Serenierre
Established Nation
Northern Coronado
The two hundred plus fighter jets had attacked the north western military infrastructure of the Socialist Republic maintaining their element of surprise. The objective of the mission was to devastate the north Coronadan aerial and aerial defense capability. Airfields; civilian and military, any point from where a fighter jet could take off was targeted, thanks to the extensive satellite coverage of the Socialist Republic. Key transport links; such as bridges and railway tracks found themselves assaulted by the laser guided munitions. Aerial artillery and SAMs the subjects of anti-radiation munitions.
The attack on the naval aerial base at Point Ramone, and its accompanying array of SAMs and radar facilities, had been one of the first targets of the jets. The 5th Squadron in the 3rd Air Wing, the unit under the command of Gr. Captain Khizilyari, had rained a volley of runway busting bombs, the sort which ripped 16x5 meter large craters into runways and targeting the radars and SAMs was much easier to do, with the laser guided munitions. And with the burning remains of what had just a few short moments before been the Point Ramone naval air base behind them, the eight jets of that squadron, as the others, would continue the rampage of predetermined targets until their fuel ran low and their missile and bomb stocks depleted.
Then they would return back to their home base in the Dominion of Visidame, in southern Belmont. And then would start the second wave, as far as estimates were concerned, by then the northern Coronadan aerial capability would be annihilated to a large extent.
General Headquarters
Outskirts of Paris
General Villevois, Chief of the Army Staff, lit another cigarette - his fifth of in the past two hours - word had come of the commencement of the air raid against Coronado and the onus lay with him to give the go ahead to the army units to deploy to the southern front, something he had done almost as soon as he had gotten word of the commencement of the air raid. Though already on high alert, they weren't yet mobilized for the action ahead - in the estimations of the Royal Strategist Corps, the full mobilization was possible in an additional two weeks. Similar commands had been issued by the navy as well. Clearly, in this operation the air force was playing first fiddle. In the meantime, Villevois had busied himself by communicating with his Lieutenant Generals and Major Generals, whose units, according to the plans, were to be part of the operation. Choosing to let the Commander of the Armed Forces, General Mazarin to deal with the political aspects of the operation.
Standing in the private balcony, which came along with the job, he tapped the cigarette on the railing, dropping the ash onto the cement pavement below. He looked at the vast inner courtyard of the General Headquarters' eastern wing - traditionally the domain of the army. Several aids had come and gone informing him about the latest stats arriving from the Air Force Command just a few dozen meters away, in the northern wing of the mideavel fortress which had served as the high command of the Belmontien armed forces since the end of the Gallian conflict in the early 19th century. It was there, the generals of the time retreated to escape the rapidly advancing forces of the, then, Kingdom of Coronado. It was ironic that, to where the Coronadan forces had pushed the Belmontien generals was where they, two hundred years later, strategize the operation that was ongoing.
Château de Lamorciérre
Paris
Premier Shahrazad Martinque had lit her first cigarette in two decades that day. She sat in her office chair, leaning back as aide after aide came with "diplomatic buzz" about the situation. She had read the first few herself but had, almost, an hour ago stopped, seeing they urged the same thing, more or less. According to the latest bulletins being issued by the BRAF, the attack itself had begun little more than twenty minutes ago and had met with success, as far as an element of surprise was expected. The small computer, a device slightly larger than a commercial laptop, sat on her desk feeding her the information from the GHQ ten kilometers away.
Having finished a meeting with Jacques Rebinaud, the Opposition Leader, a solid guarantee had arrived from him to her; this war was a national issue and not a political one, Rebinaud had said, and his and his party's full support was behind the Government in this "great crusade against the last vestiges of communism in the West." Though their number in Parliament was much smaller than her own, she and her government needed the support of the Opposition, as the Nürnberg Clique had observed, they were a force not taken lightly in Paris. But though they disagreed on many things, anti-communism was a matter on which all agreed, what with the Socialist Republic - a member of the RDTO no less - sitting on the footstep of Visidame.
Though now, Shahrazad expected a phonecall from someone of much greater power than she or Rebinaud combined; HRH The Prince Regent. He alone, held the key to turning public opinion and perception in favor of this war ahead. Though the voices of dissent would rise even with the Prince Regent leading the way, the masses could be convinced. The national reverence of the monarchy was far too great - that even the Nürnberg Cliques would attest to.
The phone rang once and with panther like reflexes the Premier picked up the secure line.
"His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent wishes to speak with you... Madame Premier," a young woman said, obviously groggy, not used to waking up that early.
"Connect it please."
Silence for three seconds.
"Madame Martinique, I have received this document that... I'm supposed to read... its not what we had agreed to previously."
"Your Highness," she said after listening to him patiently, having stubbed out the cigarette as she heard the Prince, "The current situation calls for a strength from the Crown."
"But," he said firmly, "previously, it had been agreed for me to simply assent to the declaration... I was not part of the media campaign."
"And that you still aren't... it is simply that the assent is being broadcast to the nation... to unite the people just as your great-great-grandfather did during the Great War."
"The situation then was diff-" he stopped short, mid sentence. Silence on the line for a few seconds. "To ask of me to do this is unacceptable... unless of course a proper deal is struck."
The son of a bitch, Shahrazad thought. She had known that Prince Nicolas was a formidable politician and hungry to restore power to his hereditary right and she had estimated something such as this happening but still she had hoped that she was wrong. Too bad she wasn't. "Your Highness, what would you propose?" she asked, hiding her frustration, an art form perfected over thirty years in politics.
"By all means, The Crown and its components are well respected across the realms - that I am certain of - we, somehow, manage to retain the reverence afforded to our rank, lost in nearly all noble houses, but the Crown must beg for finances... emasculated as the institution is... something unacceptable... and what you propose seems highly one sided. We lend our respectability to you, even though the Crown is equally vociferous in its opposition... no, hatred of this scourge released to the world by that Franconian madman Marx, but the Crown retains such limited power. I'm sure, you understand."
"Your Highness," exasperated, "for the moment, I imagine that to be impossible-"
Interrupting her, "Mr. Rebinaud tends to disagree. He's of the opinion that these concerns of mine are justified and he stands by the proposition I have made is reasonable. Madame Premier, we still have some time before this must be read, use this time to think again... remember well that you need me right now as much as I need you for this proposition... though of-course realize I seek assurances I shall have your support when the time comes. When you reach an answer, call my office, I shall be waiting."
The line went dead.
She looked at the phone, muttered a curse word and lit another cigarette.
The two hundred plus fighter jets had attacked the north western military infrastructure of the Socialist Republic maintaining their element of surprise. The objective of the mission was to devastate the north Coronadan aerial and aerial defense capability. Airfields; civilian and military, any point from where a fighter jet could take off was targeted, thanks to the extensive satellite coverage of the Socialist Republic. Key transport links; such as bridges and railway tracks found themselves assaulted by the laser guided munitions. Aerial artillery and SAMs the subjects of anti-radiation munitions.
The attack on the naval aerial base at Point Ramone, and its accompanying array of SAMs and radar facilities, had been one of the first targets of the jets. The 5th Squadron in the 3rd Air Wing, the unit under the command of Gr. Captain Khizilyari, had rained a volley of runway busting bombs, the sort which ripped 16x5 meter large craters into runways and targeting the radars and SAMs was much easier to do, with the laser guided munitions. And with the burning remains of what had just a few short moments before been the Point Ramone naval air base behind them, the eight jets of that squadron, as the others, would continue the rampage of predetermined targets until their fuel ran low and their missile and bomb stocks depleted.
Then they would return back to their home base in the Dominion of Visidame, in southern Belmont. And then would start the second wave, as far as estimates were concerned, by then the northern Coronadan aerial capability would be annihilated to a large extent.
General Headquarters
Outskirts of Paris
General Villevois, Chief of the Army Staff, lit another cigarette - his fifth of in the past two hours - word had come of the commencement of the air raid against Coronado and the onus lay with him to give the go ahead to the army units to deploy to the southern front, something he had done almost as soon as he had gotten word of the commencement of the air raid. Though already on high alert, they weren't yet mobilized for the action ahead - in the estimations of the Royal Strategist Corps, the full mobilization was possible in an additional two weeks. Similar commands had been issued by the navy as well. Clearly, in this operation the air force was playing first fiddle. In the meantime, Villevois had busied himself by communicating with his Lieutenant Generals and Major Generals, whose units, according to the plans, were to be part of the operation. Choosing to let the Commander of the Armed Forces, General Mazarin to deal with the political aspects of the operation.
Standing in the private balcony, which came along with the job, he tapped the cigarette on the railing, dropping the ash onto the cement pavement below. He looked at the vast inner courtyard of the General Headquarters' eastern wing - traditionally the domain of the army. Several aids had come and gone informing him about the latest stats arriving from the Air Force Command just a few dozen meters away, in the northern wing of the mideavel fortress which had served as the high command of the Belmontien armed forces since the end of the Gallian conflict in the early 19th century. It was there, the generals of the time retreated to escape the rapidly advancing forces of the, then, Kingdom of Coronado. It was ironic that, to where the Coronadan forces had pushed the Belmontien generals was where they, two hundred years later, strategize the operation that was ongoing.
Château de Lamorciérre
Paris
Premier Shahrazad Martinque had lit her first cigarette in two decades that day. She sat in her office chair, leaning back as aide after aide came with "diplomatic buzz" about the situation. She had read the first few herself but had, almost, an hour ago stopped, seeing they urged the same thing, more or less. According to the latest bulletins being issued by the BRAF, the attack itself had begun little more than twenty minutes ago and had met with success, as far as an element of surprise was expected. The small computer, a device slightly larger than a commercial laptop, sat on her desk feeding her the information from the GHQ ten kilometers away.
Having finished a meeting with Jacques Rebinaud, the Opposition Leader, a solid guarantee had arrived from him to her; this war was a national issue and not a political one, Rebinaud had said, and his and his party's full support was behind the Government in this "great crusade against the last vestiges of communism in the West." Though their number in Parliament was much smaller than her own, she and her government needed the support of the Opposition, as the Nürnberg Clique had observed, they were a force not taken lightly in Paris. But though they disagreed on many things, anti-communism was a matter on which all agreed, what with the Socialist Republic - a member of the RDTO no less - sitting on the footstep of Visidame.
Though now, Shahrazad expected a phonecall from someone of much greater power than she or Rebinaud combined; HRH The Prince Regent. He alone, held the key to turning public opinion and perception in favor of this war ahead. Though the voices of dissent would rise even with the Prince Regent leading the way, the masses could be convinced. The national reverence of the monarchy was far too great - that even the Nürnberg Cliques would attest to.
The phone rang once and with panther like reflexes the Premier picked up the secure line.
"His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent wishes to speak with you... Madame Premier," a young woman said, obviously groggy, not used to waking up that early.
"Connect it please."
Silence for three seconds.
"Madame Martinique, I have received this document that... I'm supposed to read... its not what we had agreed to previously."
"Your Highness," she said after listening to him patiently, having stubbed out the cigarette as she heard the Prince, "The current situation calls for a strength from the Crown."
"But," he said firmly, "previously, it had been agreed for me to simply assent to the declaration... I was not part of the media campaign."
"And that you still aren't... it is simply that the assent is being broadcast to the nation... to unite the people just as your great-great-grandfather did during the Great War."
"The situation then was diff-" he stopped short, mid sentence. Silence on the line for a few seconds. "To ask of me to do this is unacceptable... unless of course a proper deal is struck."
The son of a bitch, Shahrazad thought. She had known that Prince Nicolas was a formidable politician and hungry to restore power to his hereditary right and she had estimated something such as this happening but still she had hoped that she was wrong. Too bad she wasn't. "Your Highness, what would you propose?" she asked, hiding her frustration, an art form perfected over thirty years in politics.
"By all means, The Crown and its components are well respected across the realms - that I am certain of - we, somehow, manage to retain the reverence afforded to our rank, lost in nearly all noble houses, but the Crown must beg for finances... emasculated as the institution is... something unacceptable... and what you propose seems highly one sided. We lend our respectability to you, even though the Crown is equally vociferous in its opposition... no, hatred of this scourge released to the world by that Franconian madman Marx, but the Crown retains such limited power. I'm sure, you understand."
"Your Highness," exasperated, "for the moment, I imagine that to be impossible-"
Interrupting her, "Mr. Rebinaud tends to disagree. He's of the opinion that these concerns of mine are justified and he stands by the proposition I have made is reasonable. Madame Premier, we still have some time before this must be read, use this time to think again... remember well that you need me right now as much as I need you for this proposition... though of-course realize I seek assurances I shall have your support when the time comes. When you reach an answer, call my office, I shall be waiting."
The line went dead.
She looked at the phone, muttered a curse word and lit another cigarette.
