The White Dove and the Emerald Eagle

[Holy Frankish Empire]

September 3
Northwest of Lowport

The group stood in a circle as the sound of gunfire was closer than most would have liked. When they all ducked, General Gramelski stood and tracked the sound of the passing shell with his eyes, never even taking the hands from his pockets. They were about to pull back. They had held the line for days against swift and harsh attacks. Gramelski had told Logain that his men were not going to eat up all of their stores holding the line. The two had bitterly argued long into the night. Gramelski was worried that the line was too thin. He reasoned that by contracting the line once again, they could engage the enemy in a tactical engagement which was not a virtual siege. Eventually, Gramelski won the argument. The day before, Gramelski was alerted that his armored contingent would be delayed. His response to the Burgundian government was likely going to mean his career in Burgundian forces had no future. He had shrugged it away. It didn't matter if they were not more aggressive. Gramelski had studied the map. If they were forced into Lowport it would be vicious fighting with no retreat. Either they would break out or slowly be hemmed in. The General began speaking to the circle of officers around him who had ducked from the shell. "Gentlemen, our Ivernish host wishes us to defend Lowport. We will be pulling back and if God is with us, Major Logain will let us counterattack with everything we've got". He looked down at his watch and frowned. "30 minutes. Have the boys eat now. We are marching several miles".

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

September 11
Outskirts of Lowport

The counterattack had gone brilliantly for a time. Major Logain was cautious and the right flank of the attack, which he commanded, fell behind the rest of the thrust. Nearly flanked, Gramelski had to call it off and the line retreated back to its former positions. In a matter of days, the rebels attacked. On the 8th, the lines were shattered by successive attacks in all directions. With no air support and armor strength kept in reserve, it was nearly an utter collapse. General Gramelski that night had nearly traded fists with his Ivernish counterpart. Logain was no fool but he was too cautious and seemed to disregard much advice. Gramelski had yelled but Logain and he did not share a langue so his translator had coolly translated Gramelski's tirade. "Get us some fucking reinforcements and some fucking tanks you green hill humping ass" he had roared in French with his heavy Wendowie accent. Now the lines had drawn back within sight of the city. Their only hope was to be resupplied by sea. Already, the people of Lowport were fleeing on any vessel that would float. Soon the city would be under siege.

 

[Ivernia]

17th September
Vedrarfjord Port
Liberated City of Vedrarfjord

Now that Captain Mac Rua was commissioned with the control of two ships, he was officially a Commodore. While it was what he had always dreamed of - under wartime between his own homeland was not what he expected. During such drastic times promotions become easier to maintain, so long as your loyalty and support for Caladbolg is without question.

His two ships, while originally from Fir Bholg, now rested in the Vedrarfjord Port. On a calm, mild, grey day as this the grey ships seemed almost serene from afar, however up close a great deal of movement was happening on Mac Rua's vessels. The new Commodore was loading his ships for an important mission.

The Fir Bholg Brigade had been brought into the Civil War when Lieutenant-General O'Reilly had swooped in with the 1st Fir Bholg Brigade to Oileáin Na Tríonóide immediately as the Provincial Governors allowed the IIA to enter the Isles under the auspice of ''fighting republican spillover from the Milesian Conflict.'' The invasion of the Trinity Isles was a success, with all major ports under IIA control. Fir Bholg always expressed it's continued loyalty to Caladbolg, and were just waiting for the right moment to be utilised.

Commodore Mac Rua was to lead the next stage of Caladbolg's plans in the Gothic Sea. With the Lieutenant-General shoring up power in the Trinity Isles it is now on the onus of the Admirals to crush all republican influence in the Gothic Sea, especially the Milesian Coast around Waesfjord which has become a no-go zone for the Ivernish Imperial Navy.

The stop at Vedrarfjord was not just a refuel. Local national forces loaded the two ships under the Commodores command with arms, munitions, food and clothing. A delivery of aid for the people of besieged city of Lowport, a city that has managed to stave off capture from republicans for months. The city, it was reported - was in an incredibly dire shape. The entire defence forces led by a Major - and the only reason fir it still standing was from volunteer forces.

The Officers from his other ship reported that they were loaded and ready to go. The Commodore noted he had still a small ways to go. But none the less the two Ships were still on time to disembark before the sunset. They would be in Lowport in a matter of a few short days to lay on a new front of attack to save the city.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

September 16th Defensive works outside Lowport

Major Logain had been relegated to co-commander. The argument had been fierce and the accusations many, but eventually Gramelski agreed to share command with the Ivernish Major. The Burgundians had held off 6 major attacks. Ammunition was so scarce that his men were now only keeping 3 rounds loaded in their rifles to cut down on nervous fire at the outset of an attack. The Burgundians just that morning had repulsed a concentrated attack by rebels who used armored vehicles in their vanguard. Sergeant Michel Granche of the 2RVI had faced the attack head on. Molotov cocktails had to be used as anti-tank ammunition was scarce. He had lost 8 teeth as a shell threw him against a rock which braced a corner of the trench. He had awoken with a mouth full of blood and dirt only to discover teeth mixed in the dirt-blood stew. Granche wanted to go home. 'Why the fuck did I volunteer for this?' he thought almost every day.

Now, near noon, he sat and ate the dark bread and vegetable stew which was their now daily ration as meat and other essentials had gone away. The only thing in abundance were cigarettes and Granche could not smoke due to his mouth injury. He had just dipped a hunk in the stew when a crack sent him to the ground. The line erupted in fire. He grasped for his helmet which had fell when he dove. Frantically looking he could not find it. Grabbing his rifle, he rose to fire. One. Two. Three. All the rounds left his rifle quickly. They were coming in large squads, advancing on their trench. After another few moments, he heard his machine guns clatter into action. The old Burgundian machine guns fired slow and rhythmic. "Fire left! Fire left!" he screamed as fresh rebel squads moved up. The Burgundians had so far put up a heroic defense but Granche and others sensed it. Today they would fall back to the city itself. This attack would break them. The Ivernish troops had fought hard as well but Major Logain had ordered most of them back to prepare the city for the siege. 2RVI had paid a true blood price with heavy injuries when they began to cover extra ground for the Ivernish troops. Granche threw smoke as did several others. The retreat to the city was starting. He looked back at the trench one last time as he turned to give covering fire to his men.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

September 25, Lowport

The crumbled wall felt cool as Granche leaned against what left of it. An anti-tank round had punched through the wall in the last few days. They had pushed the rebels out of this district but were barely clinging in other areas. Rations had arrived but in few numbers and they had split them evenly. Granche leaned down to glance out the hole made by the shell. Across the small square, rebel troops were hunkering down. The two sides, separated by 150 meters had watched each other; neither daring to engage out of pure exhaustion. Today however, Granche had seen more activity and heard windows being broken out. Had they received reinforcements? Granche contemplated sending a runner, their radio being destroyed by a fluke ricochet. Granche had not seen an officer in days and had been told to hold the three row houses they now occupied until further notice. He strained to see if anything else had occurred across the square and checked his watch. It was about 10 in the morning and a brisk breeze rolled through the hole in the second story wall. "Get the men some more rest. 2 men on 3 hour shifts on guard" he informed the section leaders. Granche laid down with his helmet under his head and slept like he hadn't in weeks.

The first few rounds came through the hole in the wall and thudded against the back wall. Granche tried to wake up but he was surprised and dazed. The sound of the mortar in the distance was the wake up call he needed. The soldiers had held the three brown brick row houses for a few days and had tunneled passages through the walls in order to connect them. Granche had slept in the middle house and ran to each other house to ensure the men were ready. The old Burgundian machine guns had been placed in windows and began to return fire. Where the hell is our relief? he wondered as he heard the scream of one of his men who took a bullet to the shoulder.

 

[Ivernia]

October 21st
Baile Ór Bhá
Chósta na tSolais
Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth


General Cidolphus's garrisons had entered Baile Ór Bhá a week prior and yet was still only just inside the county borders of what had become a territory rife with CSSR forces. Every movement was being attacked since they entered the county. It almost seemed every member of this county was a gun touting communist as the Ivernish Military Forces found it difficult to even maintain logistics this far south with little support from the natives. Cidolfus reminded himself that they were scared and untrusting for a reason. CSSR, The Chósta na tSolais Socialist Republic had been here for some time, and the citizens had to play it safe. He knew eventually he would be the rout that puts them to the sword. However today was not that day as Cidolfus sat in the war tent writing letters at his war table.

November was coming soon, and that meant the Samhain was soon upon all of Ivernia. One of the most holy holidays of the year, where people were expected to reflect upon the dead as the snow came to the High Kingdom in waves that would not end until the spring. It is like the nation dies in the winter - a land so far north only the southern Provinces like Nemedia and Milesia manage to still be able to go about their day to day. Samhain used to last from sunset of October 31st to Sunset of November 1st - but now also continues with Christian celebrations and mass for the following week also.

Nothing official had been said, but everyone knew it meant the fighting would slow down. With heavy pressure not just from the winter, but also from that all-pervasive religious atmosphere perhaps even more oppressive then even the snow convincing Ivernish men across Realm to lay down arms, even if just for a moment.

At the same time, the polar opposite was occurring in the Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth. As November crawled closer so did the mercury crawl higher as the Commonwealth was entering the height of it's Summer. A people not so attached to their labels of ''Solar Christianity'' - Nuada Airgetlám had figured the natives would continue to battle well into Samhain.

General Cidolfus Aodh-Mór was hence, dispatched south to shore up the fledgling ''autonomous'' province against CSSR. The Cósta na tSolais Socialist Republic had resurged, taking advantage of the strife in the home counties. It was the appointment of Cidolfus to put them down, once again, as quickly as possible. Airgetlám had figured the main battle front of November was here and so Cidolfus was here. It has been no easy task, as was still long from over.

Cidolfus feared for Vedrarfjord. If men were expected to lay down arms for two weeks, you can expect a fierce and terrible battle beforehand. The wizened General knew both sides would attempt to grab as much territory as they possibly could - in order to shore up the gained ground in the unofficial ''ceasefire.'' October 31st could be one of the bloodiest Ivernia has ever seen. He sent letters through the Ordú Na hÍverniann channels to his fellow generals back home to prepare themselves for a terrible day. He would have to fight here in the hellish heat and organise for a battle at the top of the world in the freezing cold. Cidolfus wiped the sweat from his brow and continued writing.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Lowport
October 10

The Burgundian commandos had arrived quietly in launches. No more than 150 had come ashore laden with ammo. All had been stripped of anything identifying them with the Burgundian military. Over the last 3 days, they had put up ferocious fighting. Now Granche found himself with 5 of them as replacements to his dwindling squad. The launches had taken what wounded they could but with the line moving back every few days, the number of wounded was climbing. Yet it seemed as if the enemy assaults were weakening. They were still quite strong but it seemed as though stiff resistance slowed them; much unlike before. Only 2 days before, Granche had been named acting Lieutenant after a shell took apart the company HQ. Now he sat nibbling on peanuts which were about the only food the commandos had to offer them. The day was unseasonably warm today and the ruined office building lacked a roof which allowed the warm sun to cover his face. Granche breathed deeply. The smell of war was not in the breeze. He leaned his head back and savored the fresh air. It was only a matter of time before cordite and death filled his nostrils. Putting his helmet on, Granche stood and had his men continue to shore up the office building which was at a T intersection on a corner. The enemy had not produced any armor in the past weeks but as a precaution the intersection had been thoroughly mined with the last anti-tank mines. The 5 story building was now only held by 23 men; one of whom had one working eye and a wounded arm. He had refused to leave despite being told he was not to survive. He somehow did. Granche peered down from the fifth floor and spotted movement in a building . He slowly leveled his weapon and methodically squeezed the trigger. The first round slammed into the wall. High. "Damn" he shouted. Slowly there was a small clatter of arms being fired. It culminated in a fast crescendo which was deafening. Granche felt a punch to his leg and suddenly he was on the floor, the clatter raging around him. Everything faded to black.

 

[Ivernia]

October 28th
Provisional Parliamentary House
Waesfjord
Self-Proclaimed Republic of Milesia

President John Holt was in a danger like never before. While of course the High Kingdom of Ivernia has waged a war against the man, the assassination attempts were beginning to pile high. The Army Ranger Wing was very much in Waesfjord and they were getting closer with each guerrilla attack, each bombing.

Holt didn't know whether to call it desperation or over confidence on the High Kingdom's part. Turning him into a martyr seems foolish, but with Vedrarfjord still under Imperial Control his influence across Ivernia and among the Gaelic Celts was beginning to wither, it might just be a perfect opportunity to make John disappear.

His conditions were certainly not the level they were back in Vedrarfjord. The Provisional Parliamentary House is a converted County Town Council. Add a siege war with the High Kingdom, and the building - like John's situation - was beginning to decay. Not to mention the bombings which did nothing to improve Waesfjord's architectural integrity. The whole city was heaving and groaning under the weight of war. John Holt rubbed his thick, coarse beard and attempted to brush out the dirt from his frayed suit. He felt less and less like a President every day. Not just as the civilians were fleeing as refugees to Imperial-held territory en-masse - but also as the war went on so too did his parliament depend more on him. The Republic was becoming entirely dependent on his Presidency and Holt felt more like a military commander than a democratic President. He tried not to think about the fact that elections were never held. Never had the chance to. ''The High Kingdom attacked us'' he had to remember. ''We are defending a Republic.''

The battle plans were laid out once again on his tables. A major military assault was planned for October 30th - through to Sunset of October 31st. In two days Republican Forces would storm Imperial Territory in Vedrarfjord and Dungarvin. If he is successful in gaining the ground Samhain would allow him to consolidate forces on that territory cutting the Empire from Vedrarfjord. It was a very long shot but it meant he could begin to rebuild his Republic as he meant it to be. He couldn't miss this opportunity, this chance.

If he failed this attack he could not see how the Republic could hold on. With every day the situation got more drastic and Formoria had not yet come to Milesia's aid like they promised. His campaigns in Oileáin na Tríonóide had turned to failure and his hold on Milesian territory in the east was coming at a very great cost. The people were starting to turn on the Republic and it was all his Police could do to stamp out resistance.

John Holt feared for the entire Continent. Nuada Airgetlám had turned a peaceful - if slightly nationalistic - country into a well-oiled militaristic war-state. Imperialism was on every channel, on every radio station and if Milesia was conquered the triumphalism would be so immense - Holt shivered with the unholy potential of such a nation.

 

[Ivernia]

October 29th
North Circular Road
Liberated City of Vedrarfjord
High Kingdom of Ivernia

Vedrarfjord had been ''liberated'' for several months now, and while the Imperial occupation was harsh, sometimes brutal, in it's enforcing of law - an uneasy peace had returned to the city. People were getting back to work, moving out of the refugee camps and the basements and back into their homes. Many had lost what they had, if not from the active warfare then stolen by the soldiers afterwards. One thing the people were sure about is never letting them ''help you with your bags.'' You'd never see them again. Sometimes they'd suddenly move a block of people from one street to another, knowing all their valuables would be with them.

Eventually law and order began to creep back into Vedrarfjord once the constant threat of attack began to dissipate. General Cidolfus re-established the Vedrarfjord Metro Police and kept the soldiers at the checkpoints and strategic buildings only, and it even seemed like trade was creeping back into what was once the industrial capital of Ivernia.

However, today the air felt like the same oppressive, fearful air as was when the Socialists took control of the city, or indeed the day after the battle of Dungarvin when the Ivernish Government marched back into the city. The air of uncertainty, as the people began to be unsure, and to fear that the hard-earned fragile stability was about to be broken. Rumours had broken out, first among the soliders and then eventually the civilians that the days before Samhain could be especially bloody, and the socialists might try to take the city back.

Ciaran Hoder was once a chemist. His shop was looted very early in the insurgency, as both sides attempted to repatriate his merchandise ''for the war effort''. Then he had nothing. Then he managed to make a living throughout the Governments occupation by tinning and tinkering metal. Now he was leaving Vedrarfjord. Him and so many others were walking the North Circular Road which led out of the city. The soldiers were leading the people out - there was little else they could do. So many were leaving only some woman and children were put on the trucks, everyone else was walking out.

Ciaran was told by some of the soldiers that the military was setting up an encampment far out in the countryside, deep into government controlled territory. People were allowed to stay in the city, but any who fear got the best of could leave for the camp and stay there for the Samhain period. Ciaran hadn't made it this far just to die. He had already lost his chosen way of life, tinkering can always be returned to so long as he's alive. He only hoped there was no fighting at all, but as he walked to the edges of the city he could see soldiers - more than he'd seen in months, all in trenches, bunkers and behind sand bags. Artillery and armour just silently waiting. It was 5pm and it had already gotten dark. Some of the escort soldiers lit gas lamps and carried them along, while others in jeeps turned on their headlights to brighten the way.

There's a rumour the attack could start as early as sunrise tomorrow. Ciaran hoped to God that one wasn't true. He had no plans to sleep or to stop walking tonight.

 

[Ivernia]

October 30th
North Circular Road
Liberated City of Vedrarfjord
High Kingdom of Ivernia

The fighting had begun since before dawn. Forces from the Republic of Milesia arrived en-masse to Vedrarfjord's hinterland an the battle was intense in the countryside. The soldiers still at the city's gates could do nothing but wait and listen to the combat. In this cold, quiet October morning the noise from cannonfire was completely audible. The distant bangs and roars echoed in the heads of every citizen in Vedrarfjord. Any attempt to forget the memories of the past now gone, any semblance of peace now shattered as with the day progressing so too did the fire gain in volume.

The men around the North Circular Road had a special reason to fear. It was the main thouroughway of the city, it's largest road and the most valuable to a takeover. The tiny streets would only lead to house-by-house fighting - and with the Republic's limited resources would play into the defending forces' favour. The main attack, if it came, would be squarely on taking the national and primary roads in and out of Vedrarfjord.


Vedrarfjord Hinterland
East of Vedrarfjord

Colin MacGrath was the unlucky soldier of the day, a young man on the front lines he was almost frozen with anxiety. It was almost noon soon and the day was a cold one. No snow, but it was only going to get colder as the sun set - which would be in only 4 hours. Colin expected the fighting would last at least 24 hours. The battle had erupted since before dawn, with the landing of shells from the Republicans' artillery. Colin saw the Ivernish Air Force roar over his head in an attack on the artillery - and had attempted to sweep the hills where they were nestled - but they were repelled by Republican anti aircraft machinery. Jets were far more valuable than men and so they were called back until the Republican air defences had been reduced drastically or better yet routed completely.

So it was up to tanks and troops. Colin edged closer all the time with his men as steadily as they could, but over 100 tanks were moving through the fields. With small farms, long stone walls trees sparsely dotted about the land, this was once a picturesque scene and in October would be lush with ambers, reds and golds from the flora settling down for the winter. Colin was from this part of the world and had never seen it like this. It was brazen, ashen and seared. Small farmhouses knocked to pieces by tankfire for filled with hiding, quivering soldiers laying low. Stone walls once marking off Ivernia's farming lands broken and scattered as it provided cover for the soldiers. The amber leaves all gone, with many trees burned out or burning still. This battlefield was destroying all that was simple and pure of Ivernia. The farmers all gone, the townships burned to cinder and the communities destroyed.

Heavy armour lines were constantly moving about this countyland firing upon one another as the troops attempted to advance on each other. Colin and his men were told that in order to push the republicans back they needed to take out the anti-aircraft machinery in the hillsides, but that was miles away. The Milesia Republic had gone all out - clearly it was the full force of the rebels. The young Private was afraid they would buckle under the pressure before sunset, the fighting might end up in Vedrarfjord after all.

 

[Ivernia]

31st October, 1AM
Adelbert's Square
Liberated City of Vedrarfjord
High Kingdom of Ivernia

Lying in a makeshift medical tent in Adelbert Square was Private Colin MacGrath. A park, mostly grass and lazy autumn trees - of course all of those memories are long gone. Trees cut down for firewood in the siege. Trenches dug in the occupation. Dead soldiers littering the park from the attack. Dark and freezing rain lashing down so hard it made Colin's face hurt. He was so cold he was going numb, or maybe it was the wound. Imperial forces were knocked back all the way into Vedrarfjord by the Republicans. He looked over to Fionn. Fionn had a bad gash across his legs from shrapnel. ''It's amazing how we're still alive I guess'' Fionn said, or rather roared at Colin. The artillery was so close the men could barely hear each other. At least they had been patched up for now.

''It's amazing we aren't fuckin deaf man'' Colin retorted. Whatever anxiety Colin had was over. He got unlucky - but also very lucky, he got a spray from a machine gun but only one bullet actually entered him, in his leg, the rest just took a little chunk off of him. He was carried back to the city - but it appears the Republicans followed him back to the city too. The fighting had been so intense he was sure the medics would have to move again, but it was an exhausting effort. Shot or not there were a lot of soldiers in worse shape then him so he had to help with the move on crutches.

Vedrarfjord's city lights were going out one by one, then street by street as the battle was beginning to expand throughout the city. They were getting closer. The roar of jet fighters briefly filled the air, before returning to the sound of artillery. Suddenly the medics were putting rifles in peoples hands.

''This ones for you Private. You've still got your arms and they're coming close'' One of the medics shouted at him. The medic handed him a battered-piece-of-shite rifle, nowhere near as good condition as the one Colin lost - before the medic loaded his own 9mm hand gun and took cover.

Fionn was given a deal similar to Colin in terms of armament and firepower. They both looked at each other for just a moment. They crawled over into one of the trenches closest to them and tried to align their sights on the gate that enters Adelbert's Square. Colin loaded his rifle and pooled his ammo with Fionn. ''Not too bad we have a bit here.'' Fionn said to Colin. Colin pointed out at their dead comrades, ''you can thank them dying that we got their ammo.'' The two men went silent as they aligned their rifles. Colin focused the ironsights on the gate. He was surprised - the gun looked like a rusty piece of shit, but the action while he loaded it seemed almost smooth, with only a bit of rattle.

Several Imperial soldiers came around the medic tent and settled into the trenches, along with a Sergeant - obviously coming to help repel this attack. It was a huge relief for the wounded soldiers, but by no means were they out of the woods.

''READY'' The Sergeant bellowed, close to the middle and all the soldiers readied themselves. In a moment other soldiers had begun to appear from the very far side - right by the entrance gates - ''FIRE FIRE FIRE'' the Sergeant bellowed. A volley of fire began, but only a few seconds later it ceased - all the men were terrified of losing ammunition. One Republican was clipped and brought down. The rest took cover around the rubble of a broken obelisk and a fountain. Fire was exchanged but in the pouring rain it was hard to get a clear shot.

Colin began to feel his leg. He focused on his sights to forget it - saw a shoulder - and shot at it. He saw the shoulder disappear, but not before a burst of blood came out of it. ''A tricky shot but I fuckin got him'' He shouted towards Fionn - but Fionn couldn't hear him for all the rain and gunfire. Suddenly a new sound was heard. A rumbling.

''TANK'' Roared the Sergeant. A Paladin Class tank burst though one of the marble gate posts and rolled into Adelbert Park. Colin couldn't believe it - a huge powerful tank, heavy on the defence - that Colin was sure the Republican's didn't have their hands on. Then he saw the side profile, where the Emerald Eagle of Ivernia was once emblazoned, they had crudely painted a white blotch, supposedly a white dove, over it. Stolen. Stolen like the lives of his comrades, stolen like Milesia's prosperity, it's stability and it's peace. Colin felt a rage inside of him, but he couldn't act. He was an injured man and his only option was to flee. The other soldiers fought valiantly, one even managed to land a grenade on top of the tank - with a metallic explosion like a sledgehammer on a radiator. The tank began to roll over the trenches and Imperial Soldiers screamed as they couldn't get away in time. Colin and Fionn decided not to indulge themselves in the same fate - rather to link arms, and with two working legs between them they would hobble away into the darkness.

Colin looked back for a moment, the Paladin aimed it cannon directly at the medic tent and shot. The tent went up in a flume of dirt and mud and fire and noise and more of his comrades were dead. He looked forward and Fionn was dead. Shot in the action. Colin fell prone and crawled as far and as long as he could.

Thankfully for his circumstances, more Imperials came in to the park and attacked the tank. Some such soldiers had the good sense to bring personal tank-busters along with them. As Colin managed to get far enough away, through the dirt and the mud, he was able to stop to rest his leg. Clutching his rifle to his chest he heard six buster shots in quick succession. Heavy explosive, armour piercing shots from such close range were likely to do such damage to tear even a Paladin class asunder. Suddenly Colin heard cheering, and hoped it was the end of the horror. He would not know though. The rain and cold overcame the man. He fell unconscious on the muddy ground.

 

[Ivernia]

Samhain, November 1st
Grand Canal Dock
Liberated City of Vedrarfjord
High Kingdom of Ivernia


Private Colin MacGrath awoke in a terrible daze, ache encirculating every part of his body. Yet Colin could not believe his good fortune. He had survived, clearly, against all the odds put against him. As his eyes re-adjusted he began to recognise where he was, he was in Grand Canal Dock - the fancy part of town - and that meant he was still in Vedrarfjord. A line of beds as far as the young Private could see in organised rows all along the Dock and the Quays, it was incredible how many wounded and injured there were. But in Colin's eyes there was no more beautiful day he had ever seen. The grey skies so comforting and familiar, the cold was so refreshing and real - and whatever was in his IV was certainly making him feel better about his gunshot wound in his leg.

A medic doing rounds made his way past Colin's bed and did a double take - he checked his chart. ''Ah Private... MacGrath? Hello I'm your Doctor, Doctor Moore. I'm from the Misericordia Hospital. I'm glad to see you are awake it was rather touch and go when the soldiers brought you in.''

MacGrath's elation at being alive was beginning to subside. He started to feel cold, tired. His leg began to hurt. He had so many questions he began to feel confused. ''Who brought me in? What happened last night? Did we... Who won?'' Colin's last question was certainly a little on the nose, but the Doctor appeared unfazed - he had clearly been answering that question all morning to the wounded men.

''I don't know who brought you in, just some of your comrades. You were brought in about 3am, unconscious from blood loss, and stress, exhaustion, any combination. They said you were a front liner brought all the way back to here - I'm amazed you fought for so long at all. As for who... ''won'' well that's a good question. The Republicans stormed Vedrarfjord as you know, but their back lines were hit with tremendous force by a combined artillery and air force attack. Eventually they ran out of men, ammo and resolve. Since dawn they've been completely pushed out of the city.''

The Medic said it with little emotion, whether it was from saying it so many times that morning, or whether he was or was not genuinely pleased to see the Republicans knocked out of Vedrarfjord was hard for Colin to tell. But Colin was in no position to tell, or care, one way or the other. As far as he was concerned he had done his job, and his home city was still the High Kingdom of Ivernia. He noticed the medic was still checking his charts in front of him.

''I'm afraid the hospital is full of your fellow soldiers, so you'll have to resume treatment here. Don't worry some of the men are putting up a big tent around you now so you'll have some shelter before the sun sets. A priest will be around too - it is Samhain after all. Also Nuada Airgetlám will be visiting the men, he'll likely want to meet you as well Private MacGrath. A great honour I'm sure.''

Colin couldn't believe it.

''Just try to get some rest until then ok? I have to check on the next patient.'' Doctor Moore moved on to the next soldier after that.

A priest came round with a small entourage of other holy men and began anointing the soldiers. Some had burning essence swinging, filling the air with a nostalgic scent. Colin reminisced to his childhood. In Church on Samhain with his family, counting the blessings and praising the Solar Cross, by creating a mighty bonfire. Lighting the Fourth Fire of the Celtic Calendar. Imbolc, Bealtaine, Lughnasadh had all passed under warfare, but Samhain had stopped the fighting - at least for the moment. As the priests did their officiations some of the younger men began to cry - overwhelmed by emotions. Colin remembered all the men who died with him. Fionn was the last of his friends to die in that battle with him. Colin felt like weeping along with the others, but he didn't even have the strength in him to do it. Instead he lay back in his bed, closed his eyes, and just let the scents and the payer wash over him. If he kept himself very still he could almost see his parochial church, and he was at peace again.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Lowport
October 28


Granche had awoken after two days in a dingy cellar. As he looked up at the ceiling, dust would fall with every nearby explosion. An anti-tank round had bit the wall and brick had beaten his leg before another hit him in the head. The floor had partially collapsed in the next few moments sending him down two floors to land on top of a soldier's pack. Over two weeks later his body still ached. Promoted to Captain, Granche found himself in a square inspecting the company which had been grievously thinned. The night before he had attended a staff meeting. General Gramelski was furious. Relief had been anxiously awaited but none had come. Lowport was now being called the Post of Death by the men and morale varied by company and even by platoon. The Ivernish soldiers, whom the Burgundians had initially treated with disdain and a view of inability was slowly shifting. They had begun to fight with equal ferocity. Gramelski had promised in the staff meeting to give it 2 more weeks, if possible. If no relief came he would order a breakout attempt after sabotaging the port facilities. Granche observed that not one man flinched at this proposal. It was only yesterday that he had seen the first glimmers of enemy armor. A tank had rolled up a street of ruined shops and had blasted an Imperial Ivernish position. Granche watched two Burgundian commandos sneak upon the tank and set explosives to the rear. Its turret was blown clean off. None survived that blast. Lowport was holding but just barely. Many points were unmanned or were only manned by wounded and what rear echelon personnel could be found. Even headquarters had taken up positions to parry against an attack. Gramelski had supposedly been seen calmly standing above a rifleman pointing out targets as bullets whizzed around. The Battle for Lowport was becoming dangerously close to a real medieval siege.

 

[Ivernia]

November 6th
Provisional Parliamentary House
Waesfjord
Self-Proclaimed Republic of Milesia

Waesfjord hadn't been this quiet in months. The Ivernish Air Forces had stopped their bombing circuits since the Battle of Samhain and had not continued. But the President, John Holt was not content. He was not calm - this silence was not one of peace, but rather of death.

The Battle of Samhain had been a crushing defeat for the Republic. A final push to retake Vedrarfjord, the only way they would be able to take it and have a chance to hold it was by taking advantage of the holy day of Samhain and they had failed. Their men were too tired, improperly trained and malnourished. Their weapons and armour was in desperate need of repair. Their air defences too far spread apart and too low on ammunition. It was such a defeat that many men had started to flee. It was such an act upon the hearts and minds of the religious Milesians - that many have started to heed the Churches call and flee to Nemedia. Claims of ''religious persecution'' from Caladbolg drumming up support from the provinces. It was a disaster.

The bombing had stopped because the High Kingdom thought it was all over.

President Holt stood in the Provisional Parliament in Waesfjord and stared out a long window, high up looking over much of Waesfjord. With the bombings ceased he could finally stand near a window and look out. With all of the glass missing he could feel the cold November air on his face. It would begin to snow soon. All of the harvest should have been done. How much food does the Republic have? Will he cause a famine?

His Minster for War, Seamus Brog, was damn near the last man who had any control over his Department in Milesia. Seamus approached his President with a heavy heart. John turned his back to Waesfjord and faced his old friend. ''What of the report? Tell me Seamus.''

Seamus put the report down on a table, his hand hesitating over the documents, as if longing them to not be so.

''It seems, President, that with our current position, if we do not enter talks with the Empire before Christmas, we are unlikely to have a functioning Government by the end of January. The Republic would cease to exist before Imbolc.''

All of John's worst fears. He felt a crushing inside, alike failure, no, it was failure. Seamus continued;

''We have lost so many of our forces, and our militias, that we are losing control of the countryside. Waesfjord is still until Republic control - but only just. Thanks to the efforts of Bourgogne forces in Milesia we have as of yet failed to secure Lowport or establish control in East Milesia. In fact Lowport has seen so much destruction any victory will be Pyrrhic at best - and quickly retaken by the Imperial Army at worst. Not to mention the Ivernish Imperial Army is on the move, heading to Lowport now as we can no longer check them in the fields at all.''

John interjected, - ''But what of Formoria, they promised support? Samhain has long since passed with nary a word!'' Seamus and John both looked to the third Minister in the room, the Minister for Foreign Affairs. ''Mr. Walder, what of our communiques?''

Walder was in the back of the room, and approached the two men. He had already seen the report, so spoke directly to the President.

''Formoria was foolishly relying on an influx of reinforcements, weapons, all manner of assistance, from southern socialist states. Carentania, Auraria, all declared support, and we managed to create some avenues for armament. Unfortunately nothing substantial though came through - and not enough, in the Formorian's eyes, to ally with our Republic. Nuada struck a deal and now that it's winter.. it is unlikely Formoria will fight it's own source of food. In order to wage a war across a winter, Formoria would have needed the farming lands secured before Samhain.''

Walder pulled a communique out from his coat while he spoke.

''On that note, all communiques from Caledonia have dried up too. It seems our benefactors have all pulled out.''

John Holt could barely process the information, his temper was clearly rising. ''I'll be damned. Seamus tell me, what is your suggestion?''

Seamus' face fell, not just for the Republic, but for his friend. ''With all due respect sir, as I said, we must begin talks with Caladbolg. We've lost a lot of people, if we do not stop fighting over the winter, we could end up with major food shortages. Many people could die. Perhaps an armistice, in exchange for much needed supplies?''

''Absolutely not. Nuada has tried to kill me too many times for me to just walk into a room with him and beg him for food!'' Holt spat back at Seamus. The President then turned to his Foreign Affairs minister.

''What is it you've got there? A communique? I thought you said Caledonia went silent?''

Walder handed the communique to Holt. ''It's not from Caledonia. It's from the Kingdom of Ostveg.''

''You intercepted this from Caladbolg?''

''No, it was sent to the Republic. Sent to you, John. See there.''

The President read the letter. ''Now? What could this mean? Why now, after our defeat?’’

Walder appeared nervous about the letter. ''Not to mention, President, that Ostveg was a staunch ally of the High Kingdom in the Tripartite Agreement. This is a most unusual turn of events.’’

''And it could also be a trap!’’ Shouted Seamus Brog. ''John, we don’t know how Ostveg feels about Nuada Airgetlam and Claíomh Solais' rule. They could be currying favour with the new ruler, by bringing you outside of Waesfjord!’’

''Agreed’’ Stated John briskly. ''But we have no other option - the war that we face alone is a bitter and bloody one. We have to investigate all avenues of assistance in any form. But who to send? Walder, you’ll have to go as our Foreign Affairs Minister, is this something you can take care of?’’

Walder seemed assured in his mission. ''I’m satisfied I can handle it. I have a way of getting into the Free Cities. From there I can charter a ship to Ostveg. I’ll communique them back from the Free Cities letting them know I am on the way. It should only take a few days’’

John was impressed. Few men were so able to work around the systems and intelligence barriers the High Kingdom had raised in the war. Walder said that he served under Nuada in the military in the Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth once, and he knew how the man thought. He had become invaluable to the Republican war effort.

''Be sure to bring some men with you, and try to arrange an escape plan if you need one, I’m counting on you Walder.’’

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Lowport
November 6


The winds of November had brought on the cold like a freight train. Granche could feel it in his bones; a deep soreness. The rebels had set artillery upon the city for days, condemning the city to a pile of rubble. Only a few sections seemed untouched and a few more seemed to avoid most of the damage. Squares and intersections had become killing fields and cellars became a refuge. The half bombed out school was now the center of the company's position. The remaining heavy machine guns had been pulled to the rear so Granche was left with only a handful of light machine guns. Daily the situation became more desperate as the noose squeezed tighter and supplies dwindled. Food was becoming a concern and houses were raided for cans of food as barley soup became the mainstay for the soldiers. Morale was somehow growing and Granche did not know why exactly. In any case, they had repelled two armor attacks in the last 72 hours but there was no longer any anti-tank weapons aside from Molotovs. They had blown buildings to build tank barricades in the night before so today they were confident they would only face infantry. The Regimental priest had visited the day before, offering comfort to the men interested. Granche did not care for comfort. All he hoped for was a breakout. Relief would only prolong their stay in the miserable rat hole.

 

[Ivernia]

November 16th
Kristiania
Kingdom of @

You must be registered for see links

Walder had finally made it to Kristiania in the Kingdom of Østveg. It had taken much longer than he had anticipated, but with heavy snows the entire way across Ivernia travel had been greatly impeded. Winter had come in full force and November had been especially cold for the High Kingdom. Walder had another reason for his slow travel - many of the Republican connections he had made outside of Milesia had disappeared. Many of his contacts, sensing the end of the Republic, were no longer offering support to Walder. Less safe houses, less transport options and less resources made this trip a rather harrowing one to avoid Ivernish Gardaí along the way.

None the less, the Minister of Foreign Affairs managed to cross the border into the Free Cities - and from there it was an easy trip for himself and his entourage of guards to traverse the Gothic Sea and enter the Nordic Kingdom.

Walder had been to Kristiania before of course, years and years before back when he was a soldier in the Ivernish Imperial Army, and it was how he remembered it. Shinier, cleaner and more bustling than Royal City Caladbolg to be sure. Although by now the divide had only increased, as the war had done Ivernia no favours in respect of the integrity and former beauty of it's cities.

This was no holiday however, and the men knew it. Walder addressed the leader of his guards, a Captain Sean Burke. ''Burke, there is a café about three streets down to the left, that is where we are heading.'' Walder pointed down the street, but kept his voice very low - speaking Ivernish on a street in Kristiania was something to be done discreetly. Drawing attention to themselves in any manner could be the end of them. Walder could speak German - as the de facto lingua franca of the Gothic Sea and Germania any Minister of Foreign Affairs would need to - but his Guards could hardly claim a level of fluency in it to compare to Walder's ability.

''Once we are there I will get us a room in the inn on the upper floors of the building. I know the man who lives there, I stayed with him before, years back. Once we are there - I will seek the persons who arranged this communique. If we are lucky they will find us, and we can meet quickly. The sooner I can return to Vedrarfjord the better.''

Burke looked down the street and rubbed his unshaven face. It was cold in Kristiania, perhaps even as cold as Ivernia. Long journeyed and hungry, each compounded to feel twice as harsh. ''Indeed Minister. I have a ill feeling of this winter. The sooner we are back in Milesia the better. For now though we should get cleaned and shaven. We are in no condition to meet the Austwegians. It has been a long journey, the men need R&R.''

Walder agreed as they headed towards their safehouse. Now all he would need to do is wait and yet he was completely at unease. Outside of Milesia he was blind to the happenings of the Republic, he only hoped his leaders would forgive him this delay and absence. He believed that being here with the Austwegians could be a meeting of great importance, so much so as perhaps even to influence the war. A war Walder had thought lost.

 

[Hanseatic Republics]

Kristiania, Kingdom of Østveg

Austwegian Boarder Patrol were attempting to detect the incoming and outgoing of Ivernians. It was always best when they arrived with a passport. These Ivernians were easy to process, and required to check in at any port of entry every twenty days. Those that failed, if found, would be searched for and placed in a refugee camp. What to do with this refugees wasn't understood. The number wasn't very high though, as this kind of punishment was well described upon entry. In fact, only twelve people existed in this specific camp.

Those who didn't come with a passport came for one reason only, asylum. The Austwegian Government would register them, and house them on old ships if they declared they desired asylum. The ships were damp, they were cold. Wool blankets and old donated clothes were provided for by authorities, but they were more a necessity than something of luxury. Food was plentiful, with these cargo city ships being so close to the harbor and the plentiful amounts of fish.

These asylum cases were made with the expectation it would be permanent; however, applicants did not get to choose their destination. Ivernians once formally processed would understand this quickly, as they'd usually be placed in a remote locale and separated from other Ivernians. These Ivernians were the lucky few and traditionally were families with children. Only families could stay together.

The vast majority once processed would be placed upon a new short term home, either Her Majesty's Austwegian Ship, Aurora or Sverdfisk.

The HMS Aurora would then sail for Nordmarka. HMS Sverdfisk would go to Fey. Most Ivernians would end up upon the Aurora at some point of their journey. The entire time, they'd only be spoken to in Austwegian, and the transition would not easy for those not versed in language. Yet most Ivernians who came, desired a new life and began their rigorous schooling in Austwegian language skills aboard the ships. Nordmarka was an icebox. Yet it had plentiful amounts of land, albeit frosty land. Away from the coast, the land being nothing but covered in ice.

The only way for Walder and his crew to arrive without trouble and expectation of asylum was with a passport, which they did. Yet this was also unusual at this point of the war. Tourism and such, was not a common desire, and understandably, they were secretly trailed by the new Austwegian Intelligence Service.

Following them to the cafe, they inadvertently gave up their safe haven, but it seemed naturally what Walder desired. Two men and a woman would visit them at an odd hour, of just prior to midnight. Cigarette behind his ear, he asked several question to the Ivernians, identifying who was in charge and figuring out what business they actually had in Østveg. Each of them were escorted to a series of luxury vehicles, were they were driven through the night. The drive was long, and they were assumed to have fallen asleep. Together, they arrived as a ski resort in the middle of nowhere, Kivtfjell. It had a few other Nords enjoying the slopes early in the morning, but nothing too spectacular in number. Their watches should have read 11 in the morning, if they were set to local time. The sun was low, but bright enough to illuminate the slopes of the mountains.

Here the vehicles stopped. Walder and his crew were reunited and escorted to a vehicle more primed for traveling in snow. Before entering they were made to relinquish any possible weaponry as each person was searched. The man with the cigarette still behind his ear suggesting it was for the safety of all participants. The woman from the previous night apologized for the long journey, suggesting that she hoped they'd managed to sleep for some duration of it. She looked a bit tired herself.

Visual Aids:
(

You must be registered for see links

)
(

You must be registered for see links

)

Entering the snowmobile, and traveling for what seemed at least fifteen minutes, they stopped beside a lodge as isolated as can be. Walder and his crew were brought inside where they saw three woman sitting beside a fireplace. The room also had several men standing in snowtrooper army gear near the door. If anyone was good with faces they should have recognized the Queen of Østveg herself.

They were escorted to a table by the fireplace with the women, and in front of them there were hot coffee in mugs already prepared for them. Small pitchers of milk and small sugar cups with spoons next to each mug. The chairs were wooden, offering little padding, but fit the decor of the room. A basket of bread and butter was also in the center of the table.

The women at the seated seemed well-dressed and quite proper. They held themselves with a certain upbeat kind of demeanor though. As Walder's team came to be noticed by the women, once of them stood up and introduced herself to Walder. "Hello, I am Inger Lise. I hope your journey was kind. Mister...?"

[MENTION=1187]Ivernia[/MENTION]

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Lowport
Nov 27

Gramelski smoked his pipe in long deliberate pulls. The city was now a hellscape, buildings utterly destroyed by enemy artillery. Air drops by the Ivernish Imperial Air Force has been the life blood of the dwindling defense who now held on by sheer will. Of the 4,236 men who came ashore of the 2 RVI regiments, 2,383 were either wounded or killed in action. It had been a grievous few weeks with the enemy gaining strength. Yet Gramelski had been informed that Imperial forces were seeing success and the rebel pressure meant that they had to break Lowport. If Gramelski held out it would mean the overall position weakened by day. Gramelski had looked intently at the map. The basement HQ had little light so he had to lean close. He was about to turn to one of his aids when he heard it. He cocked his head and listened again. Without a word he snatched his beret and ran up the steps two at a time. It was clear out and against the blue sky was a sight that made the normally reserved Gramelski drop his jaw. 50 bombers, half small and the other half massive streaked across the sky at 12,000 feet, their bomb doors open. The bombs began to fall. Gramelski and the staff watched as the bombs streaked down, falling onto the enemy controlled half of the city. Gramelski could see the escorts, flying high about the bombers. The staff stood in the middle of the rubble pile, speechless.

 

[Ivernia]

The Lodge
Close to Kivtfjell Ski Resort
Kingdom of @

You must be registered for see links

Walder's jaw almost dropped. ''Queen Kirstin of Østveg! My name is Mr. Walder, I am the Minister for Foreign Affairs of the Self-Proclaimed Milesia Republic. We are honored to make your acquaintance.'' His men nodded and agreed silently. This was truly a shock to the Ivernish group. Walder had believed that this willingness to meet with the Milesian Republic was simply a group within the Austwegian Government - but to think to meet the Queen. Walder was very curious. A man offered to take Walder's long black coat away from him - he almost refused him, but remembered he was in front of a Queen. With many pockets and many notes he felt unsure about giving it away - but he supposed he could be without it for a moment.

Captain MacFergus was Walder's bodyguard for this meeting. He has been loyal to the man ever since they met in Himyar when both the men served in the Commonwealth military services. He constantly scanned the room, seeing an incredibly well armed guard and a well protected Queen. He could understand the weapons checks now. He and his men were totally unarmed and completely at the mercy of these talks. He was worried about how he would protect Walder if this was indeed a trap. Although with the Queen of Østveg in front of him he almost couldn't believe this was real. He had seen her pictures in the Gaelic Papers back when Ostveg went through a crisis. There was little he and his men could do but listen to Walder speak with the Queen.

''Your Grace, I am most surprised to find you in this lodge I must admit.'' Walder continued. ''I will not assume to believe yet that your presence here necessarily means your support for our fledgling Republic, rather, perhaps your willingness to listen to the cause of the Milesian Republicans and the White Dove Movement? If that is the case I am happy to say I am more then capable of expressing such a cause. I have been with the Milesian Republic almost since it's inception. Beyond my official capacities I am an advisor to President John Holt, and the Minister for War, Seamus Brog, considers me a close and personal friend from even before the War of Secession.''

 

[Hanseatic Republics]

The Lodge
Close to Kivtfjell Ski Resort
Kingdom of Østveg

Inger Lise smiled. She felt that the man called Walder was quite formal, and with their short interesting history she found that him being receptive of her was kind. She was a Monarch, and was unsure how he felt about them. He never gave her anything beyond his formal name, but perhaps that was custom there. The three women that Walder and his men saw were considerably young. It was a new government in comparison to most countries that had centuries old systems in place, so the relative youth in addition to the surprise election of a female Chancellor created a government which had an oddly high number of women in power compared to the rest of Europe.

"Please, please call me Inger Lise. I do not require such respect, even as a Queen. I am of course here to listen and understand your movement, but Kristin here shall organize whatever understanding we come to." Kristin was the Foreign Minister, but the Austwegians weren't keen on titles, and generally speaking unless asked, nobody would probably ever know who was what. In fact the other woman hadn't even been introduced yet.

Kristin nodded, as Queen Inger Lise continued. "I quite sure your John and Seamus have the utmost respect in your abilities and I shall extent to you that same recognition. It's quite an accomplishment to arrive here safely, and I was not so sure anyone would respond to our inquiry at all. ...Kristin?"

Kristin cleared her throat slightly before she spoke for the first time, "Yes, yes... um, you see it was our general feeling that if a representative could not find their way here, then surely the movement was not worth looking into. So you do have our full attention in this regard."

Inger Lise moved back to her chair, and spoke again, "I hope our hospitality isn't too poor. There are not too many options for refreshments this far out in the country. If you need anything specific, I'm quite sure my staff can find it though. Don't be shy. Anyhow, no sense in keeping you waiting. I'll stay silent while Kristin and yourself get to business. I'm simply here to observe and really didn't think I'd be noticed." She giggled slightly.

Kristin decided to get things moving quickly. "Yes, so I'm quite curious in what you have to say. It is the opinion of this Government that your cause may be worth investing in. Depending on how our talks go, depends on what what I am allowed to commit. Unfortunately the Chancellor herself could not make this meeting, so the responsibility falls to me in this regard. So you have some kind of place to begin, I would say that I'd like to know why you might think Østveg should support your movement rather than what was once a friend of sort for us. But by all means, please tell me much more than just that. I'm keen to learn."



OOC { [MENTION=1187]Ivernia[/MENTION]

A mix up in names and characters. That's my fault for not being clear. The Queen is Inger Lise, Kristin is the Foreign Minister. I'll edit my initial post so that it doesn't seem off-beat and confusing. You'll just have to change the name of the Queen in your post.
}