly as if the lieutenant was having a nap in the bright sun and cool winter day.

"Hey!" shouted Di Pasqua. "Accorso! Hey! Accorso! You're needed back!"

An arm reached out of the back passenger window and then disappeared again. Di Pasqua smirked to himself as he turned to leave, but stopped short when he saw someone who was definitely not Accorso exiting the vehicle. A young, dark-haired woman - probably some local - was leaving the other side of the car, fixing her dress and then darting up the hill into a nearby forest. A few seconds later Accorso was leaving the vehicle - fixing his dress pants - and getting into the driver's seat.

"Oh boy!" was all Di Pasqua said as he lowered the brim of his army cap over his eyes and made his way back to the base.

 

[The Federation]

"Me, Ksenia," she then pointed to the east, as the bus started to move. "From Sarmatia."

"You?


Redmond played with the words in his head for a moment and replied, "I Redmond Hale." He pointed west like she had pointed east. Sylvania. Home." He finished with a stutter.

Sarmatia... He had heard a lot of the place back home in the news, in the speeches. Fascists at war with the communists, his home government did not like either very much.

"They say.... uhh, bad things at home.... On Sarmatia. Fascist. At war.... communist."

"Bad things" was an understatement, the media machine back home characterized the fascists from Sarmatia as monsters and zealots, though their own propaganda machine didn't help much on the zealots part. This woman, Ksenia, didn't seem so bad though, although he had never met a Sarmatian before so he had nothing to compare her with in reality. He quickly sized her up the way a denizen of the streets would do, she seemed rich and well educated by the look of how she held herself, perhaps knew a few things about fighting from her life back home. He could tell she was doing the same at this moment, most likely making fun of his language deficiency while she was at it.

 

[Ashkelon]

"I Redmond Hale." He pointed west like she had pointed east. Sylvania. Home."

Ah, Sylvania. That explained the accent, at least. The colony that lost its master and grew into a powerful multi-ethnic republic in its own right, now dominant in the affairs of the Occident. They were also, according to the Federal Network, populated by paranoid "freedom-hoggers" who loved putting their armed forces on high alert at the slightest hint of anything they considered a threat to their liberty. Now that she knew where he came from and a good guess of what he spoke, she could shift her language appropriately. English first. A little rusty, but at least he didn't have to struggle so badly. And if she spent more time listening to tongue he was comfortable with, she would no doubt get better at that as well.

"Nice to meet you." Ksenia thought briefly to herself about this before Red continued.

"They say.... uhh, bad things at home.... On Sarmatia. Fascist. At war.... communist."

To this, she giggled. "Bad things, huh? I can imagine." While the Union mostly paid attention to its own affairs, that is to say, the war on communism and its push to grow, it occasionally got a glimpse of Sylvania itself through allied media, such as the Danish news. "Yes, we at war with communists. The government hate communists."

But that was Sarmatia in general. What about Ksenia Kaminska? "I'm a adventurer. Want see the world." She made a circular gesture. "Explore countries, study languages. Like now."

 

[Natal]

A meeting between the eastern fascist and the democratic westerner. She was amused of that, but if she would be asked, Raisa wouldn’t know what to respond. What is she? A Parthian? Does she have to right to still call herself like that? Her family hurt the Parthian people to much, the Diagist religion even more.

Maybe a Potenzan? She was born in Potenza, she knew the Tiburan language, and she was raised as a Potenzan woman. But she wasn’t one of them. She was different. Always different from the others. An exile, a parasite and so on.

She looked how the Sarmatian woman was talking with the Sylvanian guy. She seemed to be very motivated and full of life, while he seemed… very confused. It was a culture shock. People from all kinds of places, from the other part of the world came to Potenza for god knows what reason and ended up in this foreign legion.

As the busses arrived at the military base and the recruits were entering formation and the women were separated from the men, Raisa knew that her identity would be created here.

 

[Potenza]

"Here they are," Di Pasqua said. He was referring to the caravan of buses carrying the Legion recruits, which had just appeared over the nearby hill and were coming down the dusty road towards the base. As the buses drew near, Accorso came running over to the group of officers, adjusting the belt of his uniform and his officer's cap.

"I'm not late, am I?" the lieutenant asked.

"Not at all," Baggio replied, "but where's Monti?"

The supposed fearless leader of the Legion had not yet appeared. The young officers began to feel a nervousness in their belly, and Abandonato, though not showing any outward emotion, began to stroke his rosary with a bit more intensity. Accorso, trying to make small talk (and relax from his recent...excursion), turned to Baggio and remarked that he admired his father. The younger Baggio waved his hand, saying it was nothing, immediately dismissing it, perhaps a bit rudely in the taste of some, but not enough to offend Accorso (though it wasn't easy to offend Accorso). Most of the other officers were watching the buses as they permitted in by the naval military police at the gate. The buses came to a stop and the doors opened. Out they came...the fresh new recruits of a fresh new unit in the Potenzan military.

"Line up!" the three main lieutenants shouted in Tiburan, waving their arms and trying to guide those who perhaps were not keen on the local language yet. "Line up! Men on one side, women on the other! Several lines deep! Line up! Line up! Now!"

As the recruits took their formations under the guidance of their future commanders, D'Amore had his eyes on the female recruits as they went into their side. Not out of lust, of course, but rather studying their moves, attitudes, and whether any could possibly have potential for anything more than auxiliary support. D'Amore had the intention of choosing some select women for a greater use than making sure the radios worked or the trucks were fueled. Dust rose up a bit as the recruits shuffled back and forth, and a few had to be prodded by the lieutenants to get them to line up properly. When the formation had finally been put in place, the three company commanders backed up and did last minute checks, it was then that an unexpected sound was heard. The sound of a door opening and closing was heard not too far from the formation, and when Di Pasqua turned around to see what was going on, he immediately turned back, snapped his boots together into a smart salute, and cried out:

"ATTENZIONE!"

The other Potenzan officers did likewise. As naval officers, they knew what this meant. Their commanding officer was here. Captain Monti had arrived.

The commanding officer of the Legion and the base commander stepped smartly towards the formation. His height was less than standard, perhaps a little smaller than his inferiors, and while not ugly he was hardly a handsome, dashing figure. There was also, of course, that eye patch, supposedly covering the spot where an eye had been personally plucked out in the midst of street combat. This Captain Monti stood at attention before the recruits, and began his opening address, speaking in English:

“You have arrived for the initial training for membership to the Legion. After these weeks of training, you will be given the uniform of the Legion and sworn in to duty.”

That was the “official” opening any way. Monti scoured the collection of ethnic groups and races, noting that some were looking at him strangely. Indeed, Monti was not an overly impressive man. As was stated before, he was of average height, of average build, and with no distinguishing features on his face, save for the eyepatch. Sensing their looks thusly, Monti decided to go about this the way he wanted. Now he would speak to them from the heart. Now he would speak to them with no official tones, but with likewise no restraint or remorse. And so he added:

“What did you expect to see when you came here? A dashing, tan-skinned man like out of the cinema? Well, welcome to the real Potenza, you dumb fuckheads. We shit and we vomit like any other piece of filth in the world does, and contrary to popular belief most of our women look like dung dangling limply from a cow’s asshole.”

Seeing he had properly gotten their attention, Monti continued:

“Ah, what did you expect when I began to speak, hm? Kind words, maybe? A friendly ‘Welcome to the Grand Duchy’? Perhaps a rousing speech about how you are all warriors? Some talk about how I’m your father, and you’re all my children? Take those aspirations and shove them up your ass. Deep. I don’t care. I only use those kinds of words when I see someone deserves them. Oh, you’ve noticed my one eye. How astute of you. But it wouldn’t take a blind man to see you’re all a miserable bunch of garbage poured out of the slums of other nations. Whatever idiocy led you here, shove that up your ass even deeper. You fucked some girl and got her pregnant? Got banished by your parents? Got fired from your job for being a worthless shit? Had to flee some civil war that happened because your people are immense fuck ups? I don’t give a damn either way. I’m not your mother, and even if I was I’d have hung myself long ago for having bred you. I won’t give any sympathy. I’m here to see that something comes of you.”

Now Monti began to pace about the ranks, standing only a foot before the front row as he continued to speak:

“As this may be your first time in the Grand Duchy, permit me to give you a little education about the pecking order around here. First comes His Royal Majesty, our Grand Duke, that limp-legged loon in the palace - he’s your God. Then comes our honorable prime minister, the drunkard who was obviously intoxicated when he came up with this outfit - he’s your Lord and Savior. Then there are the Carabinieri, the police, whom you should think of as your brothers - as in, you don’t fuck your brother, so don’t fuck them. Then there are the real soldiers in our military. Then there are the Potenzan civilians. Then there’s the dogs. Then there’s the roaches. Then there’s the lice and fleas...and then there’s you.”

Monti stopped at the end, turning and addressing them still as he began to pace before them again:

“But most importantly, you’ve signed your allegiance to the Legion. As such, you are no longer whatever nationality you were - you are a Legionnaire. That means I am your master for however long you keep in the contract you signed. Let me make something clear about that - I think of you as shits, and I will treat you like shits accordingly. They may have threatened you with deportation in San Salvo, but when you put on that uniform and declare yourself a Legionnaire after this training, I’ll give you something harsher. You get drunk in that uniform, I will shoot you. You impregnate a Potenzan girl in that uniform, I will shoot you. You commit crime in that uniform, I will shoot you. You retreat from battle in that uniform...I will shoot you and I will fuck your corpse and send it, bloodied and desecrated, back home to your mother. Have I made that clear?”

Seeing that everyone - including his inferiors - were stone silent, Monti nodded and continued:

“When we’re done here, you’ll learn your barrack numbers and be given training uniforms. For now, you will be assigned your lieutenants. Those with cocks and balls will count off in threes.” He began to motion to the various officers. “Every first man will go to Lieutenant Angiolo Accorso. Every second man, Lieutenant Edmondo Baggio. Every third man, Lieutenant Luciano Di Pasqua. If you have tits of whatever size and a pussy of whatever frequent use, you will be under Lieutenant Bernardo D’Amore. Oh yes, I almost forgot - this is Captain Donato Abandonato, your spiritual advisor. He worships a suicidal Jew, but you're to go to him even if you worship a slanted-eyed hobo or a desert pedophile. Dismissed, fuckers.”

And with that, Monti turned and marched smartly away from the formation, back towards the headquarters.

“Very colorful,” muttered D’Amore.

Di Pasqua turned his gaze, looking over at the chaplain, who stood beside him. Poor Abandonato was looking visibly pale, his eyes as wide as hen eggs. The captain’s thumb was nearly wearing down the rosary he held in his hand, as the front end ran back and forth a single bead rapidly.

“Is he always...like...that?” the chaplain asked.

Di Pasqua shrugged, “I don’t know...but I’m going to guess he was rather reserved today...”

 

[Ashkelon]

Ksenia exited the bus with a spring in her step. Her conversation with Redmond had been... short... but it was interesting to see how so many people from so many disparate places had come here. She brushed past another woman on the way down, quietly mumbling an apology and wishing her a great time here. Although she was certain that a lot of people wouldn't consider it that. This was still a military unit, in a sense, and any military unit was reasonably harsh on its enlisted. As the genders were separated and the women lined up, the heiress' conditioning, which had barely left her even after these months, quickly kicked in, and she immediately snapped into place.

She would stand out, along with any other woman who did serious service. But that wasn't the only thing they would be searching for. If Ksenia Kaminska was going to make her mark on this Foreign Legion, then she had to be the best. There was no way on God's green earth that she would let these Potenzans put her on the end of a radio or pushing carts of artillery shells around. She had patrolled the borders between Nowy Tomysi and Miroslavl, topped her KW7 training class, and even received a recommendation that she go career and serve either on the front line or become a drill instructor.

In short, she was a capable soldier.

She was a Sarmatian soldier.

Ksenia listened to the CO's introductory speech and fought hard against a smirk that wanted to creep up the side of her face. The bitter sincerity! This was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. As she moved over to report to Lieutenant D'Amore - a fitting name, if her Tiburan was correct - Ksenia was already starting to feel at home, her legs moving in a perfectly synchronised manner that was unmistakably a march. There was no doubt about it. This was going to be an excellent three years!

 

[Potenza]

D'Amore kept his eye on the women as they marched around, going to some naval staff officers who would assign them their barracks and give them their uniforms, the measurements of which had been sent ahead of time from San Salvo. One woman caught his eye - one who seemed to be walking smartly and with near military professionalism. The Potenzan officer continued to keep his eye on her as she marched alongside the other women, and she definitely stood out. There was something about her - no mere civilian marched like that.

"You!" D'Amore shouted in Tiburan, hoping she would understand. The woman, who was of course Ksenia, turned and came to him, standing at a smart attention.

"What is your name?" D'Amore asked, and then added perhaps a peculiar question: "Where are you from?"

She of course told him who she was and where she was from, to which the lieutenant nodded and said:

"Well, Recruit Ksenia the Sarmatian, you are now a Sergente of the Legion. Get your uniform, organize your barracks, and see me at my office in an hour. Dismissed."

This had to be a bit of a shock. The Sarmatian woman had just been promoted to an NCO without any further training. It was already planned by the navy that it would take about three years of service or so before anyone hoped to have such a rank, but now D'Amore had broken protocol. It wasn't quite "official," of course, but he was certain, once he gave his reasons for doing so, that his superiors would agree.

Accorso and Baggio were looking at the scene out of the corners of their eye as the male recruits fell in. Accorso was especially enjoying the sight of the female recruits, though for different reasons than D'Amore was.

"Oh boy!" Accorso said, giving a broad smile, "D'Amore has his work cut out for him! Say, do you think it's true that he's..." Accorso held his hand, fingers outstretched, on a horizontal level and waggled it about.

"No," replied Baggio tersely, "but they trust him with the women."

"It's a waste!" Accorso said glumly, "They should've given me command of the auxiliary unit! I'd know how to take care of them."

"That's precisely why they didn't give you command of the auxiliary unit," Baggio said, and walked off without another word.

 

[The Federation]

Redmond had no chance to respond to the Sarmatian woman as the bus suddenly came to a stop and they were rushed off it. Red awkwardly hurried off the bus, somehow becoming the first male in the line of men that had formed. After listening to quite a vulgar and threatening speech in English, the men had been ordered to count off in threes, with Red being the first he yelled one and made his way to where a line what form for the men under Lieutenant Accorso.

Everything had been quite confusing for him as the feeling that he had made a tremendous mistake now became almost unbearable. He could see Ksenia marching like a professional soldier and that D'Amore had instantly promoted her to Sergent, he could tell this created a ripple of surprise among the other officers. As Red lined up he caught a better look at Captain Monti, the man was short but not incredibly short and he looked like had seen a good bit of combat. Redmond looked like he had just been born compared to many of these men, he hardly understood there words to each other making him even more awkward and uncomfortable. With the way things were going, he was sure Monti would find a reason to shoot him other than the ones he had listed, though he figured being shot and killed by your own commanding officer would be better than being back in Sylvania right now.

 

[Ashkelon]

Ksenia Kaminska, now in uniform, knocked on the door to Lieutenant D'Amore's office. At the responding acknowledgement, she opened the door and stepped in, stopping to snap into a salute. "Sergente Kaminska reporting as ordered, Sir!"

She was careful with her choice of words. Leaving out either could lead to some very serious issues that would jeopardise her service in the Legion, she imagined. On one hand, she was promoted to NCO. On the other hand, she was unsure of its official status, although there wasn't much she could do about it. For one, coming up with your own terms was not a good idea, given the strict hierarchical order of the military. And another, even if one were given an Acting rank, the soldier in question was addressed as if possessing the full rank itself. "Sergente" will have to do.

The oil heiress had quickly done as ordered, having gone straight to her barracks to get it in ship shape - and doing her best to get the other ladies moving fast. It took some time, but if her watch was correct, then she still had some five minutes to spare. As she stood to attention in front of the Lieutenant's desk, she mentally gave her thanks to St. Weronika for this opportunity, one that she would not waste in the slightest. This was quite the responsibility, one that she had turned down before, but one that she could not do so now. No, the next three years were going to be different, she was sure. While perhaps fighting against communists was not her idea of an adventure, something like this certainly was.

But now she held this responsibility, and it was only right that she should care greatly for it. There would be no abuse. Why should she? No, she would be as the Legion needed her to be, whatever that requirement might entail. Now, she stood on the ready for whatever might come.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Ludvik had looked at his watch; the only real personal item he had with him as the train brought him into Potenza. It had been his father's, who had been a warehouse hand until he was beaten to death outside a bar when Ludvik was little more than 15. The wristwatch, aside from his family, was the father's prize possession. It was not constructed out of precious metals or was constructed by one of Karlovia's famous watch and clock makers. Nearing 41, Ludvik had devoted most of his life to Karlovia. This accounted for his second item, a small folding knife with his initials and corporal's crest engraved on the blade. At 17, he had enlisted in the Royal Army and had served for several years as a military policeman. He had received corporal before a series of unfortunate incidents involving his service weapon, an egg beater, and a bottle of vodka made him lose his stripes. He also had found himself transferred to the artillery, something he had known little about. Gradually, Ludvik Muk came to understand his role and after 10 years, made sergeant. Unfortunately, Ludvik found himself a pawn being used between two officers. He was busted to corporal and soon found himself facing transfer to a field kitchen unit. Disgusted, after 19 years of service, Ludvik left the army. He had traveled from place to place and worked odd jobs; most recently as an ice skating coach for kids 5-6 years old.

Now, he stood quietly in the ranks. He knew the game. Eyes front! Mouth shut! Shoulders back! He was not imposing. He was 5 foot 6 and a half and barely weighed 170 pounds. His hair was showing signs of gray and his face was cracked. His language skills were poor. He picked up bits of English and the occasional German phrase spoken by other recruits. He quickly figured out basic commands and the fact that some of the younger lads were quietly calling him 'grandpa'. He noticed several others appeared to have some military background. They knew the game too. Break down, build up. Yelling, jumping, probably a beating here or there. They had asked him why he wanted to join the legion. He had shrugged and they told him to leave. Sensing the importance of the question he spoke up quietly in broken English "A man. Age of mine. Don't make a choice without thought". The interviewer shrugged and waived him through to the rest of the process. Now, some officer was delivering a grandiose speech he only caught pieces off. He would hold his cards dearly close, or try.

 

[Clarenthia]

It’s not hard to imagine why a youth from Akhaltsikhe would see an interest in leaving and going to a nation where it’s more accepted to not be a Muslim. Malkhaz Apakidze had just turned 19 a month ago. His father was a soldier and so was his brother, it would be unnatural for Malkhaz to do anything different. His father died a few years back and his brother still remained a soldier under the new Islamic Republic, however Malkhaz could do no such thing. To him, the Muslims were insulting and hypocritical.

Growing up in Abasha was a guarantee of a life of luxury and success. The wealth and luxury of Abasha was stripped and decayed as soon as the Muslims in Sharjah declared themselves the new rulers of the Georgians. Sharjah dumped huge sums of money into every portion of the country where Georgians weren’t. In the words of Sharjah, “all men and women are equal in our Republic.” They forget to mention that if a man or woman happens to not be up the Muslim faith, they are second class citizens and more often than not, invisible to the Lords of Sharjah.

Malkhaz was destined to be a soldier, there was no question, but he would not fight for Sharjah, he would not defend the very nation that has caused his people such hardship, so he left. He left his family and friends behind the decaying empire that once flourished under a different banner. He refused to go across the border to Talemantros, the nation that failed to save Akhaltsikhe and has since turned its back.

There was a nicer place, a place where he could fit in, a place that offered not only a chance to be a soldier but to be a citizen as well. That’s why Malkhaz has found himself in Potenza, attempting to join this Legione della Marina. Not only would language pose issues, but Malkhaz had terrible eyes and was fairly flat footed, either way, he was determined to make a life for himself in Potenza.