The White Dove and the Emerald Eagle

[Ivernia]

December 1st - (8pm by Dermott's watch)
St. Columbanus Square
Vedrarfjord
High Kingdom of Ivernia

So here was the ''Protest''. Hundreds of people, and up until recently the number was growing. Tents filled the center of Vedrarfjord's main square, known as St. Columbanus Square - and barricades, barbed wire, sheets of metal, even run down horse carriages forming a makeshift wall around it. One of it's leaders, Dermott Keegan, was sitting on a box in a tent in the very center trying to keep warm.

The sun had set over 5 hours ago and the snow was beginning to really pile up. The Gardaí surrounding the barricades were clearly beginning to exhaust as the dark and freezing cold took it's toll on the metro police force - not properly geared for riot control or even heavy snow. By all accounts Vedrarfjord was a relatively peaceful city. Dissent is - used to be - uncommon.

All that changed in the past few years. A nation dedicated to diplomacy was becoming more hawkish with every passing week. With the High Kingdom threatening stand-offs against communist powers in the summer to Ivernia's stubborn refusal to acknowledge issues in Germania, such as the Belmontian Kingdom's woes, Ivernia was not the place today that Dermott Keegan grew up in. There was a lot less talking and ''cooperation.'' But a lot more flags, a lot more patriotism, and a lot more speeches of ''superior culture'' that made Dermott's skin crawl.

The death of Sander Rygaard was effectively the death of the Tripartite Agreement. A traditionally isolationist nation, only convinced to broach out into the world by Rygaard's charisma and leadership - and of whom without the Continental Republic fell right back into it's old ways. It was then Dermott saw Ivernish people see the TAAO as worthless and feel fear over Ivernia's safety in a world without allies. It was then he decided to act, by staging this protest rallying the last liberal ideals together in a single bastion, to stop Pairtí Ríoga from whipping the whole of Ivernia into a reactionary right-wing state.

''The 1st of December would be the day'' Dermott decided, that the bastion would protect itself by force if necessary. The stranglehold of the Gardaí enclosure had weakened morale and Dermott was losing men left and right.

Dermott heard the tent open and saw an old friend poke his head in. ''Dermott we've after gettin them in like you said,'' Peadar iterated as he got into the heat, the snow on this trenchcoat and boots beginning to dissipate, ''the Gards couldn't see us or nothing.''

''We've got what then? The fire cocktails?'' Dermott's eyes lit up.

''Nah not just that, more barricades and shields - also a heap of bricks. I didn't expect it to come to this though Dermott I gotta say.'' Peadar saw down in front of his leader. Both were just student council members in September in Vedrarfjord University. Now standing off against the state the situation had almost become surreal.

''Sure neither did I. But those Garda are steaming us out and snatching people I heard from Colm. We need to show we're serious and up the ante. Peacefulness is unpopular in Ivernia these days anyways - only way to get their attention is with a bit of force.'' The former Student Council President Dermott Keegan on that note got up from this seat and moved towards the tent flap. ''C'mon Peadar - I wanna see the stuff.''

 

[Ivernia]

January 5th. Morning.
Dungarvin Forest
Somewhere on the Nemedia - Milesia Border
High Kingdom of Ivernia

Early morning in the camp. Even though the sun wasn't back in Ivernia yet, they could tell it was dawn - the sky got just a little bit brighter. Not quite illuminating - simply silhouetting the trees and snow around them. Deep in a forest the team had been waiting.

Captain MacFergus was already awake. On watch, with his radio - and taking in the cold. He seemed to be taking quite a while to get used to the cold again - ever since his long campaign in the Commonwealth. After his radio transmission was over he flicked it off. He was pleased to get reception at all in this bracket and wood.

The time had come, he went to rouse the Rangers in his camp, the main column was moving.

The men grunted, but expressed their discontent quietly as they rallied. Lieutenant Kellensey was the first to ask the obvious, ''So Captain, does that mean we're marching further south?''

''Yes it does Lieutenant. A pity we weren't stationed in Milesia already - could have avoided this camp. Alderburgh is going to bring Nemedia's largest column right here, right on the... 'border'.

They'll be marching the main road a few kilometers southwest. We'll be using a smaller forest path to cross the 'border' though.''

MacFergus felt strange saying border. This was all Ivernia after all.

''Which means of course we're moving in. So this is where we split in half. Two potato trucks - two groups. Teirney you head to Weasfjord to touch base with Callaghan's 1st Rangers while the rest of us head straight for the Milesian Capital.''

Kellensey glanced into his tin cup of coffee. Then across the thick forest. Looking out he saw, beyond a bush, three mounds, about five foot tall with the most familiar silhouette.

''Remember those stones that looked like little people? They're back in the light.'' He pointed out to the three strange mounds of rock, faces carved into them.

''What'd you make of that MacFergus?''

''Oh I dunno Kell, probably some auld pagan custom. Come on, load up.''

Soon, the potato trucks were humming in the cold morning. In the south of Ivernia where there's the least snow and most farming land, so long as you don't mind a rough ride this is the way to travel inconspicuously.

MacFergus fitted his farmer cap. He tried to put his hands in the pockets of his coat but they went straight through - bloody holes. MacFergus was not a fan of dressing like a potato farmer. ''This is specifically what I was trying to avoid by signing up you know.''

The men just nodded understandably as the trucks began to mobilize. Kellensey kept looking out the back of the truck, then even with his binoculars, just looking at the pagan statues until the forest covered them up again.

 

[Ivernia]

June 10th
North Circular Road
Vedrarfjord
Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic

Walder had never seen Vedrarfjord in such a sorry state, and on such a lovely day. A day and a night have passed since Nuada Airgetlám's National Soldiers began to march on Vedrarfjord and the city has changed completely. Walder huddled behind a barricade made of a cart and sandbags outside of a Chemist Shop. He wondered if he ever walked into that chemist for anything. Now with the windows shattered and the stock looted he doubted he'd get the chance again.

Too much has changed since November, both inside and outside of Vedrarfjord. The Republican and Monarchist Militias had battled since before the weekend, but with the national and provincial armies now battling in the streets it had become a war zone.

Walder had company, two Provincial soldiers attempting to lay down covering fire across the North Circular Road, before Walder could break away into the smaller streets.

Ivernish National Forces had decided to take the city by foot - rather than destroy Vedrarfjord's property and infrastructure, already in a bad state after half a year of being cut off from the rest of the High Kingdom. The streets were filthy and cracked, and Walder swore all this gunfire was leaving a stink. It reminded him of his Himyar days.

''Now's yer besht chance! Move now!'' Walder didn't even look to take in the soldier's work, rather darted across the street, from pile of rubble to pile of rubble before he could slip into a side street. The National Soldiers were attacking through the main roads, but the many alleyways and choke-holds of Vedrarfjord has proven to be a real issue for them. The local Provincials and militias were capitalizing on any advantage they had.

Walder had little issue for the rest of the way as he fell back into Republican controlled zones. White Dove Square was heavily guarded by Columbanus militia soldiers. The square had become a compound. The old Provincial Governance House and Vedrarfjord University had become the new Capitol buildings of the Republic. Outside of the Government House he met his connection waiting outside for him. Seamus Brog, the new ''Minister for Defence.''

''Good to see you made it alive Walder! What happened to you escort?'' Seamus pulled his waistcoat closer as he came down the steps of the old parliament building.

''Lost them on North Circular Road - Nuada's forces are taking the main roads Seamus.'' Walder took off his own black coat. ''Lovely day otherwise right Seamus?''

''Come Walder, the President is waiting, we'll talk then.''

 

[Ivernia]

June 10th, Afternoon.
Parliament House
Vedrarfjord
Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic

The President stood in front of the man at last. Walder, with his long slicked back hair and black clothes had apparently risked life and limb spying for the President's new Republic, but his clothing and accent were clearly not Milesian.

''Hello Mr. Walder and welcome at last to the Republic of Milesia. You yourself though are an enigma, which part of Ivernia are you from?'' The President inquired.

''My parents were Formorian, but I was born in Silvertown in the Himyari Commonwealth. I'm a settler, Chief''. Walder appeared unfazed by the Presidents brusqueness. At this point Minister Seamus Brog interjected, ''Mr. President I've known Walder 10 years, he served under me in the Himyari forces for years. If you trust me you trust him.''

The President's eyes widened for a moment, ''You served with Minister Brog? So then you served under Nuada Airgetlám at some point? Brog did too as I recall.''

''I did Chief, I served with Colonel Airgetlám. My last field missions though were in the recent Himyari Crisis before I was recruited with the newly founded G2, under Bran Ogden.''

Seamus rallied to his old war friend's past slapping a hand on his shoulder. ''His information has been critical to the founding of our Republic. The G2 was created by Silvio Mac Brady and the old regime, apparently Nuada hasn't been able to get them to fully co-operate. In fact the G2 has learned a lot about Nuada Airgetlám.''

Walder stepped forward towards the President. Even in his dirty office, with beams of a July afternoon's light cutting through the dust, did the man hold himself like a leader. Once a Provincial leader with all the security and prosperity he could desire. And yet what road did he let his principals lead him? Walder wondered would his principles be his downfall.

''Mr. President, Former Taoiseach Silvio Mac Brady allowed the military to create ''Operation Hellfire'' in order to fight back against the series of terrorist attacks across Ivernia and the Commonwealth. Do you remember the bombing at 44 Carpenter's Street? That was only the beginning. When Silvio lost the safety of the Tripartite the people looked towards the inflated military for their security. We at the G2 believe that Nuada had a role to play in the attacks. That a false flag campaign was instigated to inflate security and military forces, and weaken the peoples democratic resolve in search of safety.''

''Silvio's mishandling of the whole situation, losing the Tripartite and attempting to unite with un-gaels only escalated these goals.'' Added Minister Brog, clearly not a fan of Mac Brady's rule.

The President sat back in a dusty chair. ''I would need proof of these claims if I were to attempt to oust the man with them.''

''Hard proof is hard to come by but the G2 is working on collecting all the evidence there is. In the meantime your Republic must relent the National Forces - and that's why I'm here.'' With that Walder took his black coat from his arm and opened a large inside pocket. Inside was a brown envelope - padded thick with documents. ''Seamus Brog was looking over these since I arrived this morning.''

Seamus Brog lowered himself into a chair next to the President and next to a coffee table; there was once a large luxurious desk - now a part of a barricade somewhere in the city. Minister Brog began to reveal the documents to his President.

''So you see, Nuada has gone straight for the goal. He is storming to Vedrarfjord with soldiers into order to catch us before our guards are up. We knew he would make Vedrarfjord a priority but what we didn't know-'' Brog pulled out a map of Milesia, clearly marking troop movements - ''how quickly he's trying to end this. Most rural barracks are barely held by National Soldiers and his commitment to not use heavy weaponry and artillery on the cities means these bases and their artillery depots are under defended. His plan, clearly, was to rush Vedrarfjord - knowing that if he gets Columbanus Square the rest of Milesia will fall.''

The President was deep in thought, and didn't realise Walder had approached the two men. ''Chief, Minister Brog, you left many garrisons of men in Lowport and Waesfjord because you prepared for a campaign across Milesia. But I'm telling you if you rally your forces around to County Dungarvin and then push down to County Vedrarfjord you will cut into his weak middle. You would theoretically encircle his forces in Vedrarfjord. With the Carentanians supporting us and up north supplying the Formorian Liberties Group, Caladbolg will come back to the negotiating table.''

''Or even better, execute Nuada Airgetlám.'' The President said curtly. ''There is a lot to consider here Walder - so thank you for your time for now, I'll work with my Minister of Defence on your information.''

 

[Ivernia]

June 13th
Parliament House
Vedrarfjord
Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic

As the President of the Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic, John Holt had decreed to his Military Commanders, the Vedrarfjord Militia and Waesfjord Militia, as well as the Provincial Military stationed in both cities were to go on the offensive, in a classic double envelopment maneuver in order to re-capture Dungarvin Base back from National hands. Just north of Vedrarfjord city, and standing between Vedrarfjord and Caladbolg it's capture would prove vital in removing National forces from the President's foundling capital.

His intelligence was proving to be true. With a heavy assault on Vedrarfjord the hinterlands were sparsely held by Nationalist forces. President John Holt was not on this field however - rather back in the Parliament House in Vedrarfjord. His Minister for Defence Seamus Brog, and aides and further advisers around a large wall map of the scene. With a radio contact would Holt have to wait for this critical operation to unfold in the upcoming days.

From the compass points, Dungarvin Military Base was in the North East, with the National Forces in the North East and East. Dungarvin Forest was in the direct north, and so the Weasfjord forces were coming in from the West. National forces had already started pulling out from Vedrarfjord. Whatever Holt could spare from Vedrarfjord, was expected to arrive on the battlefield from the South.

Seamus Brog was going over the semblances of the plan, named 'Operation Neck'. By Holt's side he stood to the map draped on the wall with a cane, pointing out the locales and movements planned for their soldiers. ''We march the bulk of our armour forces eastwards drawing out the National Army's armour to meet them here in the center of the map - our main point of the battle. At the same time Vedrarfjord forces will come up from the south and we will hit these forces from both sides. Throughout this many Waesfjord soldiers will have to enter Dungarvin Forest in the North to cut across straight to Dungarvin Fortress. However I have no doubt there are National sentries in the Forest too. But we can't have them encircling us.''

President Holt pointed North-East on the map, towards Caladbolg. ''And what if the Nemedians use the Air Force? We'll be well and truly encircled then?''

Seamus Brog seemed confident, pointing out air bases in Vedrarfjord, Waesfjord, and Lowport as he informed his leader. ''30% of the Ivernish Air Force is right here in Milesia. Nemedia only have 30% itself, with the rest, mostly last generation planes, split between the other provinces. If Nemedia deploy air forces we'll be the first to know, and we'll respond in kind.'' Seamus Brog picked up a thick collection of notes, bound with twine string. To Holt's untrained eye they looked to be aeronautical schematics. ''That situation isn't what we want, mind. We've got to keep this fight on the ground. We're cut off from the National suppliers, refuelers, parts, all manner of services we need for our Air Force in the long run. Only for emergencies - while we secure new contracts.''

''Securing new contracts could be the least of our worries by the end of the week Brog. We could be against a firing squad.'' President Holt gathered up their notes, ''Have these to the Generals. Operation Neck, the next stage needs to be commenced.''

With that the Minister for Defence carried the books out of the Presidents Room, along with his aides. President Holt sat down next to the radio.


June 15th, Midday
County Dungarvin
Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic

Summer rains were sweeping across the plains of Dungarvin. A strong, warm, North-Easterly wind was bringing rain across the field in scattered showers. If was bright and windy, but the ground was wet under the soldier's feet. Each boot squelching on the soil and drawing water. With Dungarvin Forest so close the land was uneven, and covered in hedges and brush. The grass was tall and unkempt and unfarmed. Scratchy, and riddled with seasonal insects.

The trek from Waesfjord was long and hard, but especially hard on the militiamen. Rag tag soldiers formed from groups of idealistic men, cityfolk and farmers - not built, trained and hardened against the fatigue of combat. This battle would be thick with heavy armour. The National Forces still had the Imperial Cavalries, yet unused due to the vainglorious attempt by Caladbolg to take Vedrarfjord by soldiers alone, and Melisia had Weasfjord's heavy tanks and artillery rolling new, fresh and free from siege into this fray.

With only a few kilometers to the National Forces, the men would have to go slow. In the distance the soldiers could see, ahead, the tank lines beginning to form. Initial shots fired against each other created a terrible rumbling against the humid Summer air.

 

[Ivernia]

June 15th, Midday
Ivernish Imperial Cavalry
County Dungarvin
Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic

The sortie of Weasfjord tanks was drawing ever nearer to Sergeant O'Harper. Fresh from his Campaigns in Himyar he was, as he held himself to be, the finest tank cavalier in the Empire. Peering through his binoculars though, he knew he was in for a serious fight. It seemed the entire armour of Weasfjord was on the field - and O'Harper had no doubt whatever that Vedrarfjord's forces were coming from the south.

''We're outnumbered.'' O'Harper mused, twirling his thick black mustache. ''By quite a fashion it seems. Well no matter, damnable Weasfjordians don't know Dungarvin like I do.''

The Sergeant was in his tank, wider than his Scorpion that he used back in the Commonwealth - more suited for the desert. This time O'Harper was sitting proudly in the hatch of a Cosantóir, finest tank in the Ivernish Army.

''Better armour, better leadership ~of course~ and more artillery shells. We'll all manage to come out of this one lads.'' Bellowing down to his men, and to his tank lines.

O'Harper's plan was simple. The field was concave, with a deep was wasn't visible due to the tall grass and hedges. This land was wet and it was even raining as O'Harper was overseeing the battlefield-to-be. He pulled out a radio from below the hatch - straight line to Dungarvin Fortress. While he might not have as many boots in Dungarvin as he would have liked - Nuada's foolhardy decision to not use artillery before in the Vedrarfjord assault means the Fortress has a full stock. Something High Command now plans to use with great persecution.

''The bulk of the rebel forces here are militia men.'' O'Harper rattled down the radio. ''Aim the artillery behind the Weasfjordian tanklines straight at their militia-men - untrained men scatter easily. Shell Dungarvin Forest too - the east side. Try to slow down the men they'll obviously be sending through there.''

Once their men have been disorganized the Weasfjord armour will have to pull forward to try to end the battle quickly while they still have their numbers advantage - once they fall into the boglands O'Harper will capitalise with superior tanks with better traction. It won't work in the long run - but O'Harper only needs to hold on until Vedrarfjord's forces make it to the battlefield.

O'Harper could start hearing the rumbling of the enemy over the rain. ''To think so many would betray King and Country - all for an idea.'' O'Harper sounded sad - almost fatigued at the numbers of Milesians facing down what was once their shared homeland. He battened down his hatch. This would be a brutal battle. The Weasfjord tanks began to fire. Great roars as the shells ripped through the air at the Ivernish lines and slammed into the ground with a heavy wet thud, pulling up great mounds of earth and clay and sod and water. The Ivernish tanks moved forward just an essence's worth and ever so slowly to rally the enemy further into the peatlands.

''Ten.. Nine.. Eight...'' O'Harper counted down. His comrades had already loaded the shell. O'Harper reading the data and peering at his target. ''Four.. Three... Two...'' O'Harper's men had cleared the shot. All was needed was their Sergeant's finger and the cannonfire. ''One, Fire!'' A grand blast of fire and smoke emerging from the pipe like steam from a teapot as a shell rushed out to meet the Milesians. In that brief moment the entire Ivernish tankline fired almost at once, in the unison of a song, great roars bellowed from the metal beasts like a terrible harmonizing as the Cavalry's tanks rattled off their first linefire of the day like an array of old cannoneers. A wall of earth shot up right in front of the Milesian tanks - ''Not in range yet - but I'm sure that scared the shite out of them.'' One of O'Harper's men laughed.

''Load the cannon again. Hand me the radio.'' O'Harper commanded. Clicking to the radios of his fellow Cavaliers, ''Block Alpha and Block Epsilon, break off. Block Bravo, Charlie, Delta creep forward and prepare for the next shot.'' The rebel cannonfire was coming back stronger, more rapid. But less accurate and not at all coordinated. The men were firing the moment they loaded. O'Harper wondered how many Senior Officers defected and how many of these are simply misguided young hearts. A rouge rebel shot veered to the east and struck and old farm shed - going up in a mighty cloud of dust and splinters. O'Harper stifled a laugh. He knew once they got close - it could be his tank in that shot.

''Loaded Sergeant - all clear.'' O'Harper picked up the radio again. ''Ready - Six, Five, Four''...

Huge thunderous booms could be heard, but not from the Imperial Cavalry. The Artillery was firing from the locations given by O'Harper. Terrible thuds like a sledgehammer crashing down on the far east of the field. ''It wont be long before the Milesians ready their own artillery, but if they don't set up soon they won't have the men to do it.'' The Sergeant thought to himself. ''Even trained hardened soldiers quiver when artillery is falling around them like God's wrath.'' O'Harper couldn't imagine farmers and cityfolk holding their own against it. ''Surely their hearts are not set so much against their own homeland that they would not relent in their traitorous ways, and flee, in the face of such fury?''

 

[Ivernia]

July 7th, 10pm
Dún Dé
County Paisly
Formorian Great Northern Territories

July had come to the High Kingdom, but the Great Northern Territories of Formoria know no Summer. While in the South the Taigas had warmed and the snow receded somewhat, allowing life to creep back into the lands - the frozen north remained white. Even with the endless sun the small communities of northern Formoria lived a life in the near constant snow.

Dún Dé was one such community. A small fishing town. Normally at this time of year, with the ports clear of ice, it would be a boon season of fishing cod in the great North Sea. The men of the town would make the lions share of their money from these times, sail the endless day and sleep under the Eternal Holy Sun. However, it was not to be. Men sat around in the taverns grumbling, fish stockpiled in ice basements with no buyers. Even though they were far from the worst of the Ivernish Civil War - the economic damage rippled across the entire Gaelic Realm.

In a particularly dark and musty tavern the men of the hamlet were surrounding a round table. The only men in the pub were in the crowd - the other tables were loaded with boxes. The shutters were shut - the only light from candles illuminating the dust. Shadows from the ceiling beams cast around the room.

''Nuada-h was meant to free us - free G'nnlandia fer de Ivernish payple, free us from de comm'nists on n-our borders. Now dey're in our borders!'' A gruff man with a long red beard banged his tankard.

''Too right! Tonights de night and not a day too soon!'' Another man, equal in gruffness and in beard exclaimed in agreement. ''Once we get the go-ahead f'rm Rí, it'sh go time. It's all here shure and ev'ry man in town is with us.''

With cries of ''hear hear'' the men continued to drink long into the night. Tomorrow would be a big day. As the candles burned low the gas lamps were brought out. Under the steady light one could see the Southron Languages printed on the metal boxes.


July 7th, 10pm
Weasfjord
County Weasfjord
Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic

John Holt was in complete disarray. Vedrarfjord was on the brink of capture and more and more Ivernish Imperial Troops marched into his capital every day. The cities' resistance was truly beginning to falter - and yet here he was. A President without a Captial. A man with half a country. Half an army. With the betrayal of Lowport at the battle of Dungarvin, Holt had lost his Air Defences. Now he sat in a basement of a closed down Tourist Office in Vedrarfjord. Sitting in an empty storeroom of the building on the main street he listened to the city as the day went by. So quiet it was to him - so tense was the atmosphere to him.

With the major losses at Dungarvin John Holt followed the advice of his Government and enacted a ''tactical retreat'' away from Vedrarfjord to Weasfjord. Further south and away from Caladbolg his advisers exclaimed he would win back the lost land of the Republic from a more secure location. But leaving in the dead of night, in a fishing boat, felt like a retreat. Like running away. Holt knew he could always lose his nation or his life, but never did he feel so much like he lost his pride than that night.

He wanted so desperately to return to Vedrarfjord. But so long as he was leading the Weasfjord forces against Lowport, in a defensive attack - they could not move onto Vedrarfjord to win it back. He was stuck here for the foreseeable future.

He had a letter in his hands. Delivered by his spymaster Walder from ''Friends in Formoria''. He received it an hour prior but had not opened it yet. It could mean nothing - and yet, it felt like it could mean everything.

 

[Ivernia]

July 8th
Midhe Parliament House
Royal City Caladbolg, Nemedia
High Kingdom of Ivernia

REPRESENTATIVE CALLAGHAN: And so I put it to the house the utter failure of the current Government to contain this Crisis. With the Formorian Great Northern Territories up in Arms we hereby claim that the High Kingdom has evolved from a Crisis into a State of Civil War. Claoímh Solais, and Nuada Airgetlám's Government have failed to contain the uprising in Milesia quickly or efficiently enough and now he - and his Government has lost the faith of the Gaels across the Realm.

Uproar from Parliament

MAN OF THE CHAIR HENNESSEY: Silence in the Room. Representative Callaghan please continue.

REPRESENTATIVE CALLAGHAN: Our party, under Silvio Mac Brady fostered peace and reconciliation within and without Ivernia. We fostered democracy. We fostered unions. We strove to defeat and deflect Socialism and Communism abroad. The economy was on the rise and our people's quality of life was increasing year-to-year. Now the Gaelic Man is a shambles. Now the Heart of the Gael has been divided. Betwixt our petty Provinces do we now endeavor apart - than rather stand united under God, the Sun and our High King!

Uproar from Parliament

REPRESENTATIVE HUXELY: Absolute twaddle, twaddle, twaddle! What utter nonsense from the-

MAN OF THE CHAIR HENNESSEY: Now hear this. Representative Callaghan's time is being interrupted. Representative Callaghan please continue.

REPRESENTATIVE CALLAGHAN: Armed Rebellion in quaint Formorian Fishing Towns. Do I suspect the Provincial Formorian Militaries are now expected to fight their own homeland? The country is in ruins! Why should the Ivernish support Claíomh Solais when entire Provinces are attempting to pursue their fortunes alone and are prepared to force themselves against Caladbolg if needs be? Why does Claíomh Solais feel the need to diminish, demolish and divide the High Kingdom?

Uproar from Parliament

MAN OF THE CHAIR HENNESSEY: Representative Callaghan your time has concluded. Representative Huxely, you are granted time of the Parliament.

REPRESENTATIVE HUXELY: A fiction one would tell their children at night! Representative Hennessey what you and your party would do to deflect the blame and failures of your party in their stead of Governance! There is a reason we united to form Claíomh Solais. There is a reason we warned your party - in it's rule - of the constant encroachment of Communism in these lands. While you attempted to ride Sylvania's coat tails to glory on the World Stage - where was Ivernia's Government on the home front? For years did you parade around the World Stage, pandering to Southron's with their lesser cultures and languages. Pandering to Sylvanians, Austwegians, all manner of wastrels across the world.

What happened to them all? All gone. Collapsed inwards on themselves! The Tripartite is dead and now Communists, Socialists and Republicans - all manner of untreated maladies have spawned across Ivernia! It is for this cause that the Claíomh Solais was formed - a sword of light to purge our Realm - and it is for this that we were elected!

We were elected to purge the Realm. We are undergoing this Purge. May I remind you Representative Callaghan, that False-President John Holt was a member of your party before he turned traitor to Ivernia!

Uproar from Parliament

REPRESENTATIVE HUXELY: Shut up you lot! Oh how you and baw and bash now but how many more Republican Wolves are hiding in Daonlathaithe Críostaí?

Uproar from Parliament

MAN OF THE CHAIR HENNESSEY: Representative Huxely if you refrain from the diatribe you might just make it though your entire time. Silence in the room - Representative Huxely please continue.

REPRESENTATIVE HUXELY: Claíomh Solais shall Prevail! We shall scour the Formorian hot heads and break the back of the Milesian Republic! We shall -

Representative Huxely stops and returns to his chair as another man rises

TAOISEACH NUADA AIRGETLÁM: Milesia, and the Self Proclaimed Republic it stood for - has already had it's back broken - and yet still they fight us. Lowport returns to the fold, Vedrarfjord on the cusp of recapture - and yet they still fight us. That is because of one simple reason. The Socialists are not like you or me. Where we Ivernish thrive on peace and prosperity - they thrive on Anarchy. We love success - they love failure. We love Ivernia - they love ideologies that grant them power over the lives of others. We love our High King - they love John Holt and the Culture of Personality he has surrounded himself with.

I shall tell you this now - we spoke of the chaos in Vedrarfjord for the main reason why talks with John Holt had to cease and why we needed to mobilise our militaries. But that is only half of the story. We offered Milesia more autonomy within Ivernia and he refused us. This is why the Formorians threaten us so. Our plan for the Imperial Federation would have granted the Territory of Formoria statehood. But because of John Holt we cannot enact our plans. The plans of my party. The Imperial Federation of Ivernia must commence - for it shall be the savior of Ivernia's future. We must Purge Ivernia as swiftly as possible in order to save it - save the Gaels from the mental illnesses of Socialism and Communism.

The False-President does not want our Imperial Federation because John Holt wants total control. He wants to be a supreme leader. He has given up on the Ivernish Cause. That is why it is not so simple as defeating Milesia. We must find and destroy John Holt - and all those who he surrounds himself with, in order to cut the source of the rot. We must destroy all Socialists in Ivernia.

 

[Ivernia]

THE IVERNISH CRISIS
THIS MAP IS ACCURATE AS OF AUGUST 1st, 1955

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LEGEND
ZONES:

BLUE SHADED: WHITE DOVE MOVEMENT / SELF-PROCLAIMED MILESIA REPUBLIC

BLACK SHADED: REPUBLIC-SYMPATHETIC / MILITARY NOT RESPONDING TO HIGH COMMAND

ALL OTHER TERRAIN: UNDER CALADBOLG CONTROL.

MILITARY FORCES:

GREEN: Ivernish Imperial Army [IIA]
BLACK: Ivernish Neutral Army Forces [INAF]
BLUE: Milesian Republican Army [MRA]

MILITARY DIVISIONS CONCERNED:

MILESIAN THEATER

1: 1st Nemedian Central Brigade [Order of the Central Sky]
Led By - Field Marshal Cidolfus ''Thunder God'' Aodh-Mór
Soldiers of Note:
Captain Frederick Mac Fergus - Army Ranger Wing [1st Class]
Lieutenant Aidan Kellensey - Army Ranger Wing [1st Class]
Sergeant O'Harper - Mechanised Cavalry

Tasks: Bringing to an end the Milesian Insurgency, and stoppering the spread of Militant Republicanism in Ivernia. Restoring the Broken Order of the Southern Sky. Finding and apprehending False-President John Holt and those who associate with him. Repelling Guerrilla Warfare of the Liberated City of Vedrarfjord.

2: Central Milesian Republic Army [Formerly Order of the Southern Sky]
Led By - Colonel Nathan Mac Clancy

Tasks: Defending the borders of the Self-Proclaimed Milesia Republic, stopping the march of the Ivernish Imperial Army within Milesia. Defending Waesfjord the Temporary Capital of the Self Proclaimed Milesia Republic. Retaking lost Vedrarfjord. Preparing a Guerrilla Assault on Vedrarfjord Hinterland.

3: South Milesian Republic Army [Formerly Order of the Southern Sky]
Led By - Colonel Francis O'Harper

Tasks: Attacking and defeating Imperial Forces in Lowport. Securing and maintaining Republican Control in the South of Milesia. Repelling any Imperial attempt to establish forces on the Milesian bay of Lake Ester.

4: 1st Milesian Lowport Brigade [Order of the Southern Sky]
Led By - Major Seamus Logain

Tasks: Defending Lowport from Republican Attacks. Restoring the Broken Order of the Southern Sky. Removing Republican Influence from Southern Milesia. Finding and apprehending False-President John Holt and those who associate with him. Creating a strong link with Nemedian Forces to establish a reinforcement route.

5: North Milesian Republic Army [Formerly Order of the Southern Sky]
Led By - Captain Liam O'Kelly

Tasks: Maintaining Republican Forces in the Far North of Milesia. Assisting and reinforcing the West Milesian Republic Army in Oileáin Na Tríonóide. Repelling Imperial Forces encroaching on Republican Territory. Attempting to re-establish link with the Central Republican Army for reinforcements. Attacking and Retaking Vedrarfjord.

6: 3rd Nemedian Western Brigade [Order of the Central Sky]
Led By - Major-General Niall Mac Gallons

Tasks: Invading Milesia across Lake Ester and establishing an Imperial presence on Melin Head. Keeping Republican forces from establishing a strong presence around Lake Ester. Ensuring the safety and protection of Cathair na Mairt. Watching Ivernia's eastern borders for any outside opportunist invasion from Galindia.

7: Oileáin Na Tríonóide Brigade [Order of the Central Sky]
Led By - Admiral Danny Keefe

Tasks: Insuring safety and stability in Oileáin na Tríonóide and maintaining Neutrality in the current Ivernish Crisis between Milesia and Nemedia. Situation may change due to Republican forces now present in the Southern Island. In an effort for reinforcements to secure his Province, Admiral Keefe may declare support for Caladbolg against Milesia.

8: West Milesian Republic Army
Led By - Captain Hobert Mac Cumhaill

Tasks: Protecting and cultivating Republican efforts in Oileáin na Tríonóide, namely the Southern Isle. Maintaining a reinforcement route with the Milesian Main Forces. Repelling counter attacks from the Oileáin na Tríonóide Brigade.

NORTHERN THEATER

9: 1st Formorian Central Brigade [Order of the Northern Sky]
Led By - Lieutenant-General Micheal Ghlaislainn

Tasks: Maintaining the safety and security of Formoria and Formoria's Borders. Maintaining a stance of Neutrality on the Current Ivernish Crisis. Quelling all Republican Movements within Formoria. As recent talks on a Federation style rule for Ivernia have been fruitful, Formoria is likely to rejoin the Ivernish Civil War under the auspice of Caladbolg.

10: 2nd Bréifne - Osraige Brigade [Order of the Northern Sky]
Led By - Brigadier-General Keiran Mac Umbert

Tasks: Maintaining the borders of Bréifne - Osraige. Preparing for a potential attack from Formoria, however due to talks underway in Caladbolg a war within the Order of the Northern Sky is now unlikely much to Brigadier-General Mac Umbert's great relief.

11: 3rd Formorian Northern Brigade [Order of the Northern Sky]
Led By - Major Alan Mac Tír

Tasks: While outwardly expressing support for the ongoing Nemedia - Formoria talks on Federalisation, the 3rd Formorian Northern Brigade of Dún De has strong Republican undertones which puts Major Alan Mac Tír's loyalty as questionable. Agents from Southern Socialist/Communist Nations are suspected to be acting within and reinforcing this Brigade.

12: 5th Liex Brigade [Order of the Northern Sky]
Led by - Colonel Eoin Byrne

Tasks: Maintaining the security of Liex. Preparing to play an auxiliary role for Bréifne - Osraige in a potential Northern Sky war. Watching the Eastern Border of the High Kingdom for any Galindian action.

WESTERN THEATER

13: 1st Fir Bholg Brigade [Order of the Western Sky]
Led By - Lieutenant-General Leonard O'Reilly

Tasks: In the event of Oileáin Na Tríonóide calling for help from Caladbolg - in light of Republican Actions in their South - Lieutenant-General Leonard O'Reilly is tasked with leading a full invasion of Oileáin Na Tríonóide with Loyal Imperial Forces and repelling the Republicans back to Milesia. After-which O'Reilly will establish a naval connection with the Lowport Brigade for reinforcements.

 

[Ivernia]

August 8th
Basecamp Port na Bláiche
Long Island
Oileáin Na Tríonóide


Port na Bláiche under normal circumstances was a popular holiday spot for Ivernish people - with the money to do so - to while their Augusts away on it's warm and windy beaches and lush flora and fauna. The quaint little port town was littered with walking paths and hotels so luxurious the locals could never dream of being guests in. Though now instead of lazy pleasure boats in the blue sea the naval ships rested. Admiral Daniel Keefe had claimed hold of all Order of Central Sky units on Oileáin Na Tríonóide to maintain their neutrality in the ongoing civil war. Soldiers lined the streets of the visitor's town. Drinking, smoking, many of the locals stayed indoors out the fear. Many of the women especially so. What were once clean and cheerful colourful streets were beginning to decay, both physically and morally.

On one of the largest battleships, in the Officer's Room several men were deep in debate and in dinner. From the officers table, charts were strewn across trays as the men debated Republicans on the Low Island. One of the officers, a Lieutenant-Commander, in the middle of the table was reading out update bulletins. The loose papers were moved about the table as a plate of food in front of him remained untouched. His tumbler however had been refilled generously.

''Republicans from Milesia have more than just a stronghold in Low, they've got a genuine base of operations. It's apparently called the West Milesian Republican Army. They're being reinforced by Republican Forces in Milesia, it looks like the contagion is spreading.''

One of the Lieutenants put on his glasses to inspect a map.

''This is why we need to mobilize now. If we can cut off naval supplies we can get the Low forces to fight on their own footing. They won't last three months.''

The Lieutenant-Commander didn't appreciated being interrupted, he put his notes down and stared right at his subordinate.

''Last a little bit longer than that, last night they broke into a fuel depot. 7 Soldiers dead, 3 engineers dead and a full fuel truck taken. We've got a republican force with fueled mechanized cavalry now for the short and medium term.''

''Gentlemen please'', the eldest of the men, ensign stating the man was a Commander, rose up from the end of the table. ''What of our Air Force, what do the bulletins say about it?''

''No updates from the Admiral in Chathair Camhaoir on the airports - it seems the Airforce across Ivernia is completely loyal to Caladbolg, we'll get no favours from them for this.''

''It seems so. The Airforce is essentially owned by the Aodh-Mór Corporation, and we all know the Nobles will never support even a moderate stance on republicanism.'' The Commander said with a sigh. ''Speaking of which, General Cidolfus retook Vedrarfjord two months ago. He's beginning to solidify his presence in what is the largest Naval Base and Port in Ivernia. Soon he'll have the ability to reach Low Island if he so desired. If Caladbolg see's we can't hold Oileáin Na Tríonóide they'll declare ''emergency'' and force our hand. We need to mobilize in three days and completely exterminate Republican forces in Low Island.'' The Commander sat back down and nursed a fork. ''I know none of us islanders wanted to play a role in the mainlander's Civil War - but it seems to have found us anyways.''

The sun was beginning to set in Port na Bláiche as the soldiers began to enter the pubs and drink heavily. On a Saturday night the Port would have been lively with music but now only had a ominous quiet interrupted only by intermittent shouts and bangs.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

July 19th
Chagny, Bourgogne



"These Republicans cannot win this" said the Grand Duke, seated in a richly upholstered chair. His council had been a rotation of incompetents but now a level headed group sat or stood in his personal library. "I have spoken to Ivernish leadership and they agree that this movement taking place will only serve to spread communism and poorly constructed rebellions. Sikandara has been too openly loud and bold in fighting this. We....we will be loudly quiet"


August 16th
Lowport

The ships had quietly entered port around 3 o'clock in the morning. As they had drawn near the coast, Burgundian flags on the vessels were lowered. The men on the ships bore no identifying paperwork or other indicators to their origin. The two regiments of men on the ships only wore an Imperial Ivernish Army patch and under it a pale blue flag patch with the letters 'RVI' in gold. As they disembarked, few were awake to witness the sight of men clamoring down the gangplanks. Many were new troops, green to the experience of actual theater operations. Some, including many junior officers, had been 'volunteered' from regiments who had served in the Green Peninsula. Even these men struggled with the confusion of the docks. Only General Gramelski seemed calm. General Stanislaw Gramelski was the son of Wendowie political refugees and had always sought a career in the military. He was in his 50's and despite a small beer belly, retained a natural military swagger. Gramelski also had natural abilities and was a rising star in the Burgundian military. Yet, he remained untested in actual operations.

Disembarking the two regiments began slow but several non commissioned officers seemed to take the reins, guiding the men into respective companies. It was 7 o'clock by the time the ships were fully unloaded but most men had been marched into the country, just outside the city to set up camp. Gramelski stood on the dock with the squadron Captain who was young and did not seem pleased to be in command of several cargo rustbuckets. Gramelski checked his watch. 7:22 in the morning. "Well Captain, I would say that an hour behind schedule docking and an hour behind for you departing makes us almost on time" he said, looking at the sky, trying to gauge the day's weather. The young squadron commander was not amused and remained silent. Gramelski decided it was best to be off and let the commander do his job. "The second you weigh anchor make sure those Burgundian flags fly high". The captain merely nodded and strode down the dock. As Gramelski climbed into a jeep, he saw the first ship, Burgundian flag flying, leaving port at high speed. The General shook his head. He thought this venture foolish. In another week, a tank company was supposed to arrive but he doubted it would make it through. There were rumors the Ivernish navy had split allegiances. By the time Gramelski made it to what made for an HQ, he already had a pile of messages awaiting him. The first message was from the regional Ivernish commander,who apologized at being delayed. Gramelski shrugged and threw the message on the ground and began reading another.

Time was short for Lowport and a real battle about to take place. Gramelski looked at the map sent by his Ivernish counterparts along with the initial message. He shook his head. "This map is a bloody half day old. Find me a messenger and send them to the Ivernish commander. Tell them I am coming to them". Gramelski sat for a moment and lit his pipe while reading a few more messages. He quickly dictated a message for Burgundian command, which would be sent through diplomatic channels to avoid any direct link, and he took off his light jacket. It had been cool in the early hours but he felt comfortable without it. A major had gathered two colonels, 6 captains, and a tired looking naval lieutenant who served as an aide to the General. "Gentlemen. There is little time to prepare" he began in rapid French, with a heavy Wendowie accent. "If your men are not sleeping, get them to sleep. If they have not been fed, make sure field kitchens get a hearty meal prepared. I expect this afternoon to see some serious combat. Most of your men are tired, I understand that. But we face a determined enemy who is hellbent on bringing tyranny to this land. It is our job to bring this situation into a more even balance" he said, pausing to puff his pipe. "The world will not know our involvement for some time now. Remember, we serve Ivernish masters now, not Bourgogne. Not one of us retains commission or an enlistment in the Burgundian army. Some of you have fought elsewhere. Remember, this will not be an easy task. But I will support all of you when the time comes" Gramelski said, raising from his chair. "You are dismissed. I will go find out what the fuck is going on at Ivernish HQ. Get your men rested"

 

[Ivernia]

August 22nd
Vinegar Hill
Low Island
Oileáin Na Tríonóide

The men lay deep in the brush in wait. They had been waiting for several hours, not daring to move a muscle. It was dark now, around 2am, and yet they lay still.

Cormac had started his campaign in Vedrarfjord and yet never believed he would be dragged across Ivernia to Low Island. Yet the Battle of Dungarvin Forest rang fresh in his mind. They did not realise how far The Order of the Central Sky had mobilised and were never expecting the full might of General Cidolfus Aodh-Mór's artillery. Each shell hitting the ground was like a sledgehammer on steel by his ears. The ringing lasted weeks. Many men who went into the forest were torn apart not by the shells but by the trees as the shells hit them, turning the bark to shrapnel as the ancient trunks exploded. Many of those men were either dead or had the ''shakes''.

So right now, in this brush Cormac was content to lay. A few hours of waiting was nothing to him as he, and his entire branch of the Milesian Republican Army had been completely cut off from the main group. Split in half by Vedrarfjord's capture. Cormac wondered if Vedrarfjord's fall would be fatal.

Some of the soldiers said that Caledonia had called them a ''Corpse Movement'', and so starting calling themselves the ''Corpse Brigade.'' Dead men walking.

When it's dark, deeply dark - not even moonlight illuminating your path, Cormac always felt so much more sensitive to even the slightest change in luminescence. Laying there he could almost feel the fresh photons on his eyes as a light up top on Vinegar Hill had gone on. The Guardsmen were in the Guardstation. They would be there for a time - and the light from the inside would make them blind to the outside. It was then that Cormac would have to snap out of his thoughts and begin trudging forward again. All of them, slowly walking forward, hunched over to appear smaller. Sometimes their Sergeant would hold, and they would all have to belly crawl for a time. Slowly, ever so slowly they made their way up the hill over the night.

Time was beginning to run short. It was now 4am and the slightest hints of dawn were being felt. Some birds even began to awaken. But they were there. Bypassing all the roads and all the checkpoints by going straight and slowly through the brush the band of republicans had made their way up to the top of Vinegar Hill and to the small fuel depot that sat on top. They took their positions.

The Sergeant ordered the men across the perimeter, to allow for multiple access points. The Sergeant was to take a group to become Team 1, heading for a clear shot of the front door of the guard house. Cormac was to head to the fuel truck with Team 2 as the remainder created Team 3 which went as far form the trucks as they could. While they brought wire cutters they weren't needed - there were quite a few holes in the fence in a fuel depot that up until recently was not even under the notion of being attacked. The men crawled through their points and were inside the perimeter. Only a few guards were outside patrolling and were undoubtedly tired. Sure to believe they had made it another night as the dawn was coming.

One of the Guardsmen had gotten just too close to Team 3. Even though the Guard couldn't see them yet, Cormac's fellow soldiers took the shot and killed him dead. The plan had begun a little early.

Suddenly the lights were coming on and Cormac was blinded for a moment - guardsmen hearing the shot ran out of the station and were met with a reel of bullets from the Sergeant's group. Suddenly Teams 2 and 3 were in a firefight with the Guardsmen - many of whom were not real military combatants and were novices of battle. Cormac wiped his eyes and headed on as quickly as he could with his men to the truck. As they rushed the Guards caught them in their sights, and opening fire upon them Cormac saw one man, Dermott, get hit and collapse on the ground and roll into a ditch into the darkness. Cormac had no time to stop however as every second put the rest of the operation in danger.

Cormac and two others rushed into the truck while two more hanging on behind it started firing out. Cormac saw no key and began to jimmy the ignition himself. Back in Vedrarfjord once upon a time he was a mechanic in the Ivernish Imperial Army.

Suddenly it came to life, and the two men outside jumped in. ''It's full o' fuel Cormac, this is the right one, lets get the fuck out of here!''. Cormac began to hear explosions. Errant bullets falling foul of unsafe fuel was causing what could soon be a disaster. Cormac hit the accelerator and punched through the wire fence out into the darkness and the brush. It was incredibly risky driving the fuel truck off-road but right now they knew the Oileáin Na Tríonóide military forces were storming up the roads heading straight for Vinegar Hill. Cormac was to speed along Low Island's many fields and plains for as long as he could before hiding the truck in a friendly farmer's hedge for later pickup by his comrades.

Behind him in his mirror he could see flashing as the firefight continued - he only hoped the rest of the guys and the Sergeant wouldn't be lost in the heist.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

August 16

A late summer rain had come in and briefly soaked the Lowport region. After it had subsided, a slight humidity had begun to make General Gramelski sweat in the back of the jeep. He had found Ivernish Major Seamus Logain in his headquarters, eagerly issuing order after order, the whole place in absolute chaos. Gramelski had wearily sat in an empty chair in the large tent as he was ignored by the active men who shuttled papers, updated maps, and were typing on military typewriters. In plain olive drab, Gramelski watched the Major work. Gramelski instantly recognized the major as a leader but was perhaps too green he thought. After a few minutes, the general put that thought to rest. It seemed the major's staff was not of the highest caliber. Either they lacked experience or were inept. Gramelski had yet to decide. After a few more minutes, he shook his head and began walking towards the Major when a corporal walked straight into him with a tray of hot tea. The young man had a look of shock, then fear as Gramelski's face did not betray his obvious anger. Yet the general knew it was a mistake and wiped what he could from his uniform. In his accented English, Gramelski merely said 'coffee'. The boy scampered off.

A Captain, who was clearly past retirement age in any major army in the world, stood at the General's side to act as translator. The general approached the Major and merely bowed his head lightly. Though he was a general, Gramelski was technically under the major's command and bowing his head seemed the only appropriate action as saluting a lower rank first did not seem right. The two talked at length through the interpreter and Gramelski demanded a briefing of the current situation. He was pleased that the Major seemed to have all the information necessary but was not pleased with the situation. He and his Ivernish counterparts had to hold a massive front with only a few thousand men. It occurred to him that the Major intended to basically follow a textbook defensive strategy. Looking at the map with the Major, Gramelski rapidly began to illustrate his plan. Neither the Major's plan, nor his, would promise success but Gramelski knew Lowport was playing for time. In the distance, the General heard the crash of artillery. The minute hand on the clock seemed to be moving ever faster.

 

[Ivernia]

August 26th
Walis Dock
Low Island
Oileáin Na Tríonóide


Ricochets from bullets were pinging and scraping by the metal containers that dotted the dock. Cormac was pleased to be still be some distance back, and focused himself. Breathing in he held firm and released a short burst of fire. One more INAF men downed as the Republicans moved closer and closer to taking the Walis Dock.

Cormac could hear shouting, he could hear his name - ''Cormac! Wake up!'' His Sergeant was shouting from a little further ahead, specifically where the INAF fire was centralizing. ''Take your team and get ready - we're moving forward - get ready to go around and enter by the east gate!''

Cormac ordered his own team to get ready. The firefight continued for a short while longer but while men were lost from both sides - INAF simply could not hold the battle against the Republicans. Sergeant Ghlass and his team were all former Order of the Southern Sky soldiers. Cormac knew their squadron was one of the main reasons the Republicans were making any gains at all in Low Island as the INAF still countered with more numbers and more equipment.

''Clear! Move forward immediately! GOGOGO'' Ghlass and his men began to hustle forward container by container as they began to take more of the port.

Cormac and his team began to swing around the port eastward in a long arc. With scoped rifles they would take up a covering fire position from the east, before heading through the east gate once the central battle moved further away. Cormac could see the whole port as he moved further into an elevated position. A very small port, entirely commercial, clearly not used in some time. While ships were docked and container ''cans'' were strewn about the dock it was clear the naval risks of the Civil War had greatly impacted business in Low Island as few civilians were even in the general area. Cormac made his way to the position with his men - aiming down into the port the men offered overfire for Sergeant Ghlass's main battlegroup. The firefight continued for a few minutes more, automatic riflefire interspersed with momentary explosions which created a heavy metal ring as the shrapnel rippled around the docks and the container cans. It was deafening even from Cormac's distance - he could only imagine further in.

''Cormac I think it's time to move, the east gate is undermanned and we have our chance to grab it and hold it!'' One of his men with binoculars was watching for the team's moment of opportunity. Once the east gate is taken the remaining INAF soldiers will be surrounded with no clear retreat route - in the confusion Sergeant Ghlass will demand a surrender.

''Alright men - it's time to move! It's time to-''

*Calling Sergeant Ghlass, repeat Sergeant Ghlass* The radio on Dermott's back was hissing.

''Cormac we have a transmission!'' Radioman Dermott was talking into his radio - first with a look of confusion, then with a kind of alarm Cormac hadn't seen on Dermott's face since Dungarvin Forest.

''Cormac, apparently Low Island is being bombed heavily further up north! Captain Hobert Mac Cumhaill is warning us the birds 're gonna pass right by us! Sergeant Ghlass is in the Docks and we need to get this transmission to him and get him out of there!''

Cormac's men were becoming frantic. There was no time to make their way through the east gate, still defended to an extent, and make their way to Ghlass - and yet without the rest of the squadron they were totally fucked getting out of here.

''Right, fuck, we've gotta get the fuck down there right now. C'mon guys we don't have time!''

The move was completely in vain and Cormac knew it. By the time Cormac and his team were even half way down the incline he could hear the rumbling.

''Hold men! We're too late - just stay down!'' the men went prone.

Four jet fighters buzzed over the port - and swung back around in a long broad sweep over the Gothic Sea. The firefight ceased. Cormac just hoped the Republicans could get back out in time. The AME Eagles were sweeping back, picking up speed as the noise was becoming louder and louder. Cormac could see poor hopeless INAF soldiers shooting in vain with rifles in the sky as they anticipated their end. The AME Eagles fired and flew high over the dock in perfect formation, in a moment their rockets hit the port - and hit it hard. Cormac and his men covered their ears but even still the explosion was absolutely tremendous. An ear-splitting, earth shattering explosion threw shipping containers into the air as a plume of muddy earth and dust shot up in the wake of the direct hit. The AME Eagles were beginning to swing back around for another attack, but Cormac wasn't going to hang around for the show - Walis Port was lost and there was nothing he could do about it. He could see his own men were completely blindsided.

''We've lost the port. The IIA are attacking Low Island - the Air Force only responds to them - we all know that. We need to retreat right now to the rendezvous point - if we're lucky some survivors from the port will make it back too. C'mon!''

The men got up and ran like hell to the rendezvous point. Cormac was making a beeline for the woods where he might be able to find some cover. Whether this was a fly-by or a full scale IIA invasion Corporal Cormac didn't know, he didn't know what to think except stick to the original agreed plan. Retreat.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

August 19
Northwest of Lowport

Sergeant Michel Granche of the 2RVI moved quickly through the muddy trench, bent over at the waist and clutching his rifle hard. He had seen service in the Green Peninsula as a member of the Colonial Forces but not as a formal member of the Burgundian army. As he darted around a corner he almost laughed, thinking of how different the two places were. Ivernia lacked the stifling humidity and things were a different and deeper green here. He stopped and braced against a wall of the trench as a mortar shell exploded nearby. The enemy was perhaps 150 meters away. He brushed dirt from his chest which had been thrown by the exploding mortar round and paused to check his watch. It was nearly time for the assault to begin. The General had convinced the Ivernish commander to pull resources for a one time mass offensive lasting no longer than 48 hours. The objective was to push back the rebel advance, even for a brief time, and send them into confusion. Additionally, the assault would hopefully confuse the enemy's intel on numbers. As Granche moved up the the trench, Ivernish and Burgundians were praying or rechecking weapons. He thought either way of ensuring readiness was appropriate.

His platoon was a mixture of 'former' Burgundian army and colonial troops, a few volunteers with minimal military experience, and two very old former firefighters who he guessed had to be in their 60's. Armed with mostly fairly basic equipment, Granche wondered if the Ivernish military would be supplying them further. After all, he had heard that they were not to expect reinforcements from Bourgogne for some time; from which he reasoned that meant supplies too. He shook the thought from his head an glanced at his watch. 2 minutes. He exhaled sharply. The attack would be supported fully though it seemed that the rebels outgunned his side in artillery and armor. Granche knew a rough fight was ahead. He looked at his watch again. Only 10 seconds had passed. He pursed his lips and set his rifle down and drank from his canteen with no visible reaction to the metallic taste which came from the aluminum canteen. He looked at his watch again and it was time. Grasping his rifle, he signaled for his platoon to get down. Suddenly, the sky erupted in mortar and artillery rounds which streaked above and hit the rebel positions. Granche did not speak but raised his rifle over the trench as the line exploded with fire. Somewhere to his right he could barely hear friendly tanks begin their advance. He signaled his men. The assault had begun.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

August 22
Northwest of Lowport

Granche watched through his binoculars wearily. The two day offensive had smashed a small hole in the rebel lines which they had exploited. However, the entire sector had been stripped for the offensive and as the units returned to their respective placements, they were now on their own again to hold the line. They had quickly thrown together a patchwork defensive line. The 2RVI held the right with the 1RVI on the left. Ivernish troops held the center. The line had moved only a few miles but it had bought time. Few of the troops realized they were playing for time but Granche had known early. The binoculars refocused on a small outcrop of trees across the rolling field. Had he seen it? The beige painted barrel of an anti-tank gun? Granche slid back down the side of the shallow trench and motioned for the nearest man, an Ivernish Lieutenant who was serving as one of two liaison officers. Granche did not speak but cautiously pointed. The gruff Ivernish officer carefully raised himself, looked and slid back down with a nod. It was only about 180-200 meters away. Granche reached for his field radio receiver. A few minutes passed before a sporadic thrump thrump thrump could be heard from the 2RVI's three mortars. The impacts seemed to have good effect but once again, his section of the line erupted. It soon began to turn from brief firefight to full on engagement. Granche screamed for fire to shift right. Rebel artillery began to land. Granche looked for the Ivernish liaison but he was nowhere to be found. He raised his rifle and began to fire in short bursts at the enemy line. With a sickening shock, the rifle would not fire. Granche had seen combat before but this was madness he thought. He realized his rifle was only out of ammo and sunk to the bottom of the trench to feed it another stripper clip. He was pleased that though the rifle was old it wasat least it was semi-auto. He had seen the Ivernish troops marching with their bolt action rifles which were reliable but seemed to most Burgundians to be antiquated. It was true that the Burgundians had surplus rifles which were no longer being issued but at least they could keep pulling the trigger he thought. Just then a platoon of Ivernish troops, bent at the waist, hurried down his trench. Granche was confused until he saw the liasion officer, smirking at the rear of the platoon. Granche watched as the platoon made their bolt action rifles seem like submachine guns, laying down a hail of fire. All he could do was shake his head...and suddenly he was crying. Granche put his face in his hands and within a minute stopped the tears, only to vomit harshly.

 

[Ivernia]

August 27th
Low Island
Oileáin Na Tríonóide

Corporal Cormac awoke in a daze. All his body ached and was dirty. Not just from the events of last night - rather the sleeping in the woods. It was not yet dawn thankfully as he needed to still cover yet more ground and he was sure at daylight things would only escalate once more. Cormac was still not sure what had happened. An airstrike meant the Ivernish Imperial Army was now acting in Oileáin Na Tríonóide. That meant either Caladbolg had struck a deal with the Governors of the Trinity Isles - or had invaded anyways. Neither option was good for Cormac and the survivors of his band of Republicans. He remembered running, so much running, as gunfire followed him. Soldiers came down on parachutes, huge tanks over the hills. It was like nothing Cormac had seen not even from his times in Milesia. The only time was from back when he was still serving in the Imperial Army. All at once a lightbulb. He motioned to his men.

''Wait a moment. Wait, you remember the tanks?''

His fellow soldiers nodded towards him. Exhausted from the night, they could barely move themselves up from the ground.

''Cósantoir. New tanks only in Nemedia. I remember once seeing one pull in to the base I worked in. That means the Ivernish Imperial Army is actually on Low Island. Like with boots on the ground an' everything. But when they airstrike'd the port they just, like, blew it to hell. INAF were there, got all got blown to hell too - maybe this is an invasion?''

''Sure looks like it.'' Dermott retorted. His radio backpack was gone - far too heavy and they had to make tracks fast. With no radio though the men had run blind. Looking over a map Dermott was trying to figure out where they were - as twilight preceded the dawn he read the map and adjusted his compass.

''Corporal, I think I have a rough estimate of where we are. We're in a forest to the north. It looks like we've after been running north the whole time.''

Cormac's heart sank. Nearly the exact opposite direction. ''Ah shite - wrong way completely. We have to make it back South East - we need to get back to Milesia mainland. Main Republican camps across Low Island are no way safe anymore.''

''No Corporal, I don't recommend that. Remember Caladbolg is still occupying Vedrarfjord. If the Imperial Army is truly attacking Low Island the Milesian Seas will be swept with the Navy. Absolutely no chance of slipping back into North Milesia, if they catch us over seas they'll just gun us down.''

The other troops started to lose hope. ''What would you recommend Dermott?'' One of them asked.

''I think we should keep heading North. We take off our patches, leave our guns behind. We just play civilians and get onto a fishing boat and make our way North to Long Island. Either we make our way back to Milesia from there or lay low for awhile. We just need to survive, right Corporal?''

Cormac had a decision to make. Highest rank surviving as far as he knew, and the fate of his comrades in his hands. Not to mention the last man with any military experience left in the group. Sure Dermott, now technically his second in command, was only a college student in the University of Vedrarfjord back before the War. Corporal Cormac had the choice to make. Fight or flight.

''I agree. Lets get some civilian clothes and then ditch the guns. We need to stay out of this firefight until things cool down. We head North West from here, hopefully we'll run into some farms. Even scarecrow's clothes would do us.''

The men seemed very relieved. Only Militia men, Cormac had to remind himself. Only too happy to play civilian once again and take a break from battle, a break from the war. They needed to mend their heads - no mental strength for warfare. Cormac knew from the beginning that Militia would always fatigue early, and in the face of such fury from Caladbolg, would wish to bend and break. After so short a campaign though he was disappointed to see them already begin to crumble and yet he could not blame them. Cormac had a feeling that he would be making his way back to Milesia alone - as these poor broken men would choose to live out what lives they could with a new identity as far away from War as they were able to be.

 

[Saaremaa]

20th of August 1955
Naoned

The atmosphere in the office of the Benadur was tense. It was just a few minutes away from six o’clock in the morning, but Rewan Map Andain was still at the office. He just had a meeting with the Security Council of the Woad Guards, regarding the National-Corporatist terrorist crisis that started nearly twelve hours ago and finally now he managed to end it. He went out of the conference room and went to his office. When he sat on the chair, looking around, he thought if the other Bendaurs before him had to work and to serve the Union in such a world that goes from crisis to crisis in a vicious circle. Two days ago, the national-corporatist terrorist hunt continues, yesterday, the Ivernian refugee camps. Today, problems continue: War in Ivernia continues, strange fires that may represent some failed experiments in Aodh-Mor Corporation and Ivernian refugees on the border, or should he say Milesian… it was just like a continuous list of calamities and problems that are falling on you like a cascade. He just needed some time, at least for a few moments. He asked for some tea and a secretary that knew him and his tastes brought him a huge pot full of black tea, some milk and three big cups. As he poured the tea and the milk in one cup he could just feel the aroma for just a moment. The secretary came again:

“Benadur Rewan, the representatives of the Immigration office and of the Woad Guards have arrived,” she said as she just slightly opened the door, without entering the office. She knew that Rewan didn’t like to be disturbed when he was enjoying his tea, so even if it was important she made sure not to make eye contact with him.

“Very well… send them in…” he said with an annoyed tone. A woman in a brown deux-piece and a man in a ceremonious military uniform, with a white shirt and belt and black tie, trousers, jacket and cap with a white ermine symbol in the center, walked in.

“Benadur, sorry for the disturbance, but the problem with the Ivernians must be discussed,” said the woman. Her name was Oriana Ferch Isolda, which was a rare thing, to have a matronymic. It meant that her father either died before she was born, or that she was born out of wedlock. She was in her late forties, but looked around ten times younger. She had honey-like eyes and a red hair that linked to some Ivernian heritage. The man was named Leigh Map Iden. He was in his mid-fifties and was the Commissar-General of Dumnonia, the highest regional office of the Internal Counterespionage Division of the Woad Guards.

“So, regarding the war in Milesia and the refugees. I believe that we should think this through now and here and be ready to make a decision, because we don’t have the luxury of losing so much time. A unified Ivernia under the leadership of the national-corporatists will be a threat for this continent. They won’t probably attack the Tramorwyr immediately, because they share their xenophobic and discriminatory ideals, but Caledonia will surely be a target. What is to be done?” asked the Benadur after showing the cups to the others, inviting them to serve themselves.

“It is clear that the conflict in Milesia must continue. Maybe it must even be won by the republicans. It will be sure that if the republicans win, Nuada and his party will not be part of the Dail for a long time. If we cannot manage to win it, we must at least make sure that the Milesians resist… resist and make as much damage as possible… maybe even enough damage to make sure that for the time Nuada is out of his office the country still isn’t the same level as it was before the war,” said the commissar-general.

“There is also the problem with the refugees. The five billion cynfreds that we give for the humanitarian operations and the construction of the refugee camps are not enough. We have consumed all of our funds yet, but by the rate things are going, it two or three weeks, we will need additional funding,” said the woman as she took out and looked at some papers from her agency.

“We must get out of this isolation regarding the fate of this continent. As much as I would like it, it seems that hiding our heads in the sand and waiting for the storm to pass isn’t working. We are republicans. It is the duty of our party, the Revolutionary Party, to remember how we were in those days a hundred years ago and to see that the Ivernians are passing through the same problems, but in the present day. So, I say and I firmly believe it, that the best way to go would be to see either a whole republican Ivernia, either an independent Milesia and no Nuada at Caladbolg in the rest of Ivernia, which keeps its monarchy,” said the Benadur.

“For that we will have to help the Milesian Republican Army,” said the Commissar-General. “We will have to arm them and even get some volunteers for them and the first thing that must be done with those, as fast as possible, is to take back Vedrarfjord,” he continued.

“Yes, if we take back the city, we will raise the morale of the republican army. It must be done as fast as possible. As for the volunteers… We have the refugees on our territory. They will be a problem for the infrastructure of the prefecture and for the economy, as it will destabilize it even more. Miss Oriana, I would like for you and for your agency to work together with the Woads and to select a first batch of volunteers from the refugees. If we will deplete this pool we will start looking for Caledonian volunteers to fight,” said the Benadur as he looked at the cup of tea, seeing that it has become cold.

“Understood, sir,” she said as she wrote something in a notebook.

“We will have to arm the republican army as soon as possible. They must be able to pack a punch, do you understand, Commissar Leigh? If needed I will give you the necessary approvals to take weapons from the Kerns, if necessary and to give them to the militias as they must organize a counter-attack to retake Vedrarfjord,” the Benadur said. “At first, I want to have them armed with small weapons, from rifles and submachine guns to antitank rifles or even grenade and rocket launchers. After Vedrarfjord is taken, we should send some APCs and armored vehicles to them also. Don’t forget about the Formorians, Commissar Leigh. I want to know what is happening there. This war might be balanced again if we are to support the Milesians, but if the Formorians decide to support Nuada, we are fucked, whereas if we give them the reason to think that Nuada is over, they might join it to finish him quicker. That is why I want Vedrarfjord to be retaken. Even if the battle for the city starts again, it still sends an echoing sing, do you understand?”

“I understand, Benadur.”

“We have the luxury of having a direct line between us and the Milesians through the border between the sea and Lake Ester, but the national-corporatist forces are pushing both from the lake and from Lowport to isolate them from us. That is why I want that border secured and the shipments to be sent and received as quickly as possible. Also, Leigh, tell Commissar-General Kevan Map Orin, the commander over Deira, to take over the case of the National-Corporatist terrorists. I want you to concentrate on this mission alone. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, Benadur,” said the man as he got up from the chair, saluted and then went out of the office.

“Miss Oriana, try to infuse some medieval greatness into the calls for voluntaries in the refugees. Tell them that the Gallowglass have been recreated.”

“I understand, Benadur,” she said as she also got up and left the office. Rewan looked then at the clock. It was half past eight. Another white night came and passed and now he literally just forgot when it was when he slept the last time.

 

[Ivernia]

September 4th
Midhe Parliament House
Royal City Caladbolg
High Kingdom of Ivernia


It was a warm dry day in Caladbolg. One of the last, as September arrived to the High Kingdom the Religious Ceremonies would start to commence to mourn the ''death of the sun'' and with it would bring the cold and hardship all Ivernish knew. Along the paved streets the people hustled and bustled across a large open square. College Green was a large, very wide open street for pedestrians only - and with two separate universities, businesses and even the Midhe Parliament House all connected to ''the Green'' it had become a hang out zone for almost everyone in Caladbolg. Students, businessmen on lunch in their suits, government clerks all congregated on this street to sit in the last sun of the year as Autumn rolled on. One kind of person notably not present were the tourists. As far as Caladbolg attempted at the appearance of ''business as usual'' it was not enough to fool the world, and even within the city considered the apex of High Gaelic Culture, the strains of the Civil War were being felts and cracks were beginning to become noticeable.

Within Midhe Parliament House, Nuada Airgetlám sat in his office, the Parliamental Office of the Taoiseach, reserved for him for when he was just out of, or just about to enter the Dáil. With the windows open he could hear this commotion outside, as the Gaels spent their time in College Green enjoying themselves.

Nuada Airgetlám was accompanied by two Representatives, close to Nuada. Mr. Huxely, a brusque, passionate man known for his aggression in debating as well as his general sense of aggression. His main hobbies being owning land and eating food. Nuada's other companion in the office was a Mr. Duncan Loch, a man who is now the Minister for War, and his only passion being Ivernish Expansionism. These three fine men were taking the day in and talking the day away in Nuada's office awaiting their most esteemed guests who while not directly invited, Nuada had no doubt they would arrive in due time.

Airgetlám was not incorrect. Around 3pm on the afternoon, three men came into Nuada's office in a rage. Surrounding them were several soldiers, althought the men who burst in at least appeared to take no notice of them.

''Ah Representatives MacArthur and Ulltur, you are most welcome, and Governor Rothillan, an honour to have you in Caladbolg.''

''Nuada, I would not say the same of you and yours.'' Said the Governor curtly. ''It has taken some time to make my way to Caladbolg to ask this of you personally, what the hell are you playing at in Oileáin na Tríonóide? This wasn't part of our agreement?''

Nuada stood up from his chair to look his visitor in the eyes. ''What agreement was this Rothillan?''

''We agreed, you would only move into Low Island, you would not move any further than that, and you would not engage the soldiers of Oileáin na Tríonóide in combat! All three broken and the Trinity Isles backstabbed by it's own supposed capital. You invaded - yes invaded! - Low Island, Long Island and Cormac's Island. Your Imperial Army is in Chathair Camhaoir and Oileáin na Tríonóide soldiers lie dead in the fields and the survivors of your initial attacks are being removed from their posts! I offered you one island and you have taken all three!''

Nuada's temper flared, ''I have ''taken'' nothing. In case you forgot, Oileáin na Tríonóide belongs to Caladbolg always. It belongs to me. I allowed you to play neutral because I did not need the soldiers from that Province but once the republicans invaded all bets were off. The ''deal'' we made was a formality I had no obligation to honour. You are just a Governor you are not the High King of the Trinity Islands!''

Rothillan seemed aghast, but Nuada was to continue, ''Oileáin na Tríonóide is once again under direct control of His Majesty Felix's Imperial Forces and you should be counting your lucky stars I do not charge you with treason - for stepping to a side when the High King demanded unity and loyalty to Caladbolg.''

MacArthur and Ulltur began to step back and bumped into the soldiers behind them. Representative Duncan Loch stood up quite casually. ''Our main goal, no, -your- main goal is to begin washing away any traces of republicanism that may have seeped into your forces during your little Neutral Episode your Province had or expect your officers to see mass demotions. Loyalty to Caladbolg should be their imperative. Our Minister for Propaganda here, Reprentative Micheal Huxely shall be heading to Oileáin na Tríonóide personally to ensure State Licensed material is distributed to the troops immediately and consistently.''

''I shall indeed!'' Huxely was next to stand up, showing his full height and broadness of shoulder, walking over to the Governor and slapping a hand onto his shoulder, holding his hand there and squeezing it in. ''Don't worry Rothillan, you and I shall see to it that your entire forces will remember their Homeland, their Empire and their Race! I will consider it a major step towards clearing you of any concern that you may have acted in self interest during this little Neutral affair, which as you would well be aware, would have you against a firing squad! Gyahahahah!'' Huxely's booming laugh would drown out Rothillans' protests and Nuada signaled to the soldiers to move the intruders from his office. Huxely and Loch both followed the Trinity Islanders out, closing the door behind allowing their Dear Leader to be alone with his thoughts.

Keeping the leaders of Oileáin na Tríonóide alive after Nuada's invasion was a risky move on Nuada's part, but he was sure once the well-loved Governor began to publicly announce his never-ending support for Caladbolg, and gratitute for Caladbolg saving them from the republicans attacking Low Island, he would have secured another province against John Holt. He was starting to see the end of the troubles in Oileáin na Tríonóide.

He knew next up for him was Formoria, where Southron Communists poisoned the minds of the simple northern Formorian men. He knew the silence from the north was them waiting for the snow to come. He knew and he didn't care. Nuada sat back on his chair and called to his assistant to call to send word to Cidolfus Aodh-Mór to return to Caladbolg as soon as possible.

 

[Ivernia]

September 7th
Midhe Parliament House
Royal City Caladbolg
High Kingdom of Ivernia


Fifteen years ago, 1940. The High Queen Áine Aodh-Mór abdicates the throne as her illness begins to take it's toll. After 10 years on the throne it comes as a shock to the public who expected a long reign. In a panic, the Elector Princes attempt to declare Áine's much younger brother Cid to become High King.

Cid, who was still only a young officer in the military denied them. He always thought the throne was for his big sister and grew up with dreams of being a soldier like his uncles and forefathers before him. As such, the Elector Princes declared for Áine's husband, another Prince, Felix Ua Néill to take over as the new High King of Ivernia.

Felix Ua Néill turned out to be a fine leader, however a very reserved, introspective and quiet leader. Always more interested with his books he always let his dear extroverted Áine do the talking for both of them in the public stage. Without her the man was lost. The position of High King had never been more pulled back from the politics of Ivernia. Cidolfus wondered now how powerful the office of Taoiseach and the commoners House of Representatives had become in the reduction of Noble influence these past 15 years.

In 1945 Áine died. This November the ''sun would die'' and the legions of religious ceremonies would begin for the dead as the season of Samhain would commence. The 10 years anniversary of the former High Queen's Death, and the many deaths from the Civil War would make this one of the largest Samhain's in decades and had made Cidolfus think about paths not taken.

Cidolfus was waiting in the office in the Taoiseach now, in Midhe Parliament House in the Royal City Caladbolg. Airgetlám was not yet out of the Dáil. Cidolfus was with a man he knew quite well, Mr. Bran Ogden, the head of G2 and special intelligence services.

The two did not talk business until Airgetlám arrived, with a great stride to his step he clearly was rushing his way back from Parliament. His cadre of soldiers waited at the door and Airgetlám closed the door behind him.

''Marshal Aodh-Mór, an honour to have you back in Nemedia. Let me first congratulate you for your stalwart efforts in Milesia. How goes the Liberated City of Vedrarfjord? I mean aside from my many public reports that all is steady.'' The Taoiseach moved to the desk and sat in his seat in front of Aodh-Mór and Ogden.

''I'm sure Mr. Ogden has filled you in, but while we have managed to keep the city stable there is still a large group of the populace who are still supporting the White Dove Movement. Some even physically has we know that Republican attacks are being made possible on Vedrarfjord due to being accommodated by members of the public. More must be done to turn the population back to the High Kingdom, Nuada. We need more resources to rebuild the infrastructure we destroyed in the Liberation.''

''I know, I know, Cidolfus.'' Nuada said with a frown. ''You remember how against the use of Airtillery I was, you remember? For 5 months I tried to hold back and speak with the Republicans and for 5 months I was ignored. I do not wish to cause undue suffering unto the Vedrarfjordians, as gaelic as you or I, but we do not have the resources as of now. The Civil war takes it's toll and we must maintain our fronts, and even unfortunately open up fresh some old ones.''

Cidolfus remembered Airgetlám's decision from the official report, but wanted to hear it from Nuada himself.

''New fronts? Formoria? I thought Mr. Ogden said they were waiting for the heavy snows.''

Bran Ogden, siting next to the Field Marshal and Commander of the Central Sky, turned to his colleague, ''They are indeed. My intelligence shows that Carentania, possibly Auararia and others are equipping the Formorians as we speak. Specifically Dún Dé is planning to completely revolt and the rest of Formoria will follow. The snows are already coming - however I do not expect them to declare against Caladbolg until right before Samhain. During the Holy Month of the Dead we will be forced to march on Formoria, where the main celebrations happen in Baile Atha an Rí, it's a smart move that will make us out to be blasphemous - and we can't lose the Churches support in all of this.''

Cidolfus completely agreed with that - infighting in Ivernia during Samhain will be a travesty in many peoples eyes. The fighting was sure to intensify right up until November though, as both sides will try to solidify some semblance of borders before the month long holiday.

''The mission of the G2 will be to try to influence the decision makers in Formoria with our own spies. The Carentanian agents want Formoria to declare against Caladbolg as soon as possible, so our agents will actually have to convince those in Formoria to agree with them. The mission of you will be South in the Commonwealth for the time being.''

Seeing Cidolfus' eyes aghast, Nuada continued for Bran ''Yes the Commonwealth. We thought that the rebellion had ended but with the Civil War in the Home Counties - well opportunism is opportunism. The rebels have become very well armed while we were sorting out our own house and have become defacto in control in large parts of the Commonwealth. It's the height of Summer over there so they are going to declare soon for the Cósta na tSolais Socialist Republic. CSSR forces are well armed, war tested from our rebellion and they know the terrain well. Mostly with native forces but with Gaels and foreign Socialists and Communists also contributing a great amount of tactics and military intelligence. This is a new Front Cidolfus and I need you to lead the Commonwealth's defences.''

Cidolfus was sure some small part of him was surprised at all this but largely he had a feeling the Civil War was going to spread to every part of the Empire. Nuada may have slowed it down by giving them Home Rule early on but it was still only a matter of time for the rebels in the Commonwealth to rise up again.

''What of Vedrarfjord? If I have to mobilise forces to the Commonwealth from the Central Sky you know the Republicans will attack to try to retake their old Capital?''

''It's only a matter of time.'' Nuada agreed, ''But a great deal of the artillery and mechanised cavalry used to take the City won't be needed knocking back the small militias. Besides with the seasons changing the Milesians will take to combat slower and slower. Holding Vedrarfjord takes less combat expertise and you are needed elsewhere. Besides I'll have you back for Formoria regardless.''

It was not Cidolfus' place to complain, or exasperate. He was the Field Marshal and if a closer personal presence was needed in Ivernia's wars then so be it.

''Bran, Nuada, we'll need to break up a map of territories again. I need to know where the CSSR has control, where we have control, every brigade, every man - everything.''

Nuada Airgetlám seemed pleased. ''Excellent. I'll call for the other generals. In the interests of security I don't recommend any of us leave until we have the groundworlk laid down right here. Communiques between ourselves always carry a change of interception after all. We're looking at being here for some time.''