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The Prize

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The Federation

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THE HIGHLANDER
Bangleann, Bantyr
The Executive Palace



President Gordon sat in his leather chair in his darkened office in the Executive Palace that sat looking out over the fog covered valley Bangleann sat in; it's small towers barely breaking through the fog. The morning sun broke over the crest of the valley reflecting off the moist fog and shining into his window, illuminating his unlit office. The journey to this moment in time had been one spanning half a life time, Gordon would be turning forty-five soon himself and as he sat he reflected on the journey. The Nationalist Party of Bantyr had little legitimate power within the government establishment forced to work in the shadows to gain the control it needed to shape Bantyr into it's nationalistic vision. Many previous regimes before Gordon's had been Nationalist Party plants, slowly but surely shaping the attitude of the country into one of seething hatred for everything not Bantyric, unfortunately with they Murdoch regime they had played their hand to early and did more damage then intended in the short term, however the long term effect upon the people's attitude had done wonders for the Nationalists. With the anger of the people swiftly and professionally shifted to the outside source of Bantyr's pain they succeeded in an increasingly nationalistic population. Constant fear mongering of increasing medical costs due to defective people allowed the Eugenics bill to be legitimately legislated into Bantyric common law. People turned in suspected human defects and race traitors; the journey to racial purity would be a long one but they were well on their way. With the Suionian continuing their vengeful economic crusade against Bantyr the nationalist controlled media spun their webs and manipulated the people to fear the Suionian; beatings of those with Suionian heritage in the southern cities were common, employers passed them over for those with pure Bantyric heritage. Of course some intelligent employees and entrepreneurs would be destroyed in the wave of fear but it was a small price to pay for a pure Bantyr. Police ignored their requests for help, the media passed up their calls to report their suffering and anything that may have made it through was swiftly denounced as enemy propaganda.


Allen Gordon smiled as he thought of these events and happenings throughout his nation; he would be the vanguard of a Nationalist takeover of Bantyr in the coming elections and the charade would soon be over. He had given his childhood to the Nationalists, sworn his life to them and his mind to them. He enjoyed every moment of it, the power they had given him was the reward for his faith. He though of his life in the frozen Highlands the land that had formed him into a physically and mentally strong man. As a boy he watched the soldiers train in the hills and mountains preparing themselves for anything, as a young man he joined them and quickly became one of them and as an adult he used the skills and knowledge he gained there to serve his masters. A shrill beep quickly brought him out of his reminiscing, his sharp green eyes turning with his head as he looked over his shoulder before repositioning himself to face his desk and the dark wooden door before it. His rough hand reached out to press the button on the intercom. The timid voice of his aide came through advising him that his good friend and General Keith Ritchie had come for his scheduled visit. The door opened revealing an older man in his sixties, his once red hair now gray due to the stresses of the military, wearing his Service Blues and a dark blue Tam o' Shanter upon his head. Gordon smiled when he saw him come in, waving for him to approach the desk. Ritchie took out a pipe and quietly pointed at it.


“Of course, I do not mind,” Gordon answered knowing he was asking if he could smoke. Ritchie removed tobacco from a small pouch produced from his pocket and packed it in. Gordon turned to look back out the window toward the fog covered city; more of the city was now visible as the sun continued rising.


Ritchie finally spoke after a few puffs on his old pipe, “Looks like it will burn off soon.” He said gesturing with the pipe toward the fog.


“Indeed,” Gordon said turning back to face General Ritchie. “How have you been old friend?”


“Old?” Ritchie spurted out acting offended. “I'll have you know young man, I feel as if I am still in my twenties!”


Gordon laughed, “Of course you do.”


Ritchie smiled and paused for a moment taking another puff from his pipe. “I am quite alright my friend. I hear that you wish to discuss the Glass Islands?”


“Indeed I do,” Gordon confirmed. “It has come to my attention that the Glass Islands are quite under-defended lately with our military facilities lacking as of late. There has been worry as of late within our faction that the Suionian establishment has come to the conclusion that they must use more forceful ways of opening up Bantyr to their influence once again.”


Ritchie's left eyebrow raised as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, “This is all hearsay of course?”


“Of course,” Gordon quickly replied, “but when was the last time our benefactor's 'hearsay' was incorrect?


“I cannot recall a time, Allen,” Ritchie said, still in thought.


Gordon's face remained calm as he spoke, “As I thought, if we are to return Bantyr to it's nationalistic glory we must embrace a level of militarism yet unseen within our nation. We must make the military, the national and local defense a matter of everyday events. As a member of the Joint Chiefs and leader of all of Bantyr's beloved armies you have the ear of the Defense Minister.”


“He has yet to be brought into our faction?” Ritchie asked.


“No, he is as we all thought, incorruptible, but he is easily manipulated which brings the defense budget under our control. However at times he becomes aware that he is a tool and tries to assert control back to his office; that is were you come in. He trusts you as a senior military mind and thus will listen to your sage advice. I would like to have all control my friend but asserting control over this republic is a team effort and that shall not change for many years yet.”


“I understand old friend. I shall get to work immediately upon this, the fear of our neighbor will spread through our military establishment and work to our advantage,” Ritchie gloated.


“Good, good, I shall have my aide schedule a dinner here in the palace next week.” Gordon said turning back toward the window, the fog had now completely burned off, the city in the valley now fully visible in the orange glow of the new sun. Ritchie saluted and turned to leave as Gordon closed his eyes feeling the sun's heat on his face, the sound of the door to his office quietly closing as the General left.
 

The Federation

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The wars in the lowlands had a surprising effect on the renewed nationalistic fervor in Bantyr, coupled with the constant propaganda against the established powers of the world and the people were fully buying into the nationalist faction's rhetoric, the war could have not come at a better time for both the movement and the military expansion currently being created. The Defense Minister had been easy to convince to allocate the money needed to create new missile launching facilities on the Glass Islands, construction would quietly begin soon with parts being shipped in during the cover of night and fleet movements around the homeland to create a wider area for enemies to survey, whether it would work or not would be quickly apparent. The war had another positive effect for Bantyr, with Engellex's inability to fully manufacture everything they needed for their surprise war the flow of Engellexic money into industry coffers had a great boosting effect for Gordon and his puppet senate as people were put to work. Engellexic ships being refitted in Port Fiona gave the dockworkers something to rejoice over, the metal workers and aviation companies rejoiced at the new international business, the Alliance with Engellex had begun paying off almost immediately; imperialism was good for business and luckily the destruction of the status quo alliances would most likely take years, providing the economy with a steady stream of money.


Tens of thousands of feet in the air Executive One flew the President back toward Bangleann; Allen Gordon blankly stared out at the large puffs of clouds that prevented him from seeing the ground. His thoughts were mostly ones of worry, despite the apparent successes of the nationalist movement within Bantyr itself there was still doubt that it could continue to be driven on the current events and factors itself. He needed the nation to get more involved, nationalism did not flourish in times of military isolationism and eventually the military buildup, though unreported and mostly kept a secret to the general public, would soon begin to draw the eyes of those who payed attention to such things. Though the trade war continued to be waged by mostly the Northern Council, he sometimes forgot such things existed as he looked around his country and at his countrymen who were now supporting his every move, success after success brought the realization of The Prize ever closer.


The chime indicating the need for a seat belt brought Allen out of his deep worried thoughts, for a second he forgot where he was and looked around surprised at his new environment until the popping of his ears and another look out the window brought back the knowledge of where he was supposed to be. The plane was mostly empty, his aides having taken the compartment back further in the plane for themselves to give him privacy. A flight attendant appeared from the forward compartment with a glass of water and handed it to Allen. He quietly thanked her and turned to look back out the window. Another chime sounded throughout the cabin but this time it came from the laptop sitting upon the tray table in front of him, it was General Ritchie calling him. A video screen came up and after a few seconds of encryption the General's face came up on the screen.


“Ah, Mr. President, how is your flight? Should we be expecting you soon?” Ritchie inquired.


Allen quietly sighed, “I am sorry to say the speech in Kilkenny went over by a few minutes couple that with inclement weather and we were not able to get off the ground until a half hour after our original departure schedule. I apologize for my tardiness, I understand the Joint Chiefs have much other business to attend to.”


Ritchie smiled at the apology, “Such things are a fact of life, however we shall await patiently for your arrival.”


Allen nodded, “Of course old friend, however I believe the original subject and subsequent reports scheduled for this meeting shall most likely be postponed, with the escalation in the lowlands and the threat of a stall in our continued success I believe it is time to step it up and increase our involvement in this situation. Have the staff in Bangleann schedule a flight to Dulwich as soon as possible, I shall inform the Ambassador to Engellex of our intentions.”


Ritchie raised an eyebrow, “You mean we are to join in the conflict?”


Allen did not indicate whether the assumption was right or not, “I did not say that, however I do intend to see how Bantyr can become more involved with the Queen's policy for freedom of the Lowlands from EDF imperialism. Military involvement may be a part of that but avoidance of such stipulations should be a priority if possible, I do not want to damage our standing in the next elections unless such actions would only increase the chance of taking full control. Gather the Joint Chiefs and be ready for departure when I arrive.”


Ritchie saluted and the disconnected the video conference. Allen took the computer's mouse and started another encrypted call to the Bantyric Ambassador to Engellex. A few moment passed as the call went through. “Ah, Mr. President, it is good to see you, how may I be of assistance,” the Ambassador said nervously.


“Ambassador Graham, I require an audience with the Queen and her war ministers at once, time is of the essence and any delays they may try to put upon this meeting should be politely argued,” Allen ordered.


The Ambassador gulped loudly at the sudden order, “Sir you must understand that the Queen is terribly busy, I shall put in the request but I doubt it will be accepted at the speed you want it.”


“Of course, Ambassador Graham I understand this, we shall see how it goes, however I trust your ability to persuade the Queen's ministers to allow us a meeting on such short notice. Your job depends on it,” Allen cut the conversation off by disconnecting the conferencing program and powering the laptop off. The sudden thumping and rumbling of the landing gear touching down onto the runway jostled him about in his seat as the plane did everything in it's power to slow it's velocity, with the thrust reverser thrown in as the all landing gear was firmly planted onto the ground, the plane slowed and began it's taxi toward the terminal.
 

Great Engellex

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Battent Palace, Dulwich, Union of Great Engellex

It was an especially cold day for August, the Queen-Empress was waiting within the swiftly renamed Imperial Closet, the scene of so many of her most serious and political meetings. Charlotte regarded that particularly large room as one for the nation’s most important of political matters, and it was understood by politicians that if the Queen-Empress refused to grant them an audience in that closet it should be interpreted that Charlotte held little or no regard to the person or/and their cause. Charlotte had received an extraordinary request of audience, not because of the nation requesting it, but in consideration of the circumstances now pervading the region. And now it was the Bantyric Ambassador for the second time in his attempt to persuade further the Queen-Empress in endorsing the president’s desire to speak personally to her. He arrived and stood before; once the pleasantries of imperial etiquette were observed Charlotte addressed him. Your Excellency, I know why you come. I am quite pleased to see you. She held out her hand and the ambassador responded with a respectable low-bow. And I am most honoured that should receive me, your Imperial Majesty. Charlotte smiled and gestured for them both to sit. How is the President? The ambassador responded by detailing his well being, that being he was in high spirits. And how is the republic? He smiled, the republic, m’am, the republic is in excellent spirit in due, of course, to the generosity of yourself, m’am, and, too, your noble people. Charlotte smiled, is industry being fairly distributed in provision throughout the republic? He nodded, oh yes indeed, m’am. Excellent, she replied, as she shifted in her position and still smiling. Should I receive the president I should expect of him to inspire my imagination on how to further this change we going through, she spoke carefully, not trying to be rude or direct. He should understand that the circumstance of my realm allows me time for nothing else, she continued.

The ambassador nodded, I can assure your Majesty that the president is in no desire to be an unworthy expense of your time. In fact, I believe you both shall benefit quite so, indeed, from it. She smiled tenderly, I shall discuss with my ministers the challenge in which we shall have guaranteeing the freedom and safety of his journey here, though it should be made clear, my realm’s resources are engaged with war.
 

The Federation

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A severe blunder had been made by the nationalist establishment in the quick and hurried meeting with the Queen-Empress Charlotte and as instrument of the nationalists plan for the future The offices of the President and Foreign Affairs were the ones who faced the brunt of the mistakes of those who calculated and directed The Path. Fortunately the re-calculation and subsequent second meeting was delivered by General Keith Ritchie and received somewhat well by the understanding Queen-Empress. Gordon was glad he did not have to go back and face her with the sudden news; she was as cunning as she was beautiful but in his opinion she had grasped more than her hands could hold onto. Despite the sudden one-eighty on becoming more militarily active in support of Engellex, the Second Fleet, commanded by Fleet Admiral Carson Carbry, was still in position to aid Engellex should the war suddenly take an unfortunate turn against Bantyr's newest ally; it's repositioning under the guise of An Lyric Sea security. Until such an event came to pass the only Bantyric ships sailing toward Engellex would be the massive super-cargo ships filled with supplies bought with Engellexic Pounds. The trade agreement had been a boon for Bantyr with whatever Engellex could not produce or made in sufficient quantity being purchased from Bantyr, it had also done wonders for the nationalist's ability to carry out The Path effectively with a much happier, employed populace.


The Path would have to wait a few days however as Gordon made his way home toward the White Forest Mountains and a small town known as Elgin. Elgin was nestled within the legendary highlands of Bantyr, as a child he lived in a small one story home with his parents and brothers, but now instead of the crowded, one story home, he lived in what could be considered a small mansion, provided by him partly by the established government and the nationalists who shaped him into the man he was today. The black sedan slowly drove through the narrow streets of the sleepy town built into the side of the mountain, snow would be present soon as the winter months grew closer with each day. Soon the vehicle reached his home, secluded from the town itself, hidden from the road by the trees, the house itself was made of stone and wood but what it contained was much more interesting. If the leftist news establishment, small as it was, could obtain the secret held inside The Path would be destroyed in mere seconds. The door opened to a dark atrium, though it was daylight the interior was dimly lit, the drapes closed, no servants greeted the President's return, only the muffled sounds of a radio could be heard playing music somewhere deep inside the house. The patter of paws could be heard on the wooden floors as a golden retriever appeared from the doorway leading out of the atrium, Allen got down on one knee to pet the dog. As he pet the now happily panting dog a woman appeared in the doorway, a white cane in her hand, her eyes took a moment to center upon where he stood.

“I'm home, Rosslyn.” He said.

Her face lit up at his voice and she moved to embrace her husband. Allen felt bad for leaving her alone like this, between mandate of The Path to keep the Bantyric race pure and his wife's inherited genetic disability he had managed to keep them separate and the nationalists in the dark about his family. The blindness did not come until after a few years into their marriage, there was no knowledge of the disease within her until eventually her eyesight completely failed. She adapted quickly and beat the depression without trouble. Luckily for him the private nature she had established for life that he beat to enter into a relationship with her acted as a barrier to keep prying eyes away from spreading the news. Only a few people knew, her mother and father who were still alive and a few close friends of hers. The sudden mandate to sterilize those with deviations had caused problems with their relationship, but Allen promised her she would be spared from such operations. As the embrace ended with a kiss they went toward the sitting room to catch up on the weeks events and be in each others company. The dog following behind.


THE GLASS ISLANDS
FIRST FLEET


On the guided missile cruiser Spear, Two Fresh Seaman Recruits stood on the deck cleaning the ship and talking of the newest developments in the world. Every so often an officer would walk past and tell to shut up and keep working but as soon as said officer was out of ear shot their conversation continued. In the distance civilian cargo ships could be seen ferrying equipment to the different islands in preparation for the new island defenses being built. First Fleet or as it was called the Home Fleet had the islands encircled and the Gulf nearby covered watching foreign ships passing by toward the northern trade routes. First Fleet's sister fleet, Third Fleet was stationed for the northern portions of the Bantyr, covering the multitudes of fishing and whaling ships going to and from the different ports. The conversation bounced back between the new construction on the Glass Islands, the influx of new recruits of which they belonged, the transference of infantry and armor regiments to the islands and the missiles being brought in part by part. To the two recruits their thoughts of these new developments were directed toward the conflicts in the Lowlands, the government has and continues to be a vocal supporter of Engellex's struggle against the imperialism of the EDF and in support of such ideas was the deployment of Second Fleet to the Cambrian strait. Where they to go to war with nations such as Montelimar and their supporters, perhaps their struggle was to be aimed at stopping Franken fleets from using the An lyric Sea as an entrance point against Engellexic fleets, the evidence to support this was not as clear however. The other recruit shook his head and his foolish counterpart, it was obvious to his small mind that it was simple posturing for An Lyric supremacy, Bantyr had not the economy to enter sustain conflict he would say to his friend, but doubt entered his mind, employment was rising everyday and the creation of a war economy was apparent. The recruits continued their argument until the officer came around again and smacked them both upside the head and told them to get back to work. The recruits hurried back to work scrubbing the deck of the ship with the setting sun to their backs.
 

The Federation

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LOCK HAVEN
GLASS ISLANDS
LOCK HAVEN MILITARY TRAINING CENTER


Hundreds of new, uniformed recruits sat inside what was once a school auditorium, a giant screen was pulled down and a slide show was projected upon it. The slide show contained the profiles and recognition features of what would be enemy units and weapons on the battlefield, however the owner of such weapons and vehicles was not directly told to the soldiers. More intelligent minds knew exactly who they belonged to, the military began to allow such news spread through the ranks, it wouldn't be long now until the operation began, however they maintained no official position upon such news and claimed it to be fanciful rumor. The amount of infantry, vehicles and equipment being shipped into the Glass Islands was increasing everyday. Cruise missile platforms, quickly built all along the island chain, stood triumphantly against the blue An Lyric skies, air defenses had been quickly erected as well, the entirety of the Bantyric industrial power thrown into supplying the Engellexic and the Homeland with brand new weapons and materiel. Recognition features classes would be held everyday for new recruits and veteran serviceman alike. The permanently and make shift camps were filling up quickly, logistics was key to keeping the men fed, trained and fresh for anything. Volunteers would come to entertain the soldiers and keep their boredom placated in any way possible.


In a tent near the back of a makeshift base for the overflow of new soldiers a different kind of training or entertainment, as some would call it, was secretly happening, away from the prying eyes of the colonels and majors.


“Aye, looks like we captured ourselves a spy!” A Leftenant said aloud to his platoon members. In the middle of the group which encircled her, a woman sat upon her knees, a bruise across her cheek, her blond hair ruffled from being dragged and pulled at. Her bright blue eyes showed fear of the men who surrounded her. She wasn't any older than 21, her clothes and coat in the style of traditional Bantyric dress.


“It's not true! I was simply walking home! To Loch Haven!” She yelled out, her voice stuttering as she spoke.




“Doing a wee bit of spying on our operations here? Eh, Suionian?!” The Leftenant accused again.


“Suionian?” She said, true surprise in her voice, “I was born here! In Port Fiona!”


“Aye slut, but your bloodline! It's Suionian! And we all know how important blood is in this country, don't we boys?” He said to his men, the men nodded and verbally agreed with him.


“I am Bantyric by birth,” she claimed, “my parent's blood has nothing to do with it you fascist pigs!”


“I don't think so,” the Leftenant said, laughing between words. He patted his sergeant on the back and he watched as the sergeant and the other men quickly grabbed at her and pulled off her clothing.


“Now we will be showing you what we do to dirty spies like you, you'll be going back to your family in bags whore!” He yelled. Those were the final words the poor woman heard as the men collectively raped and beat her one after the other as fifty men violated her entire being. The beatings knocked her out halfway through only to be regain consciousness near the end. Her last sight was the Leftenant swinging a sword down upon her neck, removing her head. Under the cover of night they took the body back to the house she had come from earlier, the location found through records in the towns database coincidentally seized in the militarization of the island chain. The next morning her parents found her decapitated head lying next to her body in a pool of dark, stale blood.
 

Warre

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Cry Havoc

It was the appointed time, the appointed hour, the appointed moment. The rabbit was out and running, and the hounds were ready to pounce. Throughout the cold fall air of the northern great sea, the an lyric sea, and the Gulf of Mac Lir, the sons of Warre were ready. As they sat as patient as children for the final order from their master to go baying after the rabbit, they stood at attention, not a word from the normally boisterous people.

It had been a long time in preparation, nationalist spirits stirred over the Kayah Tanah conflicts, over the last decades with the cold war going on with Batavie, and with the constant threat that it placed upon the Caorachstyr islands, and finally with the economic rape of their cousins in Bantyr by the Northern Council. Enough was enough, and the sons of the 90s found the decisions made by their grandfathers to perpetuate peace as false.

In cloistered council of house meetings, things had come in an avalanche, in a tidal wave, over the last few months it came forward from nearly every clanntairn and clanntairna that their clanns believed that the only answer to this was war. The sons of An Lyr could not allow the wallowing of a clock destroy their chances of ever bringing about the glory of old. They could not allow their children to be equal or subservient to lesser men.

And so they went to do the thing that the archaic forms of the Breo-Engellex-Angyln-Havenish language had gotten the name of from their nation; they went to war. They stood at attention on the borders, prepared to defend themselves from the obvious Suionian incursion, they drummed their hands against their guns. Some of the more sadistic of them licked their lips. In troop carriers across the northern Great Sea, they were waiting. In helicopters and planes, paratroopers were flying towards their destinations already.

Suddenly all the radio stations were playing the same song, at all the places where the sons of Warre found themselves waiting to war; the call to Cry Havoc and let lose the hounds of well, their country came forward.

The Haveno-Warreic 'Sylvan Pressleah's' hit song, 'Hound Dog' began to thrumb through speakers and into the ears of commanders in wait. The garrisons, trenches ready made, and castles centuries old, all laid in wait for the Suionians. Thousands of Warreic soldiers dropped from the sky over 'Lyngholm', crying “Warre Go Bragh, Warre go Bragh, Warre go Bragh! Warestyr is Warreic!”

It came too that helicopters and paratroopers surged forward into Eireann, troops from Hyboreas and Caorachstyr flooding in from Caorachstyr's northernmost islands and the Isle of Padraig and Brendyn; troops from the mainland itself flooding in on troop carriers as heavy cruisers and destroyers, as helicarriers as well; all surged towards Ulaid and to make a beach-head.

There would be no forgiving past sins. The Warreic troopers were told to kill any whom raised a gun to them, to tell the Eireannaigh to lay down their arms, and to annihilate the Provincial Militias without hesitation. Anti-tank guns, hunter-killer helicopters, and tanks and artillery all flooded forward as beachheads were laid.

For too long they had been singing 'you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine', but they weren't going to let people refuse them the title of high class any longer. In time they would surge forward to take back what was theirs, including the plains beside the mainland that the Suionians had robbed them for centuries before. Throughout the Northern Seas, the words “Warre go Bragh, Warre go Bragh, Warre go Bragh” could be heard echoed.

Only time would tell, as they headed towards war.
 

Serenierre

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Karachi, Sindh
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Old Quarter, Østfjord


Frederic looked out of the window in his office, an unusually dull day was unfolding outside and the rain pounding hard on the glass. He had found it odd to see rain happening in Østfjord of all places so late in the year – in fact rain and Østfjord met rarely, if ever; was it an omen, he thought to himself. Spread out before him were reports from the Kongelige Etterretningstjeneste (KE) detailing their information about the horrendous attacks on Augsburg.

Though Frederic wasn't too concerned about the happenings on the Old Continent, the sheer audacity of the attack and the destruction that had befallen a true cultural landmark had distressed him greatly. Adding to that, the Sorlandet embassy had been burned down by the fires that enveloped the city after the missile strikes and the ambassador had been evacuated just in the nick of time, escaping with minor burns but with his life in one piece. For the past few days, the images from Augsburg had become his compulsive obsession. That had led to him secretly issuing orders to the armed forces to beef up existing patrols, increase the intelligence gathering and raise the defence level.

Back at home, the election campaign was going firmly in the Conservatives favour, much to Frederic's liking, and the Liberals were bound to lose. He had put up with the impertinent Kjell Fosse for almost five years but these last few weeks were gnawing at his nerves like anything. But since he was supposed to be non-partisan, he kept that excitement bottled up. He was lost in the various streams of thought when his secretary knocked and entered: "Your Majesty," she bowed deeply, "the Warreic ambassador has telephoned to request an audience."

The first thing that crossed his mind was that Lumina would be protesting the postponement of their planned summit. If that was what the man was after, he'd have a tough time convincing the King to change his mind, after all, the major politicians were battling it out and were unavailable to carry out matters of state. But he knew that they knew that. So what could the ambassador wish to discuss, he asked himself. Intrigued, he replied, "Tell him to arrive promptly at five o'clock in the evening."
 

The Federation

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On The Eve Our Destiny


Tickle us, do we not laugh? Prick us, do we not bleed? Wrong us...shall we not revenge?

“On the day of our destiny, you alone hold the power to see our glory restored. Strike at your enemy with the fury of your An Lyric ancestor, let them know the blood of the true northern inhabitant burns within your veins, make them fear you as you carry out our long awaited revenge and as they lay dying at your feet, remember to desecrate their unworthy memory. Today is the first day of our future and the future of your country, your gods, your clan and your family depend upon you. Go forth and reclaim what is rightfully ours.” President Gordon stepped back from the microphone, the padded walls of the recording studio surrounding him, the glass in front of him allowing his sound technicians to see him give the speech. He had written it like all of his other speeches, whereas his predecessors had professional speech writers, he did not and unlike his predecessors his speeches did not sound like manufactured pieces of grammatically correct perfection but rather they sounded like they came straight from the heart. This tactic allowed him to create a closer connection with his people and in this case, his soldiers. It was the eve of his destiny, the day before The Path would soon split again, the future unforeseeable even to the eyes of The Path's custodians. The war would be difficult, that much the nationalist puppeteers had seen, but the fog of war clouded and ruined their ability to forecast the outcomes of their manipulations. There were only plans for victory not defeat, why plan for defeat? They all knew that any defeat scenario would result in the loss of the entire nation as a functioning entity, they would either win and restore their bastardized vision of An Lyr as described in their skewed view of An Lyric history or lose and become slaves to the very offspring of the vikings that had destroyed their glorious empire so many thousands of years ago. President Gordon shuddered to think of such a grim future, he wiped it quickly from his mind and replaced it with the glorious visions of a restored power he had never been able to obtain; the glory of the Republic he loved and that of the Empire from so long ago.


THE GLASS ISLANDS


The sun had already begun setting upon the massive collection of arms and armament now populating the once quiet island chain. The civilians who had the money had picked up and left for the mainland after seeing what had become of their homes, those who stayed dealt the the noises and rowdy soldiers who had now occupied their space awaiting orders. First fleet had now been stationed within the straits and passages between the islands quietly patrolling or awaiting their orders. The day before the plan had been revealed to them, the invasion of Suionia, the beginning of Bantyr's retribution upon the people had damaged their beloved nation. Many days before the soldiers had been taught about the history of the area, how the viking had destroyed their glorious empire and split the Celtic peoples into different nations overall weakening the grip the Celts had upon An Lyr, they were taught how the viking had replaced their revered, peaceful culture with their immoral values, they built cities glorifying their supposed superiority over all others, shunned religion, gave up their sovereignty for riches and at every opportunity tried to force their ways upon the Bantyric. With the soldiers sufficiently riled up, moral was at a high as they were told they had moral superiority over their enemies.


In preparation for the war, many runways and resupply bases had been built all along the glass islands to house the hundreds upon hundreds of aircraft that would be needed to knock out Suionian defenses within southern Suionia, the main focus of the Bantyric invasion force. Many A-6 Intruders and EA-6B Prowlers were prepared for anti-air suppression along with F-14 Tomcat's to protect the main bombing force of B-52 bombers that were being prepared for a surprise terror bombing campaign upon Drottinggarden itself. The entirety of First Fleet would, in conjunction with static cruise missile launchers built all along the Glass Island chain literally bathe all of Southern Suionia from Soderholm to Uppsala with cruise missiles for the entire night as the aircraft did their deeds. Men and women in the technical brigades went along to these static sites, preparing them for launch and reload as the time of attack came closer. The soldiers themselves who were preparing for a ground landing later on in the campaign had been studying the terrain and maps given to them by command, going over supposed military strongholds, high value targets considered important to command, civilian targets and all other things of military interest.


In defense of the islands and high value mainland cities were twice the number of anti aircraft devices such as SAM sites and anti-aircraft frigates watching the skies for any suspected retaliation, the glass islands had received the most defenses so as to shield the rest of mainland Bantyr from retaliation, where as the much smaller Third Fleet was stationed outside of Bantyr's largest port, Port Fiona. Many new RADAR installations had been set up to boost Bantyr's ability to detect any sort of enemy aircraft inbound for attack, whereas guardsmen in the local clan militias had been trained in the use of MANPAD devices such as Stinger missile launchers. Bantyr was prepared for war, the news cleverly depicting these new events as contingencies for an invasion, not a counter-attack, the people who had been taught nothing but fear for many months easily devoured the propaganda.


OPERATION DECAPITATE
Midnight


It had been something of a surprise to the military commanders of Bantyr of Suionia's lack of response to the obvious buildup of troops and materiel on the Glass Islands, some wished to cancel the attack thinking it was a trap, but cooler heads prevailed knowing the Suionian, confident in his security could never imagine an attack on his filthy land. The setting sun had finally passed beyond the horizon, the sky darkening with every passing moment. The clouds had parted as if gods themselves had helped prepare the sky for the Bantyr's soon to be daring assault upon Suionia. Fleet Admiral Neil Craig sat in his chair upon his designated flagship the Aircraft Carrier Dal Riata with the General of the Army Keith Ritchie watched as they green lighted the beginning of the operation with their one time use codes, another code was returned, the confirmation codes of final approval from the President and the Republican Senate. With all confirmation codes green, the Admiral and General issued the order, Operation Decapitate was to begin immediately. With guided missile cruisers Thunderchild and Spear along with the guided missile destroyers Swagger and Reach led their respective flotillas in the launching of tomahawk missiles at designated targets within Suionia. As the ships launched their missiles one by, the static launchers began firing as well, the light of the hundreds of launching missiles bathed the entire island chain in a fiery light as missiles streaked toward air bases, civilian airports, government buildings and military bases in Soderholm, Drottninggarden, Stragnas, Vasteras and as far as Fastning Christina and Lindanas.


As the hundreds of missiles finished firing, twenty B-52's packed with tens of thousands of pounds of bombs had began to loiter above airports as squadrons and formation flights were formed. One hundred and fifty F-14 tomcats and one hundred and fifty A-6 intruders and fifty EA-6B Prowlers launched from air craft carriers Dal Riata and Bangleann and many other ground airbases and began to form up on each other, streaking toward their targets in Suionia behind the massive missile attack. The intruders had been uploaded with information on supposed SAM sites and locations of Suionian ships at dock, detecting the RADAR of the bases and even the RADAR of civilian airports the Intruders began launching their AGM-88 HARM and AGM-84 Harpoon missiles en masse over the horizon at SAM sites and ships, while Prowlers began jamming Suionian frequencies, the intention of the attack was to gain superiority over most of southern Suionia and allow for subsequent attacks upon the military establishment within Suionia.


The Tomcats and B-52's evenly split as they began tracking headings to Drottninggarden and Soderholm, the Intruders and Prowlers ahead of them dispatching SAM sites as they neared. As the B-52's reached their altitude of 30,000 feet and had entered airspace over these cities, the bomb bays simultaneously opened unleashing tens of thousands of pounds of fury upon these cities, with the goal of overwhelming the emergency and rescue establishment of Suionia as their cities burned. F-14 tomcats began engaging any aircraft lucky enough to get off the ground at the time and though they took some casualties, the bombing run had gone on as planned. As the air war over Suionia intensified, 50,000 soldiers were launched from amphibious assault ships and troop transports toward Soderholm. Ground resistance was light as the landing hovercraft began depositing troops, challenger tanks and artillery batteries upon the beaches of Soderland under the cover of fighters and missiles wreaking havoc upon the land, a beach head had been established for a time being as they began setting up artillery and firing it indirectly into nearby towns and known emergency buildings. Terror was their ally, the entire attack had been planned for maximum civilian casualties as they knew the prideful Suionian would never expect an attack from 'weak' Bantyr, but Bantyr was not as weak as they thought and for their unfortunate miscalculation the Suionian would burn to death in a Celtic fury that burned hotter than the sun itself.
 

Warre

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Warr
Kongensrådet Palace
Old Quarter, Østfjord

The Ambassador had moved things forward quickly with the news given from his superiors, and with the fact that he knew his new liege would broke no failure, for the liege of Lubra MacTherran- that is to say the popular will of the Warreic peoples would broke no failure. Born in Hyborea on the Kyrling peninsula, he spoke Solandic as easy as he spoke the smattering of Isaern his half-Isaernic mother had taught him.

He was proud to be Warreic, but did not have the regal flair of his country's other bureaucratic and governmental officials. He was a mere mouse of a man, with ruddy hair and hazel eyes, no more than five foot tall and with a nose that many at school had mocked as 'Nicosian' or worse still; 'Montlimareque'. But it was those same features that made him become a member of the diplomatic cadre, made him learn so many languages and so much. He had a lot of time to listen and read when the other youth wouldn't let him in on a game of Rugby or Hurley or Cluiche Dar Soirc.

He was a pitiful specimen even in spirit, having no less than three failed marriages in his twenty-seven years, and with two of them being thanks to one of his ex-wives luring the other into infidelity with her. It was strange to even consider why he stayed ambassador in a nation as important in trade and relations to Warre as Solandeten, but with the intelligence that gleamed in his eyes, his keen ability to hear, and a diplomatic personality much different from his personal personality; it made sense. Some jokingly called him a 'tiny yapping dog who is really a wolfhound', but others called him a lion in a rat's body. He took no prisoners, and he did things with intent and intelligence. Even now as he stood waiting for the meeting with the King of Sorlandeten, that was true, as the blue-green in his hazel eyes stood out amongst the woad painted triskele on the middle of his forehead. And he stood therein with the sister of the new High King, the previous presumed heiress to the High Kingdom. Aisling Ui Therran, Ui Clan Tyrell. She was silent, almost demure as she brushed her auburn locks from her face.
 

Thaumantica

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"Audacity . ." Felix Ilchester called out to his blank faced ministers of war and propaganda, "Audacity and confidence are our greatest allies, despite Alice's protest, are our most defined racial features as Sons and Daughters of Norsk-Engellexic Heritage."

The Lord Chancellor did not stand, he had no reason to with every so-called man of distinction looking up at him already from their lowly conference table. Felix coldly eyed the Vice-Commandant of his Army, who was of blatantly Germanic heritage, consistently skeptical of all Covenant affairs since Charlotte's War with the European Defence Federation.

"What if Nobility and Peace were Cannie features, Lord Chancellor?" the Vice-Commandant inquired. Beside him sat Lord Henry Caroll, grimacing and filled with the rage of a Mormon scorned. "What if I, the proper Commandant, brandish my firearm and exercise my right of supreme punishment for your traitorous views?". The V.C. scoffed and waved his hands in a frenzy of disbelief, "Never, Henry, please . . Are we bloody colonists?".

Felix winked at Henry Caroll from across the dimly lit room, approving his Commandant to do precisely as he had said. Henry rose to his feet instantly, pressing his unholstered firearm to the chin of his Vice-Commandant. "Forward whom? . . " Henry asked the shocked man, "F-F-F-" the V.C. stuttered, struggling to come to his senses, "Peace by all m . . " Lord Caroll squeeze released a solid lead slug in to the mans unsuspecting skull before he could finish 'means'.

Covenant Continental Dispatch
Encryption Code: Foxtrot
Classification: Victory Restriction
Public Key: file/moose_meets_swan/

M12 H09 D27 Q03 Y2011

From: COVCOM/VESCOM HQIsenbric/HQVesper
To: PORT PROSPERITY ; PORT REDEMPTION ; FOB CHARLOTTE
Subject: DEPLOYMENT ORDERS

The following deployment orders are hereby in effect:


1. All elements of Port Prosperity and Port Redemption are to be mobilized without delay, by order of the Highest Authority.


2. Elements from Port Prosperity will organize under Task Unit Antler ; Elements from Port Redemption will organize under Task Unit Bull.


3. Logistical Command will provide and supplement Port Prosperity with 30,000 Troops. Logistical Command will provide and supplement Port Redemption with 45,000 Troops.


4. Intelligence Task Force West and Intelligence Task Force East are hereby assigned to Intelligence Operation Moosejaw.


5. Expeditionary Propaganda Detachment Anchorage, assigned to Operation Liberty Breaker, is hereby assigned to Propaganda Operation Noble Neutrality. Expeditionary Propaganda Detachment Greenwich, assigned to Operation Homefront Glory, is hereby assigned to Operation Noble Neutrality.
 

Serenierre

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Karachi, Sindh
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Villesen
Kongensrådet Palace
Old Quarter, Østfjord


Sørlandeten and Warre were old partners, with some members of their royal families sharing common ancestries, and had, despite occasional differences in opinion, become one another's traditional allies. The Warreic ambassador, because of that reason, had been granted access to the King rather easily and as he was led into the imposing office of the King. The six-foot four inches monarch towered over the ambassador as he greeted him with a firm handshake and warm smile. After offering the usual round of drinks, the two men took their seats on the sofas which overlooked the grand balcony.

"Herr ambassadør, to what do I owe the pleasure?" the King asked, still smiling, "I hope its not because I postponed the summit we were to have... you know my position on that matter." Though of-course he knew that wasn't the real reason the ambassador was calling on him, the Kongelige Etterretningstjeneste (KE) had issued some reports that detailed some increased military movements in the region, tensions were up and most probably the age old alliance between the two countries was being re-activated.
 

Warre

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Warr
Kongensrådet Palace
Old Quarter, Østfjord

The ambassador waited no time after the greeting of the King of Solandeten. He smiled widely as they shook hands, and turned down any drinks though made a firm show to allow Ayslin anything which she might have wished. She took denied any drinks, and the red-brown haired princess smiled warmly in the direction of Solandeten.

"Oh no, your majesty. Nothing of the sort, we understand your diplomatic reaction- we have called this for another reason. As you know, our new High King has no heir other than his sister. As you also likely know, she is eligible and unmarried. We came here in hopes that you would allow her stay within Sorlandeten with the recent tensions- and also in the hopes that our old bonds of friendship could be brought forward once more. Brother Bantyr has been arming itself frantically since the trade war that the Northern Council committed to towards us, and radical parties have taken hold in Warre as well... soon enough, all too soon- you will find out the news that Warre marches to war."

He nodded, those hazel eyes of his looking into the eyes of the Sorlandetenic King the whole time to reinforce the honesty of his speech and weight of the situation. "We hoped that the old ties of friendship and alliance could be forged anew, and that Sorlandeten would march alongside us. If we can strike our retribution into the Northern Council quickly enough, then it will provide a deterrent. We understand all too well that our Bantyric brothers are going down the path of hypernationialism and feel that Warre and Solandeten standing against the Northern Council will provide a tool for victory, and a powerful deterrent to Bantyr if it succeeds and eyes hungrily elsewhere."

He was uncharacteristically prompt and precise, not mincing a word and not hesitating. The very fact that he was so straight forward should have made clear the weight of the situation upon his mind.
 

Serenierre

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Karachi, Sindh
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Kongensrådet Palace
Old Quarter, Østfjord


Frederic was unhappy with the ambassador for not informing him in advance about the Princess' presence but assumed that her arrival in Østfjord must have been arranged with great haste. As King, a rank above her, Frederic greeted her with a courteous nod and smile, beckoned her to take the best seat. He listened to the ambassador quietly, "As a testament to the great friendship among our two nations, I can confidently say that Her Highness The Princess Ayslin shall be welcomed as a personal guest of the sovereign of this land through difficult times. However," he paused for a moment, "It is my opinion," he said forcefully, "that Her Highness' presence be concealed from the general media... for security purposes. But," turning his attention to the Princess, "you shall fit in well with Her Majesty The Queen and her entourage... there, I can say with firm faith, lies no soul who shall betray my trust."

He frowned, "Bantyr has been behaving in a manner not to our liking," he said, half to himself and half to the Ambassador, "The Kingdom of Sorlandeten, for some time, cannot be directly involved... as you realize our government is new and lacks a firm foundation to decide on war... but as King it is firmly in my power to decide that the ancient ties that have bound our nations must be activated... and in that vein I offer, at-least initially so, financial support of a degree much greater than that we are offering other states that share our interests. Short of declaring outright war, my armed forces will assist your forces where possible." Raising his hand to signal his mind was made up, "That is all I can offer for now."

As the Ambassador rose to leave, Frederic said, "Her Highness shall be a guest of the sovereign and as such I officially invite her to retain residence in the Palace... do communicate that to the High King."
 

Jydsken-Østveg

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Stavanger
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Coro (Skepps)
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(The Prize)
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(Cry havoc)

Tre timmar före attacken i Fästning Brigitta
Three Hours Before the Attack in Fästning Brigitta


Patrik looked at his watch. One hour before class would end and he could go home. He stared out the window and yawned. His class was not particularly enjoyable, nor was it interesting. He didn't enjoy school. He planned to be a soldier, just like his father. His mother hated when he said that. She didn't seem to like his father's job. She worked in an office downtown. She ran an export and imports company which handled a good amount of the goods that came and went through Lyngholm. He picked up his pencil and began to doodle on the margins around his notes. Notes that even he found mostly illegible. Drawing a moose with a hockey stick tripping on the ice with a toe pick. He smiled as he drew the moose's mouth. "Patrik!" a voice shouted breaking his thought process. Startled he looked up at his teacher. "Yes?" he replied with a guilty look on his face. Lena(*) looked at him with a look on her face that he knew wasn't good. She smiled and asked, "How is it that you can pay attention while drawing Älg on the notes?" Patrik cleared his throat before he candidly retorted, "It takes a lot of talent that I've cleverly refined over the years of not paying attention in class." The class laughed. Even Lena, his teacher had a smile on her face perhaps trying to hold back a laugh. Or so he had hoped. Lena didn't hate him, but sometimes he thought that he tested her patience. She continued on with her lecture. "Lyngholm is the capital of our island Lyngholm. Why is it not here in Fästning Brigitta?" There was a short pause before another classmate answered, "Because in 1957 the Celts there rioted, and as per the 1958 agreement, administrative duties would be in placed in Lyngholm rather than here in Fästning Brigitta, even though, they had been here since for over hundred years." She nodded and added, "Because of this, riots had subsided mostly unlike the beginning of this last year." Another classmate answered in retort, "But wasn't that due to spies and stuff from Warr?" Lena smiled and casually responded, "Well this cannot be proven, although many of us believe so. So, no... they did not... that would be the politically correct thing to say." Patrik could tell that she believed the angry Celts across the water had something to do with it. It seemed more and more that war was going to be necessary with them, but the current government wasn't willing to do it. Götarike had not been to war in ages, and governments almost seemed to make this a tradition. Götarike did it's best not to offend anyone, and the worst that had happened via their foreign policy in the last 100 years was probably them threatening to sink fishing ships because of over fishing. Which was silly.

Stupid celts. Inbred, all of them. The small amount of Celts in Lyngholm who did try to maintain that pure blood had such a small gene pool, they were known to have a larger degree of birth defects. There was a questionnaire at the hospital you had to answer to figure out if you were a pure blooded celt, just in case you might have had an undetected defect or problem. 1 in 5 Celts generally did. (§)

Patrik continued to go off on the thought in his mind as class continued.

Lyngholm was a pretty island though. Very hilly, but very green with vast green fields across the island. Most of the areas there were nice people who didn't care for politics. They cared for the land. He always wondered with they'd think if Lyngholm were independent, but generally, he thought, they would just continue on with life as per usual. Lyngholmstad was in the south. Fästning Brigitta was in the north. Two roads which connected them that went along the east and western coasts of the island. Nothing but dirt roads that were unmapped in the middle. Why didn't they map them? He was broken off by Lena's voice as another classmate stopped speaking.

Lena continued, "Lyngholm today, is a multi-cultural island. You should know, being residents here... that Lyngholmstad, has an estimated 90% ratio of citizens who are believed to have some degree of Celtic heritage. This is what makes the Celtic movement fascinating, because most aren't even of pure blood. Pure blooded Celts on the entire island are believed to be less than 10%. As we know, this minority is very vocal, however, even they aren't united. Some want special privileges from Drottninggården, others want independence, others than unification with Warr, and others want unification with Eireann. It can be very complex trying to weigh all of these opinions. Which is why in the local Parliament, Celtic parties together make up 68% of Parliament; however, they aren't necessarily in the same alliance... Does anybody know anything about the politics of Fästning Brigitta?"

Patrik actually decided to speak up here. He actually cared about city politics here, and simply this was simply because he didn't want politics in Lyngholmstad to dominate Fästning Brigitta which was composed of mostly native Swedes from the mainland via their military roots or current deployment in the military. "Our politics are firmly based on peace and the union. Moderaterna(#) dominates the city as of the last election, which is also the current governing alliance leader. It's worth noting, that the current government is in the wake of its worst approval ratings ever because of the wake of the entire economic crisis."

Lena looked him as he spoke nodding. "It's also very important to note, that this area has long been a Moderaterna stronghold because of the Moderaterna governments of the 30's that established the naval base expansion in the area. It was also Socialdemokraterna in the 60's the prevented the addition of the Air Force base on the island in efforts to keep relations cool between Götarike, Warr and Batavië." She looked at her watch. "It's nearly five o'clock, continue to read in your history book up until chapter six, we'll have a test next week. Have a nice day and enjoy the sunlight. Days are getting shorter after all!"

Patrik literally stuffed his notebook into his bag and quickly walked out. "Bye! See you tomorrow!" he yelled back as he walked out the door.

Walking out of the school he continued down the road to the small plaza where he ran into his girlfriend Annika.

En timme före attacken i Fästning Brigitta
One Hour Before the Attack in Fästning Brigitta


Patrik usually spent his time at the docks waiting for his father's shift to end. There he usually spent time with his girlfriend Annika. They didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but she was the only one who actually understood him to any degree and her father was friends with his father. Her parents were divorced though. She stayed with her father because she didn't want to leave him behind, although her family didn't necessarily approve of her staying behind on Lyngholm.

Sitting at the edge of the dock looking slowly watching the sunlight disappeared they weren't really talking at all. He didn't have much on his mind, but he did want to make out. That notion made him smile, because he always wanted to make out, but he knew better not to start without her actually showing some interest. It needed some kind of lead up with her, and he didn't want to put in the effort today. She was reading a book laying down on her back. He admired the waves for awhile. Followed a bird circling overhead for quite some time too. Eventually he decided that it made himself dizzy and that perhaps he needed to think about something else. Soon making himself wonder how odd it was that he could make himself dizzy and talk to himself about it. They hadn't talked for nearly ten minutes when she finally sat up and put her book into her bag. The sun was nearly down and she was having trouble reading. "I'm cold, let's go home," she finally spoke. She finally spoke! "No, I want to wait for dad," Patrick retorted. A few moments of silence passed and she finally angrily responded, "Well at least keep me warm then! Where is your head today? Give me your sweater."

He gave her the sweater at the bottom of his bag, "Sorry, there is a lot on my mind." She gave him a puzzled look. "You were looking at the birds the entire time I was reading. If that is a lot on your mind, I can't imagine what you are thinking about when you debate about which chocolate bar you'd like from the machine in the lobby." He gave her a friendly push and she laughed.

Interrupting their smiles was a loud noise as several Gripens flew over head and sirens began to sound. Several helicopters flew off in the distance and it wasn't something that seemed normal. Men came out running to the ships that were docked as many began to quickly move out to sea. Within thirty minutes all of the ships had made it out to sea. The entire since was shocking to both Patrik and Annika.

It was then that an older gentlemen in uniform quickly walked out and shouted at the two of them. "Quickly! Get inside, this is an emergency!" The sound of more helicopters could be heard and then the sound of machine gun fire. The two ran as quickly as they could to the elderly man covering their ears. Machine gun fire began to be fired back at the at the shore from the helicopters and anti-aircraft guns then began to go off. Some missiles from the ships that were still near the shore quickly tore through a helicopter as the sky became a battle zone. Helicopters that did manage to get through dropped small men who landed in the countryside. Patrik finally directed his vision inside where the elderly man, a Commander had taken a seat. His name tag showed the name 'Lindberg' carved into a silver metallic box.

"Patrik and Annika... yes?" Shocked, he knew their names Patrik chimed in, "Lindberg, what is going on? How do you know who I am?" Lindberg smiled, "Call me Anders. Your fathers got onto their ship and went out to sea. It was important that moved them out of here in case the base was the goal of the Warrisk to take this base. It's become apparent that it was not. They've moved most of their helicopters to Lyngholmstad. We were caught by surprise. Not entirely, but enough to be unable to stop their initial wave from achieving their goals of paratrooping onto the island." Annika immediately interjected at the first pause that she could, "Why are you telling us all of this?" Anders held back a short chuckle, "Because you are going to want to know why your fathers aren't coming back for you. Not at least any time soon. Plus you cannot leave here. You won't have internet access, you won't have a computer. I can tell you nearly anything, and it does not compromise my operation because you now live here on this base. Do you have any other questions before I continue?" They both shook their heads. He coughed a little and spoke in a more whispy voice, "The Warrisk will easily hold this island unless we land troops here. This is merely a major naval based by tradition. We don't have large garrisons for troops. We merely have ammunition and families. From what I've been told, no troops are coming here. The Lundqvist government has no interest in fighting Warrike. Especially over this small island. Fighting a war with Warrike will only led to thousands if not millions killed between the both of our countries. She will look for a diplomatic solution, no doubt. Until then, we are to stay put and defend this town."

Patrik shook his head in disbelief. The gunfire could no longer be heard. Helicopters had stopped trying to come in and out. The ships would begin to move towards Arendaal for safe haven.

* - Götarike is very informal on titles, teachers aren't called Mrs. Holmström for example, they would be called by their first name. Similar, the Commander was called by his name, not by any kind of title like "Sir" when Patrik addressed him. Anders, as his first name was also suitable for Patrik to refer to him as.

§ - This statistic was stolen from a similar situation in Quebec, where efforts to maintain racial, linguistic, religious, and cultural purity led to a great deal of inbreeding (purposely and often unpurposely) and has led to a similar situation with modern Quebecois. It's not a massive problem by any means, but could fuel the fire of those who dislike them, as it was shown here.

# - Moderaterna, is Swedish for "the Moderates" which is the party currently in control of my government. They are also the "conservatives" in my country for those unfamiliar with my country's politics.

Additionally: Please see the OOC attachment I've written in the OOC thread.
 

Thaumantica

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___________________
FOREIGN OFFICE
VESPER : : September 2011

To the Honourable Sons & Daughters of Noble Heritage Residing in Oceania, Gentlemen of the Diplomatic Missions, and Gentlemen of the Foreign and Domestic Press:

I have called all of you to attention in order to address certain issues which are, in the opinion of the Cantigian Covenant, of the utmost importance to the well-being and neutrality of all pure peoples of Oceania. In the name of the Covenant, I have the following remarks to make concerning Oceanic Neutrality:

In the Month of September, the War Barons of Bantyr and Warre declared war on the natural global peace of Svearnas Konungariket. There was no legitimate political, economic, or military Casus-belli for said declarations. The Cannie people and their Queen have since constantly reaffirmed their intention and desire to live in peace and friendship with the Norsk peoples. The Can-Norsk people have accepted with solemn determination the duty that has been thrust upon them. The scheme of the An Lyric War Barons is to take away the rights of the Norsk people and to ruin them across the globe. Since they knew that a direct attack on the Svearnas Konungariket would draw all territories of the Greater Svearnas Democracy, they must have calculated that all Oceanic Peoples would be drawn to war by default.

This, in the view of both Queen & Lord Chancellor, is only conducive to that ultimate aim of irreversible carnage. Cantigny will thus ensure that there is no invasion of Celtic Troops into the Oceanic Colonies of Suionia, nor an offensive launch by Suoinia from her colonies. The conspiracy against Oceanic Peace, the True Peace, shall not be hatched under the watchful eye of The Covenant. In light of World War, violence that can be found in our Mother Country Engellex, and deep in the faithful catacombs of Solaren, Cantigny will cast a shadow of protection over Oceanic Peoples forever.

It therefore seems infinitely reasonable to The Covenant to take immediate measures to assume greater preparedness for any emergency, so that it would be possible to intervene at any moment. By order of the Lord Chancellor, with earnest approval from Her Majesty the Queen, the Army of The Covenant will cooperate with the Covenant fleet to sail anywhere to intervene immediately if harmony is disrupted as we expect it to be.
Forward Cantigny!
Benjamin Stokes,
Chief Officer

Noble Neutrality
0400 - Port Prosperity (TU - Antler)

Early. Too damn early in the morning to be rustling about. Too damn early to be loading on to cramped transports with drunk or hungover soldiers. SFC. Bradley flicked the cherry off his cigarette hesitantly, it might be the last until stepping foot on to foreign soil. This was his first expeditionary military exercise, despite eighteen years of service, the Army of the Commonwealth had never ordered its Army overseas for any mission.

"A different time, certainly . . " he remarked to a junior enlisted soldier, blank faced but bright eyed with fear or excitement. Bradley felt the coldness of the ships rails, the transport he trudged in to with a yawning Platoon behind him, sensing every imperfection in the iron beneath his gloved hand. Iron had so many imperfections, Bradley thought, yet Iron was precisely what the Chancellor dreamed of: a harsh and cold fury whilst the people's idle minds slept.

Still it was not money, nor fear, that inspired his commitment to this blind and potentially violent cause. His World was at War. Cousins from the Motherland, Great Engellex, had written letters directly from the front in Montelimar; caked with mud and blood from a conflict so distant SFC. Bradley struggled to imagine. It could not spread to Oceania, this war between crowns on ancient battlegrounds, the Army simply had to deter both Celt and Norsk from incurring the sins of Ancient Warlords unto the pureborn Sons and Daughters of Norse-Engellexic Oceania. Deep, oh so deep, did the prejudice run amongst the Army of the Covenant towards half-cast Celts and the wild eyed Bantyric berserker.

Aerial Combat Machines were nowhere to be seen or heard, but Bradley watched as Aerial Corpsmen loaded on, dressed in dark black overcoats and an angry gray camouflage pattern that could only be matched with iron. It was unclear what air defense existed in the Suionian colonies, or even what reinforcement from Covenant Air Support it could sustain. The Unknowns were great and numerous, specifically from the Aerial contribution to military operations. The Navy seemed certain, precise even, in its intended course and combat load - while the Army postured with confidence, literal ignorance, to what they might face at any given moment as they peered down the barrel of their guns.
 

Serenierre

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16 October 2011​

Barely two weeks into his term of office, the realities and burdens of the office had descended upon Lars Edmundsen. Sitting in his private study, he was receiving the latest information on all covert activities of his government in the Great War raging across the world. The fast advancing war machine of Engellex was overpowering the Montelimarian forces and the EDF stood silent and unmoving.

A gentle nod in his direction told the Minister of Intelligence to begin, "Sir, as per His Majesty's agreements with his counterpart in Dulwich, oil shipments are proceeding smoothly and little, if any, interference is occurring in our supplies routes. The Royal State Oil Council has managed to pull the right strings with all the companies and all seven producers are firmly in tow with government policy."

The Chancellor heard him quietly, nodding, urging him to continue.

"As of this week, an estimated 890 million krone worth of oil has been shipped to various Engellex ports from late-September. Additionally, the Finance Ministry has expanded its efforts to purchase Engellex bonds, utilizing a string of KSEB contacts and intermediaries, which have been expanded by over a billion Krone in the period mentioned in the report."

"Minister Peterssen," Edmundsen said to the man, "I would like to know what has been done with the double agent arrested earlier this week. Has she talked?"

"Well, considering the woman was caught red-handed dropping off sensitive information in regards to our covert activities in various theaters of the current conflict, there isn't much to confess... however she is in solitary confinement and advanced interrogation techniques are being utilized to deliver a concrete answer who she was working for. It's only a matter of time till she breaks..." he paused looking at one of his papers, "Besides, if she doesn't, His Majesty has authorized her execution."

"OK." He remained silent for a moment, thinking about the woman who had betrayed her country. "But Minister Peterssen, before you dispatch the execution decree, do consult with me."

"Yes, Mr. Chancellor"

"Minister Hellesen," he looked at the Minister of Defence. She opened her file and listened to man's query. "What is the status of our deliveries to the High Kingdom?"

"Considering the nature of the deliveries and the hurriedness in operations, the supply chain is sluggish at the moment. But the MoD's connections within the arms sector assure us that the delays are only expected to last for a few weeks before they settle into a set pattern."

"Have the Engellex contacted us over arms shipments?"

"No, they haven't as yet. Though they might after they exhaust their supplies."

"Right." Looking over to the Foreign Minister, he began, "And on your front?"

"The Cantigny Foreign Office is being contacted over their policy in regards to the Northern Great Sea. Our official stance will be to persuade Vesper to cease its meddling in affairs within our sphere of influence. I shall personally speak with Mr. Stokes and tell him that our newly cemented alliance stands a firm chance of weakening."

"Handle it with care,"

"As always," the Foreign Minister replied with a smile.

Clearing his throat, Edmundsen began, "Alright, over this week, the MoD is tasked with mobilizing the Kongelige Spesialkommando (KSK) to be prepared to deploy with allied forces and conduct covert operations behind enemy lines – a status that shall only be downgraded by me or His Majesty," he said, with firmness that surprised him.

"On the foreign front, as we just said, get the Cantigny government to back off a bit... they can flex their muscles publicly... in the press but we cannot allow them to turn this regional thing into an even bigger mess. Secondly, we're assisting Dulwich in a big way and they know it... try to get some meeting set up with them... we can't just go on supporting people who haven't talked face to face with us over the current matters."

Lastly he looked at the Minister for Intelligence, "The KSEB is to upgrade its counter-espionage operations... after last week's incident... we really dodged a bullet there. Let's not let it happen again," he said icily.

Edmundsen stood up and walked out of the conference room, if he timed it right, he thought to himself, he could sneak a five minute lunch break before he began the next meeting with the provincial delegation from Våletsenstad.
 

Jydsken-Østveg

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OPERATION DECAPITATE
Midnight

It had been something of a surprise to the military commanders of Bantyr of Suionia's lack of response to the obvious buildup of troops and materiel on the Glass Islands, some wished to cancel the attack thinking it was a trap, but cooler heads prevailed knowing the Suionian, confident in his security could never imagine an attack on his filthy land. The setting sun had finally passed beyond the horizon, the sky darkening with every passing moment. The clouds had parted as if gods themselves had helped prepare the sky for the Bantyr's soon to be daring assault upon Suionia. Fleet Admiral Neil Craig sat in his chair upon his designated flagship the Aircraft Carrier Dal Riata with the General of the Army Keith Ritchie watched as they green lighted the beginning of the operation with their one time use codes, another code was returned, the confirmation codes of final approval from the President and the Republican Senate. With all confirmation codes green, the Admiral and General issued the order, Operation Decapitate was to begin immediately. With guided missile cruisers Thunderchild and Spear along with the guided missile destroyers Swagger and Reach led their respective flotillas in the launching of tomahawk missiles at designated targets within Suionia. As the ships launched their missiles one by, the static launchers began firing as well, the light of the hundreds of launching missiles bathed the entire island chain in a fiery light as missiles streaked toward air bases, civilian airports, government buildings and military bases in Soderholm, Drottninggarden, Stragnas, Vasteras and as far as Fastning Christina and Lindanas.
Explosions rocked the cities and airports as Prime Minister Lundqvist was awoken and ushered into underground hiding. Brought down to her nuclear safe bunker from her bedroom, she was given the reports from the military generals who were already bunkered down there. "Prime Minister, we've been attacked by cruise missiles via Bantyr. They have air support, bombers and troops on the way. We've been given all of this information via the 1st naval fleet. They spotted the missiles with a visual and have begun battle with the incoming air forces. We've managed to gather a great deal of our fighters airborne in response. It would seem the Bantyric have launched everything at us at once." Hannah paused. It was real now. The war against Warr was only a distraction. It made sense why the Warreic failed to reply to queries and failed to even launch any sort of secondary attack. "General, tell the Admiral he has a green light on a response. Target military targets only. What a waste of munitions to attack the populous. Use the strategic chart we drew up for defense when we came near war with Bantyr over the fishing fleets." The General nodded and an aide ran to a nearby phone. Hannah continued, "Are they nuclear?" The General shook his head, "From what we understand they aren't. The Bantyric don't have nuclear weapons technology. Hannah nodded, "Well, the moment a nuclear explosion is detected you have my permission to fire in response."

There was a slight pause as she gathered herself. "Make sure the navy responds to their invasion fleet."

As the hundreds of missiles finished firing, twenty B-52's packed with tens of thousands of pounds of bombs had began to loiter above airports as squadrons and formation flights were formed. One hundred and fifty F-14 tomcats and one hundred and fifty A-6 intruders and fifty EA-6B Prowlers launched from air craft carriers Dal Riata and Bangleann and many other ground airbases and began to form up on each other, streaking toward their targets in Suionia behind the massive missile attack. The intruders had been uploaded with information on supposed SAM sites and locations of Suionian ships at dock, detecting the RADAR of the bases and even the RADAR of civilian airports the Intruders began launching their AGM-88 HARM and AGM-84 Harpoon missiles en masse over the horizon at SAM sites and ships, while Prowlers began jamming Suionian frequencies, the intention of the attack was to gain superiority over most of southern Suionia and allow for subsequent attacks upon the military establishment within Suionia.
As the Bantyric Air Forces blazed on a crash course with Suionia, the 1st Fleet began to launch their F-35's from their carriers. Soon following were their EA-18G Growlers to provide a blanket of protection for the fleet. They moved quickly but wouldn't be able to join the battle until the battle was already taking place. The carrier launched aircraft would trap the Bantyric forces and leave them cornered as they attempted to return home, low on fuel and not expecting a fight as they turned around.

The Tomcats and B-52's evenly split as they began tracking headings to Drottninggarden and Soderholm, the Intruders and Prowlers ahead of them dispatching SAM sites as they neared. As the B-52's reached their altitude of 30,000 feet and had entered airspace over these cities, the bomb bays simultaneously opened unleashing tens of thousands of pounds of fury upon these cities, with the goal of overwhelming the emergency and rescue establishment of Suionia as their cities burned. F-14 tomcats began engaging any aircraft lucky enough to get off the ground at the time and though they took some casualties, the bombing run had gone on as planned. As the air war over Suionia intensified, 50,000 soldiers were launched from amphibious assault ships and troop transports toward Soderholm. Ground resistance was light as the landing hovercraft began depositing troops, challenger tanks and artillery batteries upon the beaches of Soderland under the cover of fighters and missiles wreaking havoc upon the land, a beach head had been established for a time being as they began setting up artillery and firing it indirectly into nearby towns and known emergency buildings. Terror was their ally, the entire attack had been planned for maximum civilian casualties as they knew the prideful Suionian would never expect an attack from 'weak' Bantyr, but Bantyr was not as weak as they thought and for their unfortunate miscalculation the Suionian would burn to death in a Celtic fury that burned hotter than the sun itself.
The initial defense
As fast as they could, JAS 39 Gripens took off. They had minutes as the first missiles hit the eastern coastal targets, but the Air Force managed to get a good deal of them out of the hangers and if they weren't in the hangers, as was the case in most hidden bases in the forests where usually entire squadrons were parked, they got into the air. Jets stuck at airpors near the cities had more trouble. However, those who got out of the hangers managed to take off via the street. It was the benefit of the JAS 39 Gripen. It required extremely limited space to take off. Runways weren't needed. The Gripens attacked the Bantyric Air Forces around the coasts, targeting bombers first and dealing with fighters and jammers whenever they could.

Unsuspecting such an aerial defense, many of the initial Bantyric jets couldn't dodge the initial wave of missiles that came at them. The Bantyric were now in a full fledged dogfight dealing with SAM sites and Gripens. The benefit to the Gripens was that the F-14 was not the best for dog-fighting against the newer sleeker Gripen, designed for aerial defense.

The air battle raged as several bombers dropped. Cities impacted the worst by bombers were coastal and eastern, as their payloads managed to drop on Drottninggården and Söderholm. However any thought that these aggressors would get out alive was washed away when F-35s began to appear from behind. Bringing their own EA-18G Growlers who could certainly pack a punch themselves. Their electronic jamming blanket gave the Suionian forces a late advantage.

Söderland landing and the "green light is given"
As amphibious assault ships and troop transports began to move their way towards Söderland the Suionian navy countered. The 1st Fleet fired their Bofors cannons at the ships trying to move towards Söderland. 2 Stockholm Class Corvettes hawked the landing ships and three Gripens from Southern Söderland took off and attempted to pick up the pieces.

On board the HMS Karlskrona, a Visby Class Stealth Corvette, the go ahead was given to launch a counter attack. Via their own cruise missiles, strikes were orders all over the Glass Islands on all military sites. A second volley was then fired to attack known coastal military bases on the Bantyric mainland. In total hundreds of missiles flew towards Bantyric military sites.

After the the 2 Stockholm Class Corvettes had finished with the amphibious defenses, they then launched their own volley into Bantyric cities, attacking automobile factories, plane factories and the harbors of major fishing and shipping sites. This order however wasn't given by the Prime Minister. It was given by the Admiral with the goal of ruining the ability of Bantyric shipping and fishing from supplying food to Bantyr. She would be furious upon hearing the news later...

Five in the Morning
Prime Minister Lundqvist sat in her chair biting the end of the eraser of her pen. From what she understood, Drottninggården was burning down. It would take days to get the fires out. The time of year was helpful, as rains would help the work of civilians and firefighters working to put the city out. She got reports that Söderholm was also leveled. The good news was that the assault had been held back. Her Air Force had been dropped to nearly 50% capacity at the moment but her Navy was still strong, and it was the focal point of the Suionian empire's defense. The 1st and 2 Fleets were now repositioning themselves and the Fjalladrottning fleet was now on it's way via Öland, where it would meet up with the Öland coastal defense. She had orders constant AWACS surveillance to alert her of future missile strikes.

She sighed and put her head down on her desk. She was still in her silk pajamas and felt tired as hell. She walked to her closet and changed into a suit. Immediately afterwards walking to the Press Room and giving a speech... "Ladies and Gentlemen. Late in the night, the Kingdom of Götarike was suddenly attacked by the Bantyric peoples of the East. They have worked to level our cities and deliberately attack our people, attacking us with a ruthlessness unknown to any civilized society. It is our intention to respond. ...and we have, as we launched a counter attack upon Bantyr soon after their attack, with the immediate goal of rendering them unable to initiate another attack. We believe this goal to have been a great success. We call upon our allies of the Karlskrona Accord to aid us in defeating the Celtic menace that will not stop attacking us until we are dead. They first waged war upon our markets, then they waged a war in blood. Due to this attack, there is no peace until Suionia is one. We will not retreat from Lyngholm. We will not retreat from Eireann. We will not retreat from our homes and we will take the fight to the Celts. Today although Drottninggården may burn, tomorrow it will be washed away clean and rise again in victory. Unfortunately, my time available is short... but I will be in touch via the net and television and radio." She stopped speaking and walked off her small make shift podium and the feed cut.

At which point radios and televisions went back to their usual programming. Mostly full of helicopters taking video of burning cities and angry radio DJs demanding blood in return.

OOC {
An OOC attachment to this is being written in the OOC tread.
}
 

Serenierre

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"Madame Knudsen," he shook her outstretched hand, "I welcome you to the Residence." Since defeating her in the election just two weeks previously, this was Edmundsen's first official meeting with the Opposition Leader;*a momentous occasion in his eyes, warranting a degree of showmanship. He led her into the state drawing room, a large opulent chamber dating back to the original Residence first erected during Rikard Olafssen's chancellorship, back in the mid-eighteenth century.

Christina Knudsen took her seat on the sofa facing the new man in charge. The former foreign minister declined any refreshments when offered, eager, instead, to get the discussion for which she was summoned started. The introductory comments were dull and bland, though always polite, clearly written by souls with lesser egos in each politician's clique. It was odd, Knudsen thought to herself, to see Edmundsen in a non-hostile environment after the intense campaigning of the month before.

"Damen Knudsen," he said before clearing his throat, "As per the last report dispatched to your office, our covert initiatives in the War in Gallia have been significantly expanded in the interests of Engellex. Oil shipments will reach one billion Krone soon and the Finance Ministry will be increasing our holdings in their bonds by just as much." He glanced at the paper in his lap for a moment and then back at the woman. "But the real reason I have chosen to have this meeting is to discuss the potential situation in our own backyard of Scania."

"The situation in the Scanian theater is such that we may be called upon by our allies to deploy limited forces to assist in strategic goals..." he trailed off.

Knudsen arched her eyebrow, "Lord Chancellor," she said, using the official term, "My own stance on the issue is to continue limited engagements and to covertly provide support to the Warreic assualt... but I do see the situation. From my side, I can say that as long as nothing happens to drag us into a war... I can support your policies... and keep my backbenchers quiet."

"Thank you," he said, genuinely relieved.

"However," she began, "when you say 'deploy limited forces to assist in strategic goals', what exactly do you mean?"

"Well," he said, taken aback by the surprise question, "I mean to say that KSK* units may be asked to carry out special operations... maybe even utilizing our submarine fleet to disrupt enemy supply lanes or target key sites – all the while clinging to our own neutrality in the matter until such time that it is fortuitous for us to become fully involved."

"Well," she said, standing up, "We shall see, Lord Chancellor."

OOC:
* - KSK are the Special Forces.
 
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Austriavakia/Frescania
Underground bunker – undisclosed location

All the television channels had the situation in Scania on, which was not helping the atmosphere in the room. The surprise attack and the following declaration of war between Suionia and its neighbors shocked many.

President Serrano was looking at the information that was available to him and what Jonas Ingmarsson , the Suionian ambassador, could give him. A two front war was disastrous, yet there was nothing the Northern Kingdom could do.

Chancellor Carmelas was next to both men. Procedure made it so that both the Chancellor and the President, together with the top leadership, were to be together and move frequently between the bunker chains the government had constructed for invasion. It was rare to see foreigners, however, Mr. Ingmarsson and other top delegates from the Suionian delegation were given permission so that communication between the two nations could be maintain.

The question in everyone's mind was not what to do, but how to go about it. If something was clear, it was the Republican Navy's role. It was the armed forces that became an issue. What exactly were they to do? If invade, how would they travel safely north? The order to mobilized had be given already, but the nation was not fully ready.

“Mr. President, we have to find a way to help Suionia while we mobilize. This should take roughly 48 hours.”
“Sir, I recommend an air campaign. We must control the airspace of both our nations and theirs. Until them, we won't be able to land any troops if we decide to do so”
“Mr. President...”
“Mr. President...”
“Mr. President...”

Gabriel Serrano did not run for the presidency to get involved in a war. A former general of the armed forces, he could command them, but it always pain him to do so. He looked at the Suionian ambassador as he talked with his colleagues and making frantic attempts to contact their families. He turned to Miguel Carmelas, who was talking with members of the Parliamentary delegation allowed in the same bunker as the president. Surely, they were working for ways to fund the war effort.

“Generals, what are our plans?”
“Mr. President, we should first move a good portion of our navy north. This should be done as fast as possible so as to provide Suionia breathing room.”
“Sir, we should also begin aerial assaults in military and industrial installations in Warre and Bantyr. Before doing this do, we should launch some of our missiles against air defenses and other installations we can hit.”
“As for our soldiers, Sir, I recommend we stabilize the air and sea before planning any attempts of invasion. They should stay here and protect the country.”

Serrano walked towards the map where the nations were highlighted. Suionia and Frescania were marked red, while Bantyr and Warre wer marked in black. Movements of troops were shown, or at least the ones that were given to Defense from Suionian intelligence. Either way, it was time to give orders.

“Admiral Alvarez, order the Navy to send as much help as necessary north. Tell them to attack any enemy ships seen in sight.”
“General Guzman, order all troops to be on high alert and the same goes with our defense systems. We might have to defend our own nation from missile attacks.
General Mendes-France, order some sections of our air force to protect our air space, and see if we can send some relief planes up north.
General Raymond, get me the codes for all our missiles, we might have to start using them.
Ambassador Ingmarsson, call your government and tell them Frescania will honor the Karlskrona Accords.
Chancellor Carmelas, gather the necessary votes for a declaration of war and to put our resources into the war effort. If we have to nationalize, we'll do it.
I will speak to the nation and the international community soon. I want all orders ready as soon as possible, specially all attacks we decided upon.”

Cuts to News Channel

My fellow Citizens,

As we watch with horror and disgust at the unprovoked invasion of Suionia, we saw in terror as innocent people were attacked by the forces of Warre and Bantyr. We are horrified at the this attack and strongly condemn it.

After lengthy discussion with members of our government and the officers of our armed forces, we have agreed that Frescania, as a democratic nation and an allied of Suionia, will not stay idle by as imperialist forces invade a fellow democratic state. It is with consensus of our government that I have activated the Karlskrona Accord and have ordered the mobilization of our armed forces. Furthermore, I have order missile strikes upon defensive and military installations of Warre and Bantyr. Further orders have will be given to our forces.

I have asked Chancellor Carmelas to provide the necessary votes for a declaration of war against the imperialist nations of Warre and Bantyr. Frescania will honor its alliance with Suionia and will stand in the front against imperialism. We call on other democratic nations to join us in this fight. Democracy cannot survive if we are not willing to fight for its survival. Democracy will prevail.

Goodnight.

Serrano put down his microphone and looked at the Generals.

"Start the attacks."
"Yes, Sir."
 
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Cry Havoc - Na hÉireann

As soon as Áth Cliath had detected the first sounds of war chants coming from Warre and Bantyr, chants directed not only at Suionia, but at Éireann as well, the Óglaigh (Defence Forces) had been on alert with even the Kern being mobilized, something that has only been done when the threat of war approaches a certainty. With the wars breaking out all over Gallia-Germania, the hÉireannaigh knew that it would only be a matter of time before their cousins across the Aren Sea would follow suit and pick up the sword and march into battle, even if that battle happened to be with their kinsmen. It was not like the hÉireannaigh feared going to war, as like their Warreic and Bantyric cousins, they were still a warrior race, but in the modern age, the average Éireannach found he needed a greater reason to go to war than war itself, but if war it thrust him, he will fight with the same courage and spirit as that of his ancestors that drove the Vikings from Éireann over a millenium ago. As they have ever since, the Warriors of Éireann watch the seas for the approach of the enemy, but instead of the dragon-head longboats of the Norsk, now it is the aircraft and gray steel warships of their Gaelic bretheren they must now defend their homeland against, bretheren that have threaten to turn the emerald shores of Éireann crimson with the blood of her people.

Though the spirit amoungst the Óglaigh is the same as those who followed Máel mac Domnall Uí Néill into battle against the Vikings, instead of sword, axe, spear and bow, today it is the bullet, the shell, the bomb and the missile that now will spill the blood of invader and defender alike, and though less personal and in many cases far more indescriminate than it was in the days of old, whether it is done by a blow of a battle axe or a 5.56mm bullet from an assault rifle, dead is still dead.

The invaders from Warre were spotted long before they even could see the shores of Éireann as AEW aircraft of the Seirbhíse Aeir (Air Service) were detecting ships, planes and helicopters far beyond the limits of the naked eye. As soon as they were, the alarm was sounded and fighters jets, which have been readied for this day, were sent aloft to meet the enemy over the cold seas surrounding the Isles of Éireann. Armed with long range air-to-air missiles, anti-ship missiles and even anti-radiation missiles, the air forces of Éireann would be the first to engage the enemy, and an enemy they were as the island of Lyngholm was already under attack by Warreic forces, and though the island belonged to Suionia, by treaty it also meant that Éireann was too at war. It would be over the Sea of Aren east of Ulaid and over the Lyric Sea west of Vedrafjord and Waesfjord that will the site of the first battle between the Celts of Éireann and the Celts of Warre.

It would not only be Air Service that would meet the enemy at sea, the Seirbhís Chabhlaigh, or Naval Service, having already put to sea to prevent it from being caught in port, it has been direct to where it can add its firepower to that of the Air Service. The Béal Feirste Squadron in the north and the Aren Sea Squadrons move to positions to engage those enemy ships out of mainland Warre while the and the Lyric Sea Squadron to engage those out of the Warreic mainland.

While the Seirbhís Chabhlaigh and Seirbhíse Aeir fight the Warreic on and over the sea, it is the Gallóglaigh, Hobelar and Kern that must defend the land itself. With anti-air batteries and coastal defences are at full strength, and prepare to engage the Warreic wherever they commit to a landing. With mobile anti-ship missile batteries ready to move to where they are needed as well as armour, mechanized battailions and infantry of the Army's gallogaligh and kern, if any of the Warreic invasion force makes it through the air and naval forces, they will only find death on beaches on the beaches of Éireann.
 
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