The White Dove and the Emerald Eagle

[Kadikistani Union]

Outskirts of Lowport
7 kilometres south-west of Lowport
High Kingdom of Ivernia

The 'Kadikistani Volunteer Force' had not even reached the battle, but already sustained several casualties. The first ones where the result of carefully placed mines, clearly meant to damage the Kadikistani force. This slowed down the march since mine-sweeps became necessary, but it also meant that the enemy was aware of their presence. Who discovered them remained unknown and irrelevant, but it did disturb General Berbadjov greatly. He hoped that the poor communications would ensure that he still had time to surprise the enemy forces in Lowport. That element would very likely prove crucial if his forces would break the relative stalemate in the city. The casualties of the mines remained limited to 17 soldiers, because Berbadjov acted quickly in ordering minesweepers to scout the ground with metal detectors and trained rats. Most casualties fell in the flanks due to a lack of metal detectors and rapid loss of trained rats. The damage inflicted by the forest fires was limited since the cold and hard Ivernian winter was not ideal for such endeavours.

Things became more dramatic for Berbadjov's Expeditionary Force when the two Burgundian aircraft cut themselves a way through the first Kadikistani column. The 'First Spear Brigade' was quick to return fire and bring down the two assailants, but not before it had the time to slaughter over 40 'revolutionary soldiers', wounding many others. Berbadjov, himself being part of the first column, witnessed the last plane going down and noticed that one of the pilots had managed to escape. It was clear that the Burgundian survivor would land not that far from their position. "Lieutenant Drevik!", Berbadjov roared, "Get a platoon together and capture that pilot alive. Do not let him escape and tell the enemy our location! When you catch him you will arrange that coward a 6 hour session with Sgt. Gurvan together with one of our local translators. I want to know what he knows, enemy positions, strength, weakpoints,... If he does not talk within that session, shoot him." Berbadjov had no doubt that Sgt. Gurvan would make the unknown attacker talk within 6 hours, he mostly needed less.

"Our scouts have reportedly reached the north-western suburbs of the city. They will contact the republican forces there and notify them of our arrival. They are to ensure us passage so we can launch a new assault on the centre. We will set up a temporary base camp and field hospital here where the remaining forest will provide us some cover. For now we will concentrate most of our AA capability around here. Once we have taken the city centre we will set up a more permanent base of action." Given the latest aerial attack Berbadjov knew he had to make haste. The last of the division was landing, but still had some ground to cover before it would reach the borders of Lowport. If they hadn't been discovered Berbadjov would have probably waited until they where at their full strength before joining the siege of Lowport, but they didn't have the time. To divert hostile attention the division had splintered taking remotely different routes toward Lowport. Berbadjov made a harsh choice, "We need to speed up! Discontinue the sweeps for all column still on route, order 42.". The General's officers instantly knew what that meant. One line of dispersed Kadikistani troops would be ordered to take the lead at a safe distance from the rest of the columns and from each other. That way any more mines would be forcefully detonated killing only one soldiers, in stead of potentially killing dozens. It safe to say that tactic wasn't very popular among the men, but it was less safe to say anything against it.

As their strength would gradually grow the first battalions where infiltrating the republican controlled city suburbs from the north-west. Once they gathered and organised a sufficient amount of troops they would make the 'First Spear' be known. The twenty small artillery pieces where placed a little further from away the city with the entire area still in range. The artillery would wait in cover along with the vanguard in the suburbs until they where organised and ready for a full offensive of fresh soldiers with some of the most modern arms the Kadikistani Army had to offer. Indeed it would be no secret where these men originated from, but all Kadikistan would respond is that it "can not control the will of free people to aid the noble republican cause."

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Athlag Airbase, Ivernia

"We got a bit of their radio comms but it makes no sense to us" said the junior officer. Colonel Villiers contored his mouth in disdain. As the duty officer for the airbase that week, he was expected to be the defacto commanding officer. He retained much lee-way. "Are we positive they went down?" he asked. The junior officer shrugged. "We followed protocol, they've not landed at any other airbase". Villiers nodded. "Let us send two Golden Eagles* along that flight path. Inform them they are not to engage any targets. I want those aircraft found. Inform Cagteyn air base and have them prepare a rescue chopper just in case".

Near Lowport

The kick was sharp to the ribs, adding more mud to the mustard brown colored flight suit. Schultz winced in pain as he curled into a fetal position, the blows thumping all over his body. He first got knocked about by releasing from the parachute which had become tangled in trees. The fall to the wet and soggy ground could have been worse. He had considered that the winter had been harsh and a frozen ground might have left him with broken bones. Another kick, this one to the groin, made him vomit. Another one, a punch to the back of his head as he sat on all fours vomiting. The punch was so harsh he nearly went face first into his own vomit. Suddenly the blows stopped as what he assumed was a sergeant, with a great barrel chest, approached, speaking in what Schultz recognized as slavic in nature. His head was ringing so he could not be sure. With a single arm, the sergeant pulled the dazed and muddy pilot to his feet, taking the survival knife and throwing it into a bush. A lowly soldier chased after it. The sergeant pulled his wallet and compared the photo and quietly pocketed the money without so much as a word. It was then that Schultz realized how bad the man's breath stunk. He wasnt even talking and it was utterly foul. The sergeant pulled a picture of Schultz's daughter, Amelia, from the wallet. He gave it a quick glance before looking back at Rudolf's face. The sergeant read the pilots eyes and understood, tucking the photo back into Schultz's pocket; the sergeant still silent. Schultz felt a trickle of blood run down the back of his neck. The punch to his head must have cut his scalp. The sergeant, satisfied he had no weapon and that their were enough of his compatriots around motioned that Schultz could take his arms down. Suddenly the pilot saw what he could only guess was an officer approach. The sergeant handed over the wallet and his identity disks. Schultz motioned to both of them that he would like some water. The two stood in silence with no response.


Lowport

"What do you got?" Granche said after sliding into a slit trench. "The rebels have been quiet for awhile now but they just tried testing our lines" said a corporal who was ducked down. "They hit us with a few mortars this morning. A few armored cars tried moving in but got stuck behind rubble from that bombed out boxing gym. We called in a few aircraft and they got hit with rockets. That boxing gym got totally destroyed though" said the corporal who proceeded, much to Granche's disgust, to piss in the bottom of the trench. "Keep a sharp eye" Granche said. It had become quiet throughout the city. Even General Gramelski was confused. True, a few Imperial Ivernish troops slipped into the city but the Imperial Army was still not closing in on the rebels that fast. "I want you to alert me of any changes" Granche said as he hefted himself out of the piss filled trench.










*Fiat G91's

 

[Dalriada]

Ivernia Coast 22/02/1956
The SS0s had spent the last couple of days moving along the coastline watching and tracking the Kadikistani movements, the technicians on the MMC was relying it to GH19 who then give it to Ivernia military command. They started to pack up since they thought they were going to be picked up by a U-boat but again to there disappoint they had another job to do.

The U-Boat couldn't land ashore since the water was too shallow so they had sent 3 rowing boats, Lieutenant Griffins was looking to forward to going home so he had shock when the The 1st BR landed.

"What happening?" He asked annoyed, most of the 1st BR ignored him untill an officer answered,
the 1st BR Officer saluted "Captain Geralt Jernigan of the 1st Border Rifle, we've got new orders, we're going commie hunting and you're going to Lowport"

Near Lowport
There were column Kadikistani troops walking slowing on the back road leading through the woods, a line of troops was unlucky chosen by having their names pick out a hat to walk ahead of the group to detonate any mines. As you could tell it wasn't a very popular way of minesweeping

About 20 members of the 1st BR had set up a trap on the road, they know they were outnumbered and gunned but they had the moment of surprise as their main weapon

"Sir we got enemies coming our way shall we set off the trap?" a rifleman asked the Officer
"Yes but you fire on my order" Ordered the Officer

One of the troop from the leading line run up to his commanding officer.

"We haven't step on a mine on this road yet, sir shall we continue into normal formation?" the trooper ask the Kadisikanti

"No don't be stupid-" the officer was going to finish his sentence until he heard the sound of something rolling down the forest.

CRASH
"What the fuck?"
A tractor on fire come out of left side of the woods and crashed into the leading line of troops.

"Sir what's going on?" the trooper asked his commanding officer

BANG!
A bullet went straight through the troops neck and sprayed blood over the officer's face, then suddenly like hell's gates opened a fury of bullets come flying out from both sides of the woods cutting into the column.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The bullets teared into the column and troops were dropping to the ground like flies,it sounded like machine gun fire but the bullets were too accurate , the gunfire was hitting heads and necks not randomly speared.

"Get into to cover!" the officer screamed to the troops
He order his radioman to tell the rest of the army that the area seemed to have machine guns nests hidden in the forest

The 1st BR didn't have any machine guns on them but they were able to create the effect of rabid machine gun fire by having 5 men fire then another 5 men fire when they reloaded so they would be continuous fire. This was one most commonly used tactic by Cyrmu Military since they had small army and limited resources, their primary weapon were moke and mirrors.

As soon they had started firing into the column, a private who was protecting the rear had went up to the commanding officer.

"Sir we got enemies at our flanks" the private told him

"What do you mean? we are on their flanks" the private was sprayed by bullets before he could answer. "Shit the navigator must have lead us to the wrong column" he thought.

"Fall back! Fall back!" he screamed to his men, two were already dead as the Kadikistani main column bounded back from the ambush and started to send back machine fire into the woods, the men on the other side of the road were all killed in mere minutes.

They ran deeper into the forest,

"What's going on sir?" one of the men asked
"Someone misread the map and now we out numbered, out gunned"

the men turned to the private who had the map of the area tied around his neck, the men intensely jumped down his throat,the officer just pulled his gun out and shot the private.

"Listen there's eight well seven of us now,I did him a favour because we are going to die but there's one thing we're going to do. we going to dug deep, use every fiber of our being to be the biggest pain in the arse in the Kadikistani side that's means no running, just keep on shooting until you run out of bullets. Then when you do run out and they come in for kill get your knife use the hatred you got for those fucking commies and rip apart every bastards you see before you get shot down. They can kills us but we are going to be taken prisoner by them got it?!"

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Provisional Government House
Waesfjord
Western Milesia

The armed guards in front of the center of Milesian government seemed perplexed, uncertain what to do with the man who had just approached them. One of the Milesian soldiers was calling his superiors, while the other two nervously gestured the tall man wearing a spotless white suit and a fedora to wait. Not that he had given them any reason to panic. He was clearly unarmed and wasn't carrying a briefcase or anything else where he could have hidden a gun or explosives. The man had merely told them that he was with the People's Departement of Intelligence - the SWR's foreign intelligence agency - and requested a meeting with an official representative.

"Sir...?"

The soldier who had been on the phone for the last ten minutes turned to him, just as the Republican agent was lighting his cigarette.

"The President wants to see you."

For a second, his composure faded, the cigarette dropping from his mouth. Then he quickly regained it, hiding his surprise like any true professional, stomping the burning tobacco under his expensive leather shoes.

"Lead the way."

The President of Milesia, John Holt, had visibly suffered from the hardships of war. Compared to the man the PDI had briefed him on, this John Holt hadn't shaved in weeks, was visibly thinner, shadows under his eyes and a scar on his face. He seemed exhausted and was greeting the Republican agent without enthusiasm.

"An honor to meet you, Mr. President. Name's Andrew Smith, but don't bother, it's not my real name anyways."

'Andrew Smith' smiled as he shook the President's hand. The two were visibly contrasted. There was little doubt that the Republican agent had not been around for long. Properly dressed, cleanly shaven and well rested, he was not a man from a country at war with itself. He had not seen any battles or the hardships of survival in a warzone. His greatest problem had probably been to get into Milesia and that was likely something other people from his department had arranged for him.

"Now, a foreign agent visiting us can only mean one of two things. You are either here to pledge your government's support or you are not who you claim to be, but rather a double-agent hoping to harm our efforts."

"The first of the two. Kind of."

John Holt gestured him to sit down.

"As far as my government is concerned, the war is over. We can prolong the inevitable, but that will only lead to further suffering. The Kadikistanis are slowly taking over the Republican movement and it won't be long before they will attempt to weed out the opposition. And then the Ivernian government will crush them, using the Kadikistani influence as an excuse to repress any and all Republicans in the country. This is a sobering assesment of your situation, I realize that, but it may be better to plan your next steps from a realistic position.

President Winters has offered anyone in Milesia who requests it asylum in the World Republic. As we speak, a Republican fleet is on its way to the shores of Milesia, ready to take in as many Republicans as possible. Should you wish to end your fight, we will give you the option of retreat. In the SWR, you can gather your forces, recuperate and reorganize and maybe return to fight another day. The reactionaries will win, I'm afraid, and a winter will fall upon this entire country. But you may receive a chance to ensure that this coming winter will remain a short one."

President Holt didn't betray any emotion as agent 'Smith' spoke. The man looked as tired and beaten down as he had been when the man from the SWR entered.

"How can I be certain that this offer is real, that the fleet really exists and you are really from where you claim to be?"

"Watch the news from the SWR tomorrow. The President will adress the hard service of the Coast Guard in his speech. There has been no announcement this will be the subject of the speech and it will be a surprising topic for it to anyone but you, me and my department, and the President himself."

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Cruiser Pillau, just off the coast of Lowport
ou
Commodore Favier put his hand on Gramelski's shoulder. "This is the last of the supplies for some time" Favier said somberly. It was night and the air was cold. Favier commanded the squadron whose job it was to patrol the Lowport sector. The small flotilla was also their to evacuate the troops if need be; though both Favier and Gramelski knew that with the port damaged and the ice in the harbor, only small boats could ferry men and supplies. An evacuation by sea would take maybe an entire day. Gramelski nodded "we are grateful for the supplies" he said genuinely. The supplies they received were not that extraordinary or vast in quantity: 100 pounds of tea, 75 of coffee, 250 pounds of ships biscuit, 200 pounds of oatmeal, 2000 cigarettes, and only 430 rounds of rifle ammunition. Favier looked at Gramelski in the dim light of the bow watch. Soon he would be ferried back to Lowport. They watched in silence as a few shells exploded on the horizon; both hoping Burgundians had not been under them. "We've been ordered out to patrol. Changy apparently doesn't want us giving you support" Favier said shaking his head. "But" he began, turning to the General, "We can have the first destroyer on station in 8-10 hours to start evacuating" said the Commodore, hoping that Gramelski might at least consider it. The Commodore received no response. Gramelski had refused a hearty dinner, insisting he eat how his men did. He did accept a shower; one for which he was deeply grateful. Now he insisted on being outside in the cold to talk, the two standing alone on the bow. "Commodore, I know you do not have the facilities, but nor do we. I want to send over as many wounded as I can before daybreak. Get them the hell out of here" he said. The Commodore nodded. The storm was coming.


Lowport


Granche watched through a hole in the brick wall as a rain mixed with snow ate away at their warmth due to the roof collapsing days ago. Rebels were pushing hard and word had come through that the Imperial army was making a push. Word also came through that a rebel force of mercenaries were advancing on Lowport and had reached the suburbs as well. Only a fool would think that Bourgoge could hold out much longer. The city simply could not sustain the men and supplies were difficult to receive, even with airdrops. In the spring, ships might be able to enter the harbor again but Granche knew that the Battle for Lowport would be a battle that would end in the coming weeks, not the coming months. Evacuation, death, or capture. He understood, but his men didn't. Even if the Imperial troops reached them; Gramelski had ordered that the city be held at all costs. Demoralized, without much ammo, and frankly freezing their balls off; Granche knew the probability of victory was becoming dim. It was only a matter of time before the mercenaries reached Burgundian positions. He felt it in his soul- the fighting would be fierce, savage, and uncompromising.

 

[Kadikistani Union]

Féin County
164 kilometres north-east of Waesfjord
Kadikistani-occupied Milesia

It had been ten days since the Kadikistani Expeditionary Force landed on the southern shores of Ivernia. Ten days since Berbadjov's men stormed the beach and took over three county's that would serve as the first unofficial Kadikistani fall-out base. The foreign takeover was not unanimously welcomed by the natives, most of them scared that the arrival of their 'allies' would only prolong the conflict that had terrorized their lands for so long. While the two other county's, Dubra and Rulex, were coastal Féin was more inland and included to serve as a first line of defence should the enemy attempt to cut the supply lines to Rurikgrad going via Dubra and Rulex. Féin was also the county that resisted the most against the Kadikistani invasion, their major even blocking the entrance to the town hall upon their arrival as a clear show of defiance. An unruly population is something that the Kadikistani high command had anticipated. Like they have plenty of times in the past, the 'Kadikistani Volunteer Force' would pacify the locals with an iron first, using fear as a weapon to keep the population down.

The winter made the days very short in Ivernia, so it was already dark when around 4:30 pm several platoons joined up with the troops already stationed in Féin, split-off and started kicking in the doors of about 45% of the houses in the Féin town centre. Each platoon was reinforced by local collaborators who would serve as ambitious translators mimicking their Kadikistani comrades in the brutality of their words."In the name of the Milesian Republic, against the wall!". Houses were thoroughly searched and left rampaged. Alarmed by the commotion many natives came down to the street to see what was going on. Others, perhaps smarter, locked their doors and closed their shutters while remaining as silent as possible. Many people were panicking after witnessing the brutality of the Kadikistani forces who did not hesitate to use violence when someone stood in their way. The political commissars overseeing what can only be described as a purge looked closely to the reactions of the other people and especially the collaborators. From those reactions they would determine who is potentially guilty and who might be deemed disloyal.

A total of 58 men and women were pulled out of their houses or in some cases of the badly maintained streets. The Kadikistani soldiers were as anxious as they were brute in capturing the Féinians. When Kadikistani soldiers arrested the former major and his wife, pulling her out of the house by her hair as she was crying hysterically seeing her husband being brutally beaten, their two sons were just returning from the field. Without hesitation the two sons ran straight for their parents in an attempt to protect them. Sadly the Kadikistani's were very alert and several guards intercepted the running boys. "Take them too.", an older vicious looking political commissar ordered. There were 7 other cases of people trying to rescue or even just protect their friends or relatives, all of them resulted in making the list of 'counter-revolutionaries' even longer. All those captured were forced to march side-by-side into the forest escorted by a lines of Kadikistani soldiers on both sides. Meanwhile the troops that remained in the town centre ordered the remaining people, some screaming and crying while others remained silent in shock, to return to there houses. A curfew was proclaimed and the Féinians were advised to strictly follow orders from now on lest they be sent to 'Milesian People's Tribunals' like the locals that were just escorted out of town. Not many believed that these 'People's Tribunals' were real, but some did. Maybe because they needed to cling on to their hope that their friend or relative would someday return home.

Several kilometres away from the town centre the captured Féinians were forced to dig what the Kadikistani's claimed were 'trenches'. Once they finished their work, many of them crying or sobbing, the Kadikistani soldiers ordered them to sit on their knees facing the graves that they had just dug. But it would not be Kadikistani's who would seal the fate of these so-called 'counter-revolutionaries'. Several of the translators and some other Milesian collaborators were armed and ordered to show their loyalty and commitment by executing these 'enemies of the people'. The collaborators were carefully monitored to ensure that they would do their part. "Fire!" One by one the Milesian self-declared Marxist-Leninovists pulled the trigger, shooting their countrymen with a bang that echoed through the forest. Féin, a large but thinly populated county with under 500 inhabitants lost 67 souls that night. Instantly burned into their collective memory, it was a night the community would never forget. But not only they would suffer casualties, 7 of the collaborators had shown what the political commissars described as "conspicuous emotional activity" and were never seen again.

Outskirts of Lowport
7 kilometres south-west of Lowport
Kadikistani-occupied Milesia

The attack of the 1st BR was sudden, but not unexpected as the Kadikistani veteran soldiers were on edge ever since they faced the mines and noticed signs of an apparent attempt to burn the forest that provided them cover. The 'volunteers' where well-aware that their location was known among their enemies. The element of surprise utilized by the 20-or-so attackers did however managed to catch some Kadikistani troops of guard as they had counted on their flanks being covered. Somehow the 1st BR had managed to infiltrate the flanks without the guards noticing. This did however pose an opportunity for the Kadikistani forces to surround and destroy their unknown assailants. That was an opportunity that Brigadier General Bodan Taderdov, commander of the 36th 'Juggernaught' Brigade, wasn't ignoring. Himself not far from the attack he quickly communicated with his troops in the flank: "Main column under attack, close in on our positions. Surround the enemy in sector 3B-658, cut off any potential escape routes.".

The commanding officers in charge of guarding the flanks where quick to respond. They realized they had made a huge mistake by allowing no less then 20 enemy troops to pass them unnoticed and mount an offensive upon the main column. They realized that their careers, if not their lives, depended on how successful they would be right now in rectifying their preposterous mistake. The troops guarding the flanks manoeuvred themselves into position behind the 1st BR pinning the latter down between themselves and the Kadikistani main column. The main column was recovering from the initial surprise and had started massively returning fire. The 1st BR was completely surrounded and the Kadikistani veterans rained hell upon them with their automatic assault rifles under support by heavier machine guns, grenades and even a few mortars. It was clear that their enemy was well-organized and disciplined but they now faced overwhelming odds against a battle-hardened force with superior numbers, supplies and weapons coming from all sides. "This will be over soon... Alert General Berbadjov that our rear will arrive in Lowport with a slight delay."

Dain County
7 kilometres south-west of Lowport
Kadikistani-occupied Milesia

"His name is Shultz and he is a pilot with the Burgundian Air Force, that is all he's saying.", Sgt. Gurvan reported breathing heavily after exhausting himself trying to make his captive give him information about enemy positions and numbers. Wiping some sweat from his forehead after cleaning his bloody knuckles covered in Shultz's blood Gurvan continued his report to Lieutenant Drevik: "He is disciplined. I can make him talk, but it will take some time." Lieutenant Drevik had work enough securing the rear of the Expeditionary Force that stretched until the city suburbs. He understood Shultz's request for water, but chose to ignore it giving Shultz an arrogant little grin instead. "I do not have time for this Sergeant, the Comrade General will notice the enemies positions soon anyway. There will be plenty of less disciplined soldiers willing to talk in exchange for their freedom. Take him behind the tent and kill him, silently. We don't want to give away our position to potential enemy scouts in the area.". After releasing a large sigh Gurvan signed two of the guard to help Shultz stand up and drag him out of the tent. A few metres behind the tent Gurvan ordered the guards to drop the Burgundian pilot on the cold snowy ground. Schultz's head injury instantly spoiled the pure white snow with red drips of blood. On his knees and with two guards on both sides Shultz' hair was grabbed by Gurvan as he pulled a large combat knife from the back of his belt.

""Any last words?", he asked bending over slightly while looking Shultz straight in the eyes.

Suburb 3
Lowport
Republic of Milesia/High Kingdom of Ivernia

Two days after arriving in Lowport 8,000 Kadikistani soldiers had already finished reorganizing themselves in the south-western suburbs of the city, simply named 'Suburban Area 3'. Republican intelligence had informed Berbadjov and his officers that the Ivernian Imperial Army was marching down the main road separating two major suburbs. It appeared that they where heading towards the main city, most probably in an attempt to secure the government offices in the city centre. Once this intelligence had reached the Kadikistani command it was decided that their forces would have to call the Ivernian armour entering the city to a halt. While infiltrating the south-western suburb the Kadikistani 'volunteers' had already positioned themselves on the south side of the main road the Ivernians where using. By the time they had arrived the Ivernian Imperial Army was already marching on the road towards the city centre carefully monitoring their flanks, ever vigilant for a potential ambush. The Kadikistani forces and their republican allies on the other side of road, an area the Kadikistani's named ' Suburban Area 1' could not be contacted due to a lack of clear communications. Around 3,000 Kadikistani soldiers on the south side of the road hoped that their allies on the other side would grab the opportunity and join in the attack. But Berbadjov was not about to leave anything to chance. He ordered the field commanders to assemble a high number of platoons that would attempt to cross the main road in the chaos of the battle. Well informed about the infrastructure of Suburban Area 1 by their republican allies the platoons would attempt to take strategic positions on the north side of the road so they could attack the Ivernian reinforcements from both sides using some of the most modern anti-tank weapons Kadikistan had to offer such as the RPG-2.

Experienced anti-tank squads would be concentrated on both the front as the rear of the enemy column in an attempt to block their way in both directions by using the enemy tanks as blockade. The 14 of the 30 light-artillery pieces hidden within range outside of the city would participate in turning the main road into an inferno. The other 16 would bombard known enemy positions in the city centre where the main Kadikistani attack would concentrate itself on. The remaining 5,000 Kadikistani soldiers would attack the city centre en mass supported by no less then 6,000 members of the republican 'Lowport Brigade'. The Kadikistani artillerists where trained in rapid-fire and had twenty minutes to barrage both the main road and the city centre before the ground attack could commence. After those twenty minutes the mobile light artillery would cease fire and relocate into cover as quick as possible as the aerial response would no doubt be merciless. Berbadjov and his officers had calculated that it would take at least 25 minutes for the first Ivernian and Burgundian planes to hit the artillery positions. He wanted to keep as much of his artillery as possible in tact, though even the artillerists themselves realized that the shots they where about to fire could likely be their last. Supporting the artillery barrage would be a lined network of mortars shelling the enemy positions, attempting to flatten what little cover remained.

"Comrades, it is Wednesday the 24th of February 8 pm. Let it begin.", with those simple and slightly poetic words General Sepakov Berbadjov ordered the attack to commence. Seconds after his orders the artillery batteries outside of the city opened fire supported by constant mortar fire from within the south-western suburbs. The main road and the city centre bordering Suburban Area 3 pounded with foreign artillery shells and mortar grenades. Enemies fleeing from their positions or having their cover blown to bits where easy meat for the heavy machine guns the Expeditionary Force had installed along the front-line. The inferno would continue for another twenty minutes before the ground attack would begin. The ground attack on the city would be led by the 42nd 'First Spear' Brigade under Lt. Col. Ratko Bovinovitch while the 43th 'Breakers' Brigade of Brig. Gen. Pjotr Komotec would focus their effort on the main road. The platoons would simultaneously attempt to cross the road 5 minutes into the bombardment when the chaos was expected to reach its peak. Berbadjov realised that many of these platoons would be mowed down, but it was imperative that the Ivernians would be trapped on the main road and thus sitting ducks for the Kadikistani's and their Milesian allies.

The Kadikistani's had several advantages, experience in urban combat, superior weapons such as the KA-47 and the fact that they where fresh and motivated for combat. Time would tell if that was enough. The Burgundian/Ivernian air superiority was what bothered Berbadjov and his officers the most.

 

[Ivernia]

Imperial Palace of Midhe
Royal City Caladbolg
Nemedia
High Kingdom of Ivernia

''Cidolphus you are to meet with the Saaremaa delegate. You tell them I will be with them much later in the night, and their offers to us have been already accepted. You are our Field Marshal, I trust you above all else, to guide the Saare Armies of the East to synchronize with our own machinations.''

A dark and stormy night in the capital. Men hung in the Imperial Palace like shadows. Tension in the air. The gas lamps casting their glow down the long dark corridors. High, high ceilings where the light could not follow, darkness above the heads of all men who were spending yet another long night in this building. Darkness above the head of one man.

Nuada Airgetlám hardly looked from his notes when he talked to Cid. Calm and cold, ever cold, Nuada seemed to take the Kadikistani attack in stride. Taking things in stride was a common ease for Nuada. A man, not handsome and not ugly. A stern man with a stern face. War never fazed him, he had been a soldier since he was 16. It was his natural environment, and he distrusted peace.

Walder stood beside him. Feeding him reports of the dark happenings in Milesia. Now no longer able to masquerade as a member of John Holt's Republican ministry, he left John Holt, and returned to Caladbolg with nary a word. In truth, few held closer alliance and partnership with the Taoiseach than he. The members of the old battalion who served Nuada when he was but a colonel, held very special positions in his cabinet.

Cidolphus made haste with his orders and left Nuada's sight. Nuada could see the Field Marshal moved with slight more confidence and determination than usual. Airgetlám was pleased. He could always see doubt in the Field Marshal's eyes. But not anymore.

Highborns always had doubt for the commoners. But now Airgetlám had him. Airgetlám had everyone. The whole High Kingdom. The Kadikistani invaded and now Ivernia belonged to him for decades and decades to come. But first, he had to cleanse Milesia.

''Of all the filth.'' He said quietly to himself. Walder took note, beside him, but said nothing. Walder knew, Nuada thought to himself. He understood.

Two more commanders approached him in this cold and dimly lit room. Major-General Niall Mac Gallons with the 3rd Nemedian Western Brigade, and Lieutenant-General Micheal Ghlaislainn, commander of the Order of the Northern Sky.

Both saluted the Taoiseach in the traditional Ivernish fashion. He may not be High King, but here was the true master of the Gaelríocht, and the Generals knew it.

''Mac Gallons, I have heard your successful endeavors to make secure of Lake Ester, and do you intend to move south hence forth? I am expecting the attendance of your Forces at Lowport by the new week.''

The Major General stood straight like an arrow. ''Indeed Taoiseach. The winter broke down the first of the Republican's resolve. The march of the rest of the Order of the Central Sky to the south of us weakened it further, finally broken to no repair by the end of support by the Saare peoples. We have secured Lake Ester and Saaremaa no longer poses threat. We march tonight. We are expected to make it to Lowport by the new week.''

Nuada nodded and turned to his fellow officer, in turn, ''And you Commander. Tell me, how many fight under the Order of the Southern Sky? How many draw my wages still?''

A more gruff man, a Formorian. Northernly and brusque. Still retained his beard in full showing, as was Formorian tradition - a symbol of his superiority in the military was the allowance of such a beard. He too stood tall and straight, and saluted his Taoiseach once more.

''By last census Taoiseach, 75,000 of the Standard Brigades are in combat readiness, as well as volunteers numbering 24,000. More men have asked to join the recruiters and fill our ranks ever larger, but I'd nary the coin to support the bulging army to the expanse I would like to enjoy in the current climate. We sit in Formoria and watch a war unfold below us most uncomfortably.''

Ask and you shall receive, the Taoiseach enjoyed the man's clairvoyance. ''Ye shall sit atop the highlands of Ivernia no longer, rather you shall make a haste towards Nemedia with half of your Order to the final legacy of meeting the borders of Milesia and holding firm. My next play will require many of the Order of the Central Sky, and the Northern Sky must be ready and prepared, if need be, to lay upon as reinforcements as the campaign ensures.''

Nuada handed the two men their papers. ''Operation Gae Bolg, devised by our leadership and the Stalwart Lord Aodh-Mór, shall be the onus of our operations from now until the end of March. As you were gentlemen, make off with you now.''

Nuada turned to his pile of reports once again. The next was a curious, thick, brown envelope, and now it was this letter's turn to open. The former Colonel pulled his letter knife from the table hold, drove it into the letter and split the seams as well as the wax stamp that sealed it.

''House Aodh-Mór's seal. I believe I am in for a late Imbolc present.'' Nuada said as red crumbs of wax fell about his table.

''Yes sir indeed,'' Walder chimed. ''It seems the One Wing project is over, and mass production finished. Two hundred and twenty two Banshees are ready for flight.'' Walder always seemed to know the contents, frustratingly, of letters sealed by wax.

''Indeed,'' Nuada retorted to this frustration. Placing this letter from the Aodh-Mór Corporation down, he looked through his papers, to find a clean one.

''Walder, get a typist. We must send message to General Rothillan. Tell him to proceed as planned. Go all in. Use the entire Order of the Skies he has. Central and Southern. Push down. According to the G2 the Kadikistani are better armed, equipped, and fresh. How many did you say there were again? How many also, in the Central Sky?''

''About twenty to thirty thousand I believe. Possibly forty thousand.'' Walder replied. Hands in his long coat. ''We also have 330,000 in the Central Sky. Made up of 130,000 in Nemedia. 100,000 in Vedrarfjord. All the sorry rest, all 100,000, are at Lowport.''

''Tell Rothillan to send 70,000 men and all our heavy armour in. He must be as like the very Gae Bolg itself.

Also send for the minister of communications. He'll be making more recruitment movies by March's beginning.''

Walder then too, made his way from the Taoiseach's side. And so the man was alone in the gloom.

 

[Kadikistani Union]

Dubra County
Kadikistani-occupied Milesia

Less than a day after the Kadikistani offensive had begun government officials had received a confidential message from functionaries of the Socialist World Republic. Herein the latter stated that they plan on evacuating large segments of the republican movement to the North Borean nation, acknowledging that the republican cause was becoming more hopeless every passing day. This, however, was contrary to the Kadikistani strategy of prolonging the civil war as long as possible in an attempt to keep the once mighty Ivernia destabilized and thus powerless on the international scene. To do this Kadikistan needed as much warriors as possible and more importantly than that they needed legitimacy for their presence in the country. That legitimacy was indissolubly connected to the support of John Holt's republican government. Kadikistan needed to do everything within its power to stop or at least minimize the SWR proposed evacuation. Therefore the Kadikistani High Command hastily organized what they called 'Operation Extraction'. They could not waste any time.

The Republican Army had donated several military transport trucks to Berbadjov's Expeditionary Force fuelled up and ready to depart. A company of 220 men split-off from the regiment guarding Rulex, Dubra and Féin and embarked onto the rambling transport trucks. With them was a small unit of special forces, called Spetsnaz, which counted only 20 members. They where to become the spear of Operation Extraction, their speed and tactics were deemed essential. The destination of the transport trucks was evident. One by one the trucks headed down towards the main road to Weasfjord, the de facto capital of the self-proclaimed Republic of Milesia. Going at full speed it would not be very long until they arrived at the city were it all began in what seemed like a decade ago. Once there they would initially meet up with local Marxist-Leninovist republicans who would serve as their guides in the city. With the help of some 600 local forces loyal to the Marxist-Leninovist cause the Kadikistani forces would set a security perimeter around the Parliament House and the residence in which John Holt was located. The Spetsnaz unit, under support of the rest of the company and the Milesian auxiliary forces, would be the first to enter these governmental buildings. Once inside they would attempt to disarm the guards, or even liquidate them should they resist. Several of these guards loyal to Ivar where notified beforehand and made preparations such as unlocking several main entry points, closing the armoury and sending out known anti-Leninovist colleagues on diverse errants.

Once the guards where out of the picture the extraction would begin. All main members of the Milesian government would be taken from their offices or even homes, except those who belonged to the Kadikistani camp. The plan seemed solid, but much depended on their speed. John Holt was an absolute priority and thus the main focus of the Kadikistani raiders. Once secured the Milesian government would be brought back to Dubra where a small inconspicuous transport vessel was already waiting to take them to Rurikgrad and eventually Ivar. For now the Kadikistani's where anxiously sitting in the backs of the transport trucks awaiting to arrive at their destination.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Dain County

Schultz did not understand the words but easily comprehended their meaning. He began to laugh- maniacally and genuinely. It was a sick ad perverse laugh, the type that seemed strange even those with mental deficiencies. The laugh was such that even the men around him reacted with raised eyebrows. He didn't care if they understood his German or not- "You're all going to die" he sputtered as he laughed even harder. He spit blood at one of the captors before laughing again.


North of Lowport

It was a well coordinated and well timed effort. First, the Stormhawks* took off, then the S27's, followed by the S30's. The Pestrel fighters were the last to take off. Every aircraft was filled to the brim. Thanks to Ivernish intelligence and reports from Lowport, a large enemy body was seen to be approaching the city. The S30's had 18,000 pounds of bombs each, the S27's 4,000 pounds each, and the Stormhawks relied on rockets. They would go first and hit AA positions and vehicles. The S27's would come in only minutes behind them, targeting the infantry. The huge lumbering S30's would attack a general area. Finally the Pestrels would escort them all home. It was going to be an interesting day. Losses were anticipated from ground fire but the men remained confident. The Stormhawks roared down the runway as the S27's began to taxi. All in all, not including the escorts, 70 aircraft were bound for the attack. The Formations were going to be wide and but the timing close. One group would hit right after the next. Today would be a Burgundian day.







Stormhawk=Sea Fury. Petrel= Super Mystere, S30= B-29, S27= A-26

 

[Oneida]

Salzburg Naval Base
Salzburg, Carinthia
Headquarters of the Northern Fleet

The car pulled into the Olasz Administrative Building, which held the majority of the offices for the Salzburg Naval Base, home of the Carintho-Harkaner Northern Fleet. Admiral Tivadar Vincze stared out at the gray sky before his attention was grapped by the opening of the door. The Admiral stepped out of the car and walked past a line of saluting officers of the Imperial Navy. At the end of the line stood Chancellor Jordan.

“You did not need to see me off,” Admiral Vincze stated.

“Nonsense,” Chancellor Jordan responded “I’ve been trying to kill you off for years, I couldn’t conceive not seeing your face in my moment of victory.”

The Admiral’s eyes strained as he stared at a triumphant Chancellor. The wind picking up added to the coldness between the two men. The Admiral lowered his head, and when he raised it he had a big smile on his face.

“You’re such a sore loser,” he chuckled “becoming Chancellor and inciting what will surely be a war only to kill me off? How Carinthian.”

The two men laughed and the Chancellor stepped forward to embrace the Admiral. The hug was unusually tight, even more unusual that it was in public.

“Are you alright?” asked the Admiral.

“This time is different,” the old Chancellor replied “I hope you understand that.”

“Of Course,” the Admiral answered as he began to walk into the building “But dying in the name of the Kaiser is of the highest honor.”

“In the highest,” the Chancellor snickered, following the Admiral.

The two men entered the Administrative Building and greeted the officers present before heading up to the War Room, perhaps ironically named. There stood Captain Nickolaus Plank. The Captain saluted the Chancellor and the Admiral. They were joined by several other high ranking officers who would be leading the Chancellor’s Quarantine. In front of them on a table was a map of the southern coast of Ivernia.

“Admiral,” began Captain Plank “We will have the debriefing on the quarantine on your desk within the hour. It is an honor to serve under your esteemed command.”

“When will the fleet be ready for departure?” asked the Admiral.

“Under the short notice-immediate present danger,” the Captain corrected himself after the Chancellor’s scorn “The fleet will be ready for full deployment within a few days’ time. We are preparing for any scenario, given the heightened tension of the situation. That is the reason for the delay.”

The Admiral nodded his head and the room was dismissed. The two walked to the office of the Admiral, where sure enough there was a file filled with papers. Before even acknowledging the presence of the papers, the admiral opened a cabinet to the left side of his office and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He pulled out two glasses and poured the drinks. The Chancellor picked up his glass and the two toasted.

“Your orders are clear, Chancellor,” the admiral said “A quarantine will be imposed upon the rebel Milesia and we will stop every ship from entering the territory.”

“May God be with you, Tivo,” the Chancellor replied.

The two men looked at the window and watched as sailors scrambled to ready the pride of the Imperial Navy for a long campaign in Milesia.

 

[Dalriada]

Capital of Ivernia

The hotel room smelt of smoke and cheap booze, the bed sheet was stained from nights of it being used by desperate men and their lady of the night.

"Boss listen to this"A small pale man said, he had headphones with a device hooked up to to an antenna.
"We're surrounded I repeat, the Kadistakikans have got us pinned with-" The radio cut before he could hear the sounds of motor fire,
"Shit get the word upstairs, Evening light is compromised this not a false alarm Evening Light is compromised" said the man in the room wearing a suit. The pale man starting tapping away morse code. The man in the suit then kicked a man sitting on a chair facing the door.

"Rhys, we got to leave now" He said, Rhys shot up from his chair.
"Boss you got the passports and papers?" the pale man asked while putting away his equipment in a guitar case.
"Of course I have, now hurry up only matter of time before they picked up our message to GH19. We are going to have the commies pissed at us we don't need the Ivernish as well over our little party in here. We're leaving on the next train".

The three men left the hotel carrying guitar cases, they entered the country as wanna be musicians. There were many small groups like this across the gothic region.They were not spies, they would encrypted messages sent between GH19 and the military in the field.

Cyrmu,High Military Command

Major General David Peel Yates was in his office, the news of losing members of the 1st of Border Rifles come fast to him. he had his chief of staff, Admiral Morris and a high ranking member of GH19 whom would be rarely seen or talked about outside the Security Department was with him. Currently he ordered the U-boat ferrying the rest of the 1st Border Rifles and the SSO team to stand by off the Ivernia coast since other rumours and informations was streaming through the comm links pick up by GH19.

"We have heavy radio chatter in the Gothic sea and massive hostilite present in and around the area, we believe in the common weeks it might turn into a massive battle.To add to the lost members of the 1st Border Rifles and possible comprised of operation Evening light " the GH19 member said staying cold face and mortune. He didn't like military officers they would most of the time only pick information given to them that confirmed their previous position while ignoring damming ones since it would hurt their fragile little egos.

"We must pull everything out now before we can't back out because we simply don't have the manpower or resources to be drag into a large scale war let alone even a world war type scenario" the Chief of staff said

"That's nonsense you're over reacting with the intelligence gathered by GH19, the reason there's lot of radio traffic in that area because there are war games being carried out by various navies. Anyway we recently added two more U-boats to our Submarine Flotilla with the new missiles develop. I plan to have all eight of our U-boats and Coastal Portal Task Force on full alert in case of spill over from a potential battle." The Admiral Morris said. The navy was the spoilt child of the armed services, they had most money spent on even through it was the smallest manpower wise.

"The same missile which jammed in the firing system?"the chief of staff said mockley towards the Admiral
"Why you-"The admiral was going to blow off at the Chief of Staff but Peel cut him out

"Silent both of you, if we have our navy in full alert around the current hot spot it would be see as a provocation, it would be stupid especially if we going to have a openly aggressive Kadikistan on our hands, It's a time of making allies and battening down the hatches, I shall see if I can persuade the Field Marshal to ,move the Abertawe Infantry to the border and ask you Admiral to have two of your U-Boats passively portaling our waters only firing warring shots." Peel told them.

The men besides the GH19 member saluted the Major General and left. He picked up the office phone to ring Sir Thomas Picton hoping he wasn't drunk when he told him about the recent news.

 

[Ivernia]

Raughan's Road
Lowport

Raughan's road was in ruins. Buildings along the street were skeletons of their foundations on either side. Rubble was strewn across the street. Red bricks, slabs of concrete, bodies and shell casings all littered this battlefield. The sun was bright but the day was very cold, although none of the men on that street could feel it. Captain MacAteer least of all. A man brought in to this war from the Himyari Commonwealth, Ivernia had never felt colder. He looked at Raughan Roads' buildings, they were so damaged as to have a honeycomb effect, and he saw the street was infested, from every vantage point, from every cover, by Republicans. It was a terrible dreading that finally, he was on the frontlines. He may have been a Captain, but as he marched down this road he stepped over so many bodies, it made him vomit and shake. He had never felt more anxious. He could see the Republicans at last, armed and ready to stop what was undoubtedly the main assault of the Imperials.

But MacAteer and the Ivernish men continued to press on into this beehive. It was clear to the Captain that the Republicans on this street, and in this city, were unlike anything the Imperials had faced before. More determination than anything seen before. While MacAteer was fatigued from the long winter trek to this city, the actual besieged republicans seemed alike man-demons in combat. No fear, no remorse, no doubt. It was truly brutal, and many thousands of Ivernish men would absolutely fall in the march down Raughan's Road. This was a forlorn hope. All men here wrote their wills, in haste, the night before. Those who survived would get extra pay, accolades, maybe even a medal. Those who died would join the Elysium, and join the rest of the brave in death. Or at least MacAteer hoped to believe. Many of the men spoke of it, to console themselves, he did not know truly what to feel. It did not matter soon, as his adrenaline would soon push out his thoughts.

The gunfire was so rapid as to be constant. The sound of which was shocking to MacAteer as bullets flew from every corner and every building in the street. The Ivernish assault had slowed to a crawl. MacAteer's Commander had received orders to push ever more men in as for the Ivernish to have ''all the pierce of a spear, and all the tremendous force of a sledgehammer.'' But it was barely enough to hold in this bottleneck. Many Ivernish soldiers crawled over their fallen comrades to take their cover. Whatever was possible, would do. A group of men behind a slab of concrete. Another in a taken building. Every building was a fight, a battle. With Ivernish Imperials taking the place of Republicans in the upper floors of buildings just to die the same. MacAteer himself was with his men, in column behind a Paladin tank.

The heavy armour was the terror. There are two main classes of tanks in the Ivernish Army. The Paladin and the Scorpion. The Paladin's were big. They had big guns, they were scary. While a Scorpion would be better suited for urban combat and the eventual narrow streets, MacAteer figured for a forlorn hope to go in with shock-effect must have had an effect on the rebels. Rather, men around and outside the street, preventing a crushing flank used the Scorpions to navigate the smaller alleyways.

The Paladin was rolling into the fray, into the absolute front line. MacAteer could see the previous Paladin on the side of the street, destroyed by the Rebels' strange rocketry. The Paladin's noise was so loud it could be heard even order the gunfire. It's presence indomitable. It hit into a burned out Paladin and pushed it to one side. The burned out Paladin was knocked into the wall of a building in this impact and several men in the building screamed as the wall crashed down on them. The heavy metal thud sounded almost as worse as the metal screeching long the road. The Paladin cleared it's fallen brother and continued. MacAteer decided to take the chance, and ordered his soldiers to pour into the Ivernish-held buildings and houses. Many were shot in this maneuver, and fell to the ground screaming as dark red blood poured into the street.

MacAteer was not one of the unlucky, and when he got into a building he pulled around a corner and fell prone. He almost fainted, but resisted, and told his men to hold down. The tank's cannon was making a very characteristic whirr. The whirring continued as the cannon made it's choice of target. While the cannon was still aiming a whooshing sound could be heard form the end of the street. One of those RPG's, MacAteer wondered, the metal bang after confirmed it not just to be so, but also to be a direct hit.

MacAteer's ears were ringing. He led his men up the stairs of the building he was in. Up the stairs and looking around it was a residential house. The cupboards and drawers empty. Evacuated, he hoped. He moved into a bedroom, following one of his men. He could see a hole in the wall which would get him into the next building without having to go back out to the Road.

His hearing returning, he could, with amazement, hear whirring. The tank was still operating. He peeked out what was left of the window of the bedroom. A tremendous dent in the front left. The tracks on the left also obliterated. But the cannon stood, and the men inside clearly fighting to the death. They had no choice. Then the whirring stopped, MacAteer and his men got down and covered their ears.

The roar of fire and noise filled the street. A shockwave threw glass and linen and bedclothes about the bedroom. A building far to the end of the street came down. The entire building destroyed. The tank fell silent for a moment. More men began to move forwards, and the gunfire from the Republicans continued almost even more ferociously than before.

For MacAteer another battle was afoot, his own. He crept through the hole into the other building. His men too, all walking low to the ground. While being quiet seemed unnecessary with the noise and smoke of battle the men were happily playing cautious with their own lives. MacAteer had entered a bathroom. The tiles broken, the toilet ceramic across the floor. And for some reason the taps removed from the sink. He pressed on into the hallway.

He could see another hole at the end of this hallway, smaller, too small to get through to get into the next building. By this point the men were very low. Windows and holes in the hallway invited gunfire from the road into their world. But MacAteer could see something in the hole. Rebel soldiers in the next building, shooting down into the street from the windows. Keeping cover, sharing ammo. Keeping themselves alive. MacAteer thought of how best to kill them.

He canvassed his men and found by good fortune three grenades. He kept two and sent three of his men downstairs with the third. Through a hole in the floor he could see them. He could see, that they could see another hole into this next building. Large enough at least for passage of a grenade.

He held out his hand. Five fingers, then four, then three. Then men from below watched. More gunfire from the streets and an explosion nearby from what sounded like artillery.

Then two, then one. Then he pulled the two pins. He waited a second or two, then threw them in the hole into the rebel soldiers, and the Imperials rushed to find the ground. His soldiers down a floor collaborated on this most reckless endeavor. But the exchange appeared to be working from the screams. Whatever thoughts they might be entertaining, MacAteer panicked to himself, they have seconds to complete them.

An explosion, they were too late. Their neighbours were no more. The explosion took out much of the wall and one of MacAteer's men fell through the collapsing floor onto the ground floor. The men heard another explosion from the location of the tank. Whether it was tankfire, or the destruction of the Paladin, MacAteer could not be sure. His ears were not recovering well.
But his eyes were fine, and he could see enraged republicans running down the hallway of the neighbouring building to find their comrades in pieces. They quickly took positions and fired at the Imperials. The Imperials fired back under cover. MacAteer leaned out of the hole with his rifle and fired down the hallway at the men. The returning fire killed one of MacAteer's men. MacAteer however saw one of the rebels crouched behind a corner in the hallway. A thin wall, those hallways, as MacAteer put bullets into the plaster, he could see a man fall out from his cover, in shock, groan, gurgle and die. His blood began to pour into the carpet to mix with the dust. MacAteer in return was shot in the shoulder and the Captain fell backwards onto the floor in his own building. One of his men took his place and another tried to stem the blood pouring out of MacAteer's shoulder. He began to feel hazy. Then the whole world shook. He couldn't even hear it. His men began to look on in shock and then cheer. They held him up and McAteer could see - an artillery shell just hit the building he was shooting into. All the rebels in that building were killed and crushed. He couldn't believe it. He was seeing spots. The men stopped cheering and surrounded the captain.

Someone gave an injection into his arm. MacAteer was seeing spots. He felt tunnel vision. The men, again, felt fearful, but MacAteer could not see it. He couldn't see anything anymore, couldn't hear anything anymore. And when the next artillery shell hit his building, killing them all, he couldn't feel anything anymore either.

 

[Oneida]

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​

BE ADVISED

Tomorrow, 27[SUP]th[/SUP] February, 1956, at noon, the Imperial Navy will arrive in position and begin full enforcement of a quarantine of all rebel Milesian Ports pursuant to command of the Chancellor with the consent of the Imperial Parliament. The quarantine will remain in effect until such a time that the Ivernish Government requests that the Imperial Navy cease operations within the region.

This warning will serve as notification to all combatants within the area that the Imperial Navy will not permit any vessel access into rebel Milesian ports and will turn them back to their nation of origin, regardless of which nation that is.

Any and all sign of aggression or interference with the lawful operations of the Imperial Navy will be seen as a hostile act against the Empire of Carinthia-Harkány as a whole. Any hostile act will be dealt with in proportion.

Signed,

Admiral Tivador Vincze
Commanding Officer of the Milesian Quarantine
Admiral of the Carintho-Harkaner Northern Fleet
Empire of Carinthia-Harkány

​

 

[Kadikistani Union]

Raughan's Road
Lowport

The Ivernian Paladin tanks where tearing their way through Raughan's Road, still slowly pushing through despite heavy resistance from both republican forces and the 'Kadikistani Volunteer Force'. The smaller Ivernian tanks in the side streets where essential in covering their main column, but where also more vulnerable to the Kadikistani anti-tank weapons. The Paladin needed a precise shot from the RPG-2 to be destroyed otherwise the rocket-propelled grenades didn't sufficiently penetrate the heavy armour. The Kadikistani forces were instructed to take down the tanks within their range one by one, but the chaos that ensued after the artillery ended and the ground attack began was so severe that the anti-tank squad quickly became disorganized, each attacking the first tank they saw at opportune moments. Every now and then a Paladin would be destroyed, but they would only fall at a terrible cost of live as the anti-tank squads often exposed themselves after firing instantly being targeted themselves.

A handful of Kadikistani platoons had managed to cross Raughan's Road and positioned themselves in the ruined buildings there, some joining up with the local republicans. These platoons hoped they hadn't so carelessly separated themselves from the rest of the division. One of the few platoons who made it was under the acting command of Sgt. Pjotr Ivanovich, after the lieutenant who originally commanded the platoon got shot in the face the second he set foot on Raughan's Road. The little manoeuvre across the street had left only eighteen of the thirty original members still alive. Twelve had taken positions in the ruins of a bakery, they could tell because of what remained of the furnaces was still visible. The other six where pinned down behind a ruin a few metres away from the bakery. Ivanovich, just recovering from a bullet pinching off his earlobe, was informed about the six's predicament and decided to assemble a small rescue squad under heavy protest of a corporal who claimed it was suicide. But before an order was given the debate became obsolete as a grenade shell hit the position of their six fellow platoon members shredding them all while launching several chunks of debris at the wobbly east wall of the bakery.

Ivanovich looked through a small whole in the wall on the first floor which gave about a 200 metre deep view of the carnage on Raughan's Road. The farthest he could see was a burning Paladin tank, the smoke and the fire covering what might have been behind it. Although deafening explosions and bullet impacts where all around the platoon the bullets now seemed to come from under them. One of Ivanovich's men came running up the partly destroyed stairs: "Comrade Sergeant! A group of enemies is attempting to enter the bottom floor.", the man said out of breath while grabbing a new magazine from the body of one of his former comrades. "Vako, Bugarin, Livotesk and Draja go downstairs and make sure the attack is stopped.", Ivanovich replied. Even though the Ivernian attackers counted some 25 men Ivanovich was confident that he had sent enough reinforcements, the automatic rifles giving a great advantage to the bolt action rifles that most Ivernian troops carried.

As he heard the shooting downstairs escalate Ivanovich looked through the little whole once again, but what he saw seemed to grab his troath. The burning paladin he saw earlier was just rammed aside by another Ivernian heavy tank followed by several infantry units. Although they where under heavy fire they where slowly approaching the bakery. While eight of his men were downstairs fighting of the invaders Ivanovich ordered two of his three subordinates on the first floor to grab the last two RPG-3's rockets and arm two of the reusable launchers. "I want you to simultaneously hit that heavy tank on his weak point under his barrel. You will have one shot to destroy it or it will be able to ram through this building in less than three minutes. Precision is key comrades, good luck.", Ivanovich explained. The two men quickly loaded the RPG's and ran onto the balcony. One of the two balcony's instantly collapsed under the weight of the Kadikistani soldier, who fired his shot as he fell down a floor, his rocket hitting a random building down the street. The other balcony managed to hold the weight but the soldier was shot twice in the chest while taking aim. The only other soldier on his floor engaged in a gunfight with the building across the street Ivanovich knew it was up to him. He ran onto the balcony and ripped the armed RPG-3 out of the hands of his mortally wounded comrade. While several bullets hit the walls behind him he took aim and fired right before he himself received a bullet in the gut. As he fell to his knees his eyes remained fixed on the rocket he had just fired. It was a direct hit and a stream of fire pushed through the top hatched of the paladin tank. He was pleased, but you could not tell from his face since the realization of his impending death had quickly overwhelmed his moment of joy.

As the rest of his body joined his legs on the floor of the balcony Ivanovich faced towards the inside of the first floor. In his last moments he saw three members of his platoon running up the slowly collapsing stairs. Clearly they had been pushed back by the Ivernian infantry below, but they were no longer the concern of the sergeant. His 17 minutes as platoon commander in Lowport were over.

Suburban Area 1 and Suburban Area 3
Lowport

The Aerial response of the enemy was merciless. Heavy bombardments from the skies splattered the offensive on the city centre and hit the Kadikistani and republican positions in the western suburbs hard. Luckily for the Kadikistani forces the ground offensive was already ongoing before Burgundian bombers showed up, they had already been able to penetrate several blocks in the city centre just a few hundred metres away from the heavily damaged Cathedral. But now the heavy bombardment had stopped the offensive and the Kadikistani's had to reorganize, fortify the new front line. It was not easy creating a lined front as several buildings behind the new lines where still under the enemy's control. Surrounded these pockets did not stand much of a chance, but it slowed things down. While the first offensive was halted the Kadikistani offensive would restart once the troops reorganized after the devastating bombardment.

Dain County
Kadikistani-Occupied Milesia

The captain's insane laughter was cut short by a chocking sound as he was suddenly suffocating in his own blood after Sgt. Gurvan opened his throat with his combat knife. If it would have been up to Gurvan, Schultz's death would have been prolonged, but orders were orders. Without any regard one of the guards kicked the still chocking captain in the back, face-planting Schultz's in the blood-soaked snow. While the other guards casually walked away slinging their rifles back over their shoulders Sgt. Gurvan stayed to witness the Burgundian's final breath, or rather final choke. The moment didn't take to long to come, but was preceded by one more act of disgust from Gurvan who spatted on the back of Schultz's head sticking out of the snow. "Crazy pilots...", Gurvan thought as he joined his comrades in walking away. Some light snow was beginning to fall, it was likely Schultz's body wouldn't be found at least until spring.

 

[Saaremaa]

Farrais, Truru Commune, Cumbria Proper, Kingdom of Cumbria

Field Marshall Morgan MacPherson stopped for a moment to look through the window. Snowflakes began to fall again. In the last week the weather was milder, snows beginning to slowly turn into rains but it seemed that the winter will remain around for a while. This was the weather of Vaalbara, a person born here should be used to it, but MacPherson was annoyed by it. He couldn’t stand the interminable winters of the north… He was a bulky man, in his early 50s, with short trimmed red hair, slowly balding and green eyes that could very easily show all the emotions of the Marshall. He was a hero: first of the White Army and afterwards of the Unitarian and Royal Army. He was the one who resisted against the general’s coup d’etat in 1952 and kept Naoned for three weeks, after the whole nation fell in the hands of the military regime. He managed to survive after he surrendered his forces to avoid battles in the city and to see the king return back to his throne. Now, he wants to help the Ivernians do what Cumbria did and to finally destroy the republicans and the communists.

A phone ringing in the room ended his daydreaming. He was in the office of the mayor of the village of Farrais, which has been transformed into the temporary meeting room of the high command of the 1[SUP]st[/SUP] Unitarian and Royal Army, which is to intervene in Milesia, to lift the siege on Lowport and together with the Imperial Army of Ivernia end the existence of the Republic of Milesia and with it, push the Kadikistani back to the sea.

“Sir, the central command of the UaRAF are reporting that the planes from the bases of Naoned and Sant Piran Truru have departed. Their mission has started,” an intelligence officer reported after he responded and exchanged a few words on the phone.

“Good. They have their mission and will be successful on it, we have ours,” MacPherson said smiling to the man. After the meeting of Mormaer Rewan MacAndain with the Taoiseach of the High Kingdom of Ivernia, the Cumbrian forces have received green light for their operations into Ivernia. The Unitarian and Royal Air Force have also joined the fight against the Milesian republic. The 2[SUP]nd[/SUP] Bomber Squadron, based in the city of Sant Piran Truru left for Lowport, having the mission to bomb the western approaches of the city, to soften the Milesian forces besieging it from that direction preparing for the Cumbric offensive. The 1[SUP]st[/SUP] Fighter Squadron also left to scout the 45 kilometers portion between the Cumbric border to the western suburbs of the city and to engage any possible Milesian strongpoints that might affect the movement of the armored division and the two mechanized infantry divisions that Cumbria is ready to throw in Milesia.

MacPherson looked at the map of Milesia that was situated on a table surrounded by more than twenty officers. “So… We will organize ourselves in three main columns. Two will go on the same route. The 2[SUP]nd[/SUP] Mechanized Kerns division will take the coastal road, along the sea to approach Lowport from the east-south-east while the Armored Division Epona will do a pincer move so it will approach the city from the north-east. I want those units to arrive in Lowport as quick as possible. I don’t want them to engage enemy forces until they reach the city. Attack only if you are shot first. That will be the policy until we arrive in the city. Afterwards, the 1[SUP]st[/SUP] Mechanized Kerns division will disperse and clean eastern Milesia – between the city and our borders, so that we are sure that the republicans will not attack us from behind. After this move is done, the 1[SUP]st[/SUP] Mechanized will move to the north of the city and join with the Imperial Ivernish troops. Questions?”

“But sir, let’s say that we pass near a fortified point of the republicans that the planes haven’t attacked. Are we to engage it if it is in our path?” Colonel Eanraig MacArtain, commander of the 1[SUP]st[/SUP] Armored Brigade, asked.
“You are to avoid it. Let the Mechanized Kerns clean up after you pass. You are to engage only if you are attacked. If not, try to avoid contact as much as possible. Our mission here is to arrive in the city as quick as possible. Other questions?” asked the Marshal again looking in the eyes of each of the officers surrounding the map.

“No, sir,” each of them said it loudly to show their commander that they understood and are ready to follow his plans.

“Very well… Are the soldiers ready to leave?” asked the Marshal again.

“At any moment, sir,” MacArtain responded.

“Very well, gentlemen. You are dismissed. The code word for commencing the operation is <Saorsa>. The order will be given when the fighter squadrons of the UaRAF have crossed back into Cumbric territory.”
More than two hours passed after MacPherson dismissed them when the phone rang again in the room. The intelligence officer responded and after exchanging a few phrases on the telephone, he turned to the Marshall and nodded.
“Give the order,” MacPherson told the radio operator.

“To all units. This is HQ Alpha. Saorsa. I repeat Saorsa. The operation is to commence,” said the radio man with a clear voice.

When the intelligence officer closed the call, he turned to the Marshall. “Sir, the UaRAF reports that they have returned back above Cumbric soil. They have engaged some Milesian fortifications that are on our route but in general they say that there are light fortifications, mostly because during the first part of the war, Cumbria, before the restoration was friendly to the Milesians so they concentrated their fortifications to the north and west. It seems that the city itself is something completely different. The Bombing Squadron was attacked by anti-air guns and they even had a plane falling in the city. They have lost contact with it and declared that it’s crew MIA.”

The Marshall nodded, thoughtful: “Mar sin tha a 'chogaidh*”.

Suburb 2, Lowport, Milesia, High Kingdom of Ivernia

Hamish Martainn opened his eyes. The atmosphere around him was hot from the fires and barely breathable with all the smoke. His whole body hurt like hell. He remembered how the plane’s cockpit took a direct hit from an anti-aircraft gun and went down. After that, it was black until this very moment. He heard a groan around the wreckage. Hamish tried to should: “Still alive?” but words barely came out of his mouth. He made an immense effort to get up, but couldn’t more than get on his knees. He thus crawled to the place where the man was groaning but when he saw him, Hamish couldn’t stop but puke. “Oh, god… Marc… can you hear me?” The man didn’t show signs of understanding what he was saying. Both his legs and a hand were severed and it seemed it also had a deep abdominal wound. It was clear he won’t survive. Hamish started crying as Marc’s groans and spasms grew lighter and lighter until they disappeared as he died.

Hamish startled when he felt a hand touching his shoulder. “Are you ok?” another man asked him. Hamish recognized him as Daniel, both him and Hamish being in the gunner crews of the bomber plane. “Leave him, he’s dead,” Daniel said. “We need to reach the Ivernian or Burgundian lines if we are to survive.” Daniel helped Hamish get on his feet. He put Hamish’s arm around his shoulder and they both were preparing the leave the wreckage.

“It would be easier to reach the Burgundians, in the city center than to reach the Ivernians on the other side,” said Hamish. When the plane fell, it went down on a street, it’s wings being destroyed after it hit the surrounding buildings. “We need to cross it to that intersection. I saw from the plane that it may bring us to a boulevard that would take it towards the center. I’ll go and see if the area is safe and then come to take you,” said Daniel as he put down Hamish near the wall of a two story house. But he didn’t do more than five steps afterwards, as a shot was heard and Daniel fell. He was shot in the head.

Hamish started to hyperventilate and he felt his eyes getting wetter. He tried to get up to hide back in the wreckage, but his feet hurt too much and fell down on the asphalt. It was too much for a mere 20 year old man: surviving a plane crash, seeing severed limbs and corpses, probably tearing the ligaments from both his ankles and seeing someone shot in the head right in front of him. As he fell down, and probably having a nervous breakdown, he heard shouting and saw soldiers coming to him.* So is war.

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Waesfjord
Western Milesia

With the fleets approaching, the Republican operatives on the ground hat to intensify their efforts. Additional agents had been sent in by the PDI, while those already in Milesia had now been tasked with a more proactive role, rather than just observing the conflict as they had done in the past months. In order to evacuate as many people as quickly and efficiently as possible, coordination of the efforts through the agents would be required, who would guide the helicopters that were to evacuate people from further inlands. More importantly, the agents were tasked with identifying and protecting priority targets: people the SWR wanted to get its hands on, who would be evacuated first.

Those weren't necessarily the most important people of the Republican movement, figureheads like President Holt. Not that the SWR wasn't interested in the entire leadership of the Republican movement either, but it considered the rank and file more valuable. The beuraucrats and the organizers, the officers, the union officials and journalists, the industrial managers and the scientists. People who had many valuable skills and a great deal of experience. The flesh and bone of the entire Milesian Republic. Educated and often of middle class origin, they would provide a boon for the SWR, as well as a future asset for its strategic goals.

John Holt himself was considered a bonus, but of more importance now than later. He was needed to convince the remainder of his government that abandon the sinking ship that was Milesia, to fight another day, rather than sacrifice themselves for a glorious last stand. Already, a split ran through the Milesian movement, as the Kadikistani tried to radicalize the movement and swayed the young and the poor within it to their unrelenting position of fighting to the last man. Secretely, the SWR wasn't entirely unhappy with this developement. It had little need for the unskilled and uneducated. If they chose to stay with the Leninovist faction, all the better. A prolonged conflict where reactionaries on the left and the right could waste ressources was benefitial to the Republic, as long as it managed to stay out of it and reap the rewards.

Meanwhile the President received additional protection in the shape of two PDI agents, at least until he had managed to speak to his minister and convinced them of taking up the offer of the SWR for asylum. However, unknown to them, Kadikistani special forces were approaching Vaesfjord...

 

[Kadikistani Union]

Waesfjord
Milesian Republic

The members of Operation Extraction had finally arrived on the eastern border of Milesia's temporary capital Waesfjord. The extraction team, counting 260 members including 40 Milesian soldiers, was hoping to arrive sooner, but were slowed down by the many republican checkpoints on the main road to the city. The conspicuous column of trucks only managed to reach the city because the Milesians in the brigade managed to persuade their comrades manning the checkpoints into thinking they where reinforcements carrying supplies. "Our Kadikistani comrades are here to train and equip us so we can win the war!", a Milesian Marxist-Leninovist said as the guards of one of the checkpoints had asked about the many foreigners in the trucks. Two informed checkpoint commanders were aware of the Kadikistani intentions and immediately cleared the path, but the Kadikistani command did not want this information to fall into the wrong hands and even if they did the communication lines weren't reliable. Company commander Major Ravel Zaitsov quicky gathered the platoon commanders of each truck in a small circle as the republican marked trucks where still roaring in the background on the edge of the provisional capital of Milesia.

Most of Maj. Zaitsov's command of this operation would be improvised. The orders where rushed and there was no telling how the Republican Guard would react to their presence. The Milesian collaborators had informed the commander of the city's lay-out as much as they could with the help of several maps and even blueprints of some major governmental buildings. Zaitsov was lighting a cigarette as he walked toward his gathered officers, offering a smoke to Captain Yurik Komorov next to him. "Due to the distance the Occidental defeatists have to cover we can assume they are not taking an aerial approach. Most likely they will attempt to evacuate the Milesian government through the Gothic Sea. Captain Komorov, you are to take 50 men and head for the docks. There you will position yourselves in such a way that you can ambush potential SWR personnel debarking from their ships. Its a large harbour, but do what you can to cover as much of it as possible. If you face any resistance from local republican troops attempt to persuade them that you are there to oversee a weapons shipment from Rurikgrad. If they seem hostile liquidate them silently, draw no attention to yourselves and covertly await the arrival of those treacherous bastards.", Zaitsov said padding his friend Komorov on the shoulder two times signing him to leave immediately.

As a handful of trucks speared toward the harbour the rest of the officers leaned in closer so they could hear Zaitsov's orders over the loud noise that the trucks made as they departed. "The rest of us will head for the main government buildings in the centre. Friendly infiltrators have compromised key places of entry in the government buildings, but always be alert for potential hostility from the republican guards. Their confusion is our main ally, they will not automatically shoot fellow republicans. Use a ruse to persuade them we are there to help. If they remain hostile be the first to strike, but try and avoid bullets as much as possible. Bullets draw attention and I am instructed to minimize the republican-on-republican violence.", Zaitsov paused for a moment and then looked at the emotionless Spetsnaz commander in front of him. "Spetsnaz will lead with the support of two platoons in their rear for the main building and one near Holt's residence. The rest of us will set a security perimeter around the buildings until the extraction is successfully completed. I want the targets to be out of this city within the next two hours. Two platoons will escort the targets back while the remainder of the company will asses the situation at that point. Getting President Holt is absolute priority, with him Operation Extraction stands or falls. Good luck comrades.", Zaitsov said as he turned around jogging towards his truck and flicked his cigarette away.

Once he arrived in the truck he addressed his radioman: "Get in contact with the HQ in Dubra and give them the locations of the checkpoints on the road back that might pose a problem for the convoy when it returns. Request them to clear the checkpoints within the range of Dubra and Féin that seemed hostile. I don't want them slowing down the extraction." The trucks departed racing into the streets of Milesia's provisional capital. The trucks had republican markings and were more than not seen as allies by confused looking soldiers on the streets. The convoy had already speeded past two checkpoint as a third one, already triggered by the uproar nearing then, was preparing for whatever was coming for them. Once they saw the trucks they looked confused and distrustful, their weapons at the ready. The Kadikistani platoon commander of the second truck made a quick decision and knocked his fist on the side of the door. About 80 meters before the checkpoint the sail of the truck was removed, exposing a 50.cal heavy machine gun mounted on its top and on the sides. The heavy rounds of the technical piercing through the checkpoint pre-emptively eliminated the treat the checkpoint might form. Maybe they would have been able to drive past them without a shot being fired, but the platoon commander in charge of the second truck wasn't taking any chances. "Shit", Zaitsov said as he watched the drive-by happen two trucks ahead of him. But he still had hope that the confusion would continue among the republican soldiers in the city. As they drove past republican soldiers several Milesian collaborators shouted things such as: "We are under attack by Ivernian infiltrators in the northern suburb!" in an attempt to further confuse and potentially distract republican forces away from the government buildings.

Soon both Zaitsov's as well as Komorov's group would arrive. There was no telling how the republicans in the centre would react and how fast the buildings would be cleared. Just like there was no telling if Komorov's men could install themselves in the harbour before the SWR ships would arrive.

 

[Ivernia]

Private Dermott Keegan was running through the Dungarvin woods, in the battle that had just lost Vedrarfjord. People around him were screaming, some even ditching their rifles in an attempt to flee faster. Peadar, his oldest friend in this war, was losing his breath fast. Dermott could see Peadar begin to lose pace with him. He knew Peadar was falling behind.

An artillery shell landed in the forest ahead of Dermott, the old growth deciduous trees groaned and burst, raining shards of wood like shrapnel on all the men, all of whom near the impact instantly died. Pieces hit Dermott's face and slashed him. He kept running, blood running down his forehead. His forehead, his eyes were stinging. Dermott stumbled over the roots that carpeted the old forest. He felt like they were clawing at him, trying to catch hold of him, but did not lose his sprint.

''Dermott! Dermott!!'' Peadar was calling behind him. An artillery shell fell behind the young Private. He would have heard the screams if the sound of the shell did not deafen him. He was knocked off his feet. The roots began to crawl over him. When he fought them off and stood up he could no longer see his friend. He kept running.

He ran clear out of Dungarvin Forest and ran up to his position in the battle of Vinegar Hill in Oileáin Na Tríonóide. It was the dead of night. He crouched down low and held his rifle close to his chest. The now-Corporal was with a fellow survivor of Dungarvin, Cormac, trying to take a fuel depot. Bullets flying as the men were outnumbered. He was moving up the hill in darkness. Suddenly a flash of light, the bright obnoxious halogen lamps all blew up around the base he was infiltrating. Dermott was completely blinded. The Imperials had detected them and opened fire. Before Dermott even had a chance to retaliate he was shot.

The bullet sunk into his shoulder. He felt the pain immediately, adrenaline or no. It was searing. He fell to the ground and rolled off into a ditch. Then Dermott was falling.

Provisional Parliamentary House, Barracks of the Guard
Waesfjord
Self Proclaimed Milesian Republic

Dermott awoke. He was in his bed, drenched in sweat. The nightmares were more constant, more real. The young man was in a daze, not sure where he was.

Waesfjord. The last bastion of the Milesian Republic. He remembered those early days in his hometown of Vedrarfjord. Those cold December days where he organised the Columbanus movement.

He had fought in Dungarvin and fled through the woods as the ''Thunder God'' Imperial General pounded the forest with artillery, to punish those Republicans who were escaping. He had fought in the battles of Oileáin Na Tríonóide and escaped the wipeout at Wallis Port. When he reached the mainland, escaping the islands he was in Nemedia. Many of his comrades gave up the mantle of the White Dove there and then. Decided to eek out what life they may, and forget the Columbanus Movement. It was there that Dermott almost found his fate. To leave Milesia to its fortune and live out his life, quietly, in Ivernish lands not yet torn by war.

And yet he did not. He was not content. He was not content with Ivernia and how it was, when he knew what Ivernia could be, what the commonborn of Ivernia had the potential to be. He returned to Milesia, crossed the border blockades and entered the ''Provisional Capital'' of Waesfjord. He was hailed a war hero and made a member of the Waesfjord Guard.

This was his lot in life now. He would stand in proud uniform, protect President John Holt and the ministers, and sleep in a terrible fit as his memories of war found him in his dream.

Dermott Keegan was not a soldier. He was a student in the University of Vedrarfjord. He had a life of scholarship and academia ahead of him. That would never come to pass now. Vedrarfjord was now returned to the Ivernish Empire. His role in the formation of the Columbanus Movement would brand him a traitor. If he tried to establish his life again, he would find himself at the end of a firing squad.

He walked over to a basin in the barracks and washed his face with a wet towel. As his fingers rolled over his face he could feel the marks of many battles. When he took his shirt off he could see the prominent scar left by the bullet in his shoulder. His shoulder still did not work fully, and felt limited. No small wonder he was now in this essentially ceremonial job. He looked away from his own body, and put on the uniform.

The temporary Parliament in Waesfjord was in a state of extreme degradation. The hallways Dermott walked down were dirty, dusty and in disrepair. There were no niceties or furniture, it had all been burned for firewood during the winter. The wallpaper was all pulled off too, leaving many of the walls bare. This building once was the local government building, now was only fit for purpose of a barnhouse. Dermott took his position, outside of President Holt’s Boardroom. Through a thin door he could hear the debate being held of the men within. About the offer made by the man from the Socialist World Republic. It was not going well. Many of the men declared the war a lost cause, fearing the end of Ivernish Republicanism. It was difficult to push Ivernish Republicanism, they argued, after the experience of an imperial firing squad. The SWR agent certainly had proved to have made a great impression on this Government.

Dermott was there when the illusive man spoke to the President. He listened to the offer made of escaping the Republic and rebuilding anew in the Socialist World Republic. President Holt did not give an answer though, rather stated he needed to speak with his cabinet.

The man from the SWR was not idle in waiting for John Holt’s response however. He and his agents evangelized the ''exodus'' plan to many other members of the Milesian Republic in the following days. Word spread like wildfire among the officers and the intellectuals who formed the Columbanus movement and even some of the men who declared the Republic to begin with, began to muse their options. Even Dermott was canvassed by one such evangel. He had to say, the man was very convincing. He promised him passage ''to a new world, a land of the free.'' It was hard for Dermott to imagine it. He was described, in detail, the various freedoms of the SWR. The freedom on literature and film. The right to be free from Kings and Emperors. The food. So much colour in its cities of wide streets and tall buildings. So far away from here. Dermott spend his entire shift in these thoughts. The arguing from the men became loud, then almost terse. But Keegan couldn’t hear them - because he wasn’t listening anymore. When he was returning to the guards' quarters it was like he had tunnel vision. He could no longer see the decrepit walls or the dust and dismay. He could see shining waters and a grand city of liberty, like he had read about in the University books.

The offer still stood. The agent, through the use of Republican Navy, were moving men and women, families of all positions in the Republic out to the international waters. The Naval Officers have all intended to leave. One of which, a friend of Dermott, stated a place was waiting for him tonight, if he was to take it and leave the High Kingdom of Ivernia.

Dermott was standing over a suitcase with his belongings inside. Many other members of the Republican Guard were leaving for the ships, packing their clothes and books and money into cases, burlap sacks or just balled up, so much were the men in a rush. Others, who were choosing to ''remain loyal,'' simply looked on at this event. One of the men shouted about how they had all sworn to die for the republican cause. Dermott saw through their ''loyalty.'' Too defeated and conditioned by war to ever think of starting anew. What they claimed was honour was only men with broken spirits.

The ship would leave by 10pm. He checked his watch, 8pm. If he was to start again, It was now his choice to make.

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Provisional Parliamentary House
Waesfjord
Milesian Republic

The so called 'Andrew Smith' looked at the corpse before him for a long time. His hands were shaking and he tried to calm himself by giving them something to do, lighting up another cigarette. Cigarettes were in short supply throughout the Milesian Republic, just like most things were. In difference to potatoes, though, which could be grown locally, tobacco was dependant upon milder climates. His habit of almost constantly smoking thus easily distinguished 'Smith' from the locals and gave him an aura of almost preposterous affluence. Of course, his cigarettes had been supplied to him by his Department in what could only be described as criminally irresponsible for a secret operation. However, they also helped in convincing some more of the Republicans that leaving for the SWR might not be that a bad idea after all.

Convincing the Republicans that the fight was lost and they should go into exile, that wasn't the big difficulty in his mission. But this? 'Smith' recognized the corpse in the middle of the presidential office as one of his men. 'John Smith' had been his alias to the Milesians, but 'Andrew' happened to know his real name: Matthew Hamilton. They had known each other ever since 'Andrew' had done his tour of duty with the military. He and Matthew hadn't been close friends or anything, but still, he had known him as loyal, capable and friendly. A good man, who had lost his life during a mission that was supposed to involve zero casualties. And had he not been busy coordinating several operatives throughout the city, 'Andrew' would probably lie dead on the ground, like the two other guards the SWR had assigned to the president of Milesia.

The identity of the attackers was unknown, but it didn't matter either, 'Andrew' felt. They had struck Waesfjord quickly and abducted President Holt and several of his government's members, vanishing before any efficient resistance could be organized. Truth be told, the Occidentians had made it easier for the attackers to succeed: the offer of the SWR had been spread throughout the city and beyond by now and many wanted to leave sooner rather than later. Numerous soldiers had already abandoned post, including members of the guard, leaving the President without adequate protection. Wherever that man was now, him being there was 'Andrew Smiths' personal failure. The SWR had promised to get him out of here and instead he had been kidnapped by god knows who.

Still, it wasn't going to change anything. The operation would advance uninterrupted. 'Andrew Smith' would assemble the remainders of the government, the ministers and officials who had evaded the attack and the PDI would help them form a working body to coordinate the evacuation. Officers and soldiers would be required to stay at their post, rather than leaving hastily out of fear of missing an opportunity. The frontlines had to remain stable while the evacuation was proceeding. Units needed to make an orderly retreat or many of the weakest of the Republican movement, the wounded, the elderly, the women and children, would fall victim to chaos.

The Port
Waesfjord
Milesian Republic

The first ship of the operation to reach the port of Waesfjord was the RNS Hopetown, named after a district of the city of Alexandria. It was a troop transport, a little elderly maybe, but with plenty of space. Fair enough for the task ahead, at least, as the SWR planned to fill the ship to the brim with Republicans and ship them to the west, where they would either settle permanently or, perhaps, be of use to the long-term strategy of the World Republic.

Either way, the SWR did not actually plan to take in people at random. It had clear priorities and grouped people according to their profession and the role they had played during the civil war. High profile targets, the top priority for extraction, had been identified beforehand by agents of the Peoples' Department of Intelligence. Leader and spokespeople of the revolution, important scientists and academics, influental union organizer or journalists, even some artists - they all would not have to contest with the general public for place on the RNS Hopetown or any of the other ships of its kind following in her wake. They would be picked up directly with helicopters, which had already departed from the light carriers of the Second Great Sea Fleet.

Down at the docks, the SWR had planned to set up checkpoints, giving preferential treatment to skilled workers, technical professionals, officers and other members of the educated middle classes, as well as their families. However, as the Navy Infantry departed the ship to assume position, they came under fire, leaving several men dead or wounded by the docks while the remainder seeked cover before attempting to identify the source of the attack, return fire and call for reinforcements.

The attack was utterly unexpected - the mission of the SWR had been pitched to regional powers as purely humanitarian in nature - but it would at worst delay the evacuation. SWR forces had arrived slightly armed, small detachments of Navy Infantry onboard the troop transports, intended not for battling any enemy but rather for controlling the expected crowds by the docks. Still, they were trained soldiers and there was more where they came from. Once Admiral Carpenter, commanding officer of the entire operation, had been informed of the ambush, he had diverted several helicopters to carry reinforcements to Waesfjord, while contacting his intelligence officers on the ground to request support by Republican forces.

Neither him nor his forces were aware at this point that what they were fighting was fifty Kadikistani soldiers. Within a few hours, however, these would be caught between Occidentian Navy Infantry advancing from the docks and Milesian forces coming in from the central city, both supported by air.

One can only wonder how they would have reacted had they realized that the ships leaving Waesfjord just prior to the arrival of the SWR were not headed for a military operation. The Milesian Navy had, in fact, decided to make a bail, taking their families and numerous other people along with them. Had the Kadikistani fired upon had they realized where the ships were headed, sailing out into international waters and hoping to make it to the Free States?

Off the Milesian coast
International Waters

"We're coming aboard!"

The small boat full of Occidentan sailors closed in on the Milesian ship, boarding it. They were instantly greeted by a number of tired, but happy faces in ragged clothing. One of the men distributed chocolate to the Milesians, while the group as a whole pushed its way through to the bridge. There they met the captain, as intended.

Admiral Carpenter had sent his men over to the Milesian ship to gather information, establish what kind of support was needed and coordinate with the captain so they would make their way to the SWR. The ship itself was in a fair enough condition and would easily make the ride across the Great Ocean. What was needed was supplies and fuel to ensure the ship and everyone on board would reach their destination alive. Not that this was any problem, the fleets of the SWR had brought plenty of both food and fuel, ready for a lengthy operation in the SWR.

A small detachment of Occidentan officers would stay on board the vessel and help it reach its destination: Newport in the Free State of Virentia. There the Milesian would receive fresh clothes, a small amount of cash, some directions to get them started in their new home and, most important of all, citizenship. The Milesian ship - and any other of its kind that would be picked up in international waters and guided westwards over the course of the next days - would be seized by the SWR and put to good use.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Chagny

Smoke drifted from between the Grand Duke's lips as he stubbed out a cigarette. The Conseil d'Etat had been meeting for hours; maps and papers spread over the long table. "As the Milesian ship has sunk, the rats have come out of their holes" said Count Claude Darc, the Dean of Staff. Darc was clearly referencing the communist incursions. Andre Dampierre, the Foreign Minister narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat. "We need to stop skirting the issue gentlemen. On one hand we can openly oppose the rebellion in the support of stability. This will reflect poorly on republicans across the globe. However, Ivernia is in danger of a serious communist takeover. The Milesian Republic likely in the future would be hijacked by these communists. Our intelligence suggests their strength is growing. I would suggest that our continued air and other support be framed in the light of defending against communism, not defending a crown" he said. The Grand Duke put up a hand, at which point the room became silent. "It is not my policy to be against communism" the Grand Duke said calmly. The room remained quiet as the Grand Duke leaned back. "Anything we do is now...........in defense of regional stability". A few glances were exchanged. Narcisse Greuze, the Defense Minister leaned on his elbows. "So what kind of defense will this be?" Greuze said, cynically. The Grand Duke did not show any visible annoyance but sat straight and looked Greuze in the eye. "Total" said Maximilien.


Lowport

Burgundian airstrikes were becoming a near constant aspect as they pounded areas around Lowport and along the corridor. A constant rotation of flight was being implemented despite some losses. The fighting around Lowport was gathering intensity as Gramelski began to ready his troops for the inevitable onslaught. Positions were strengthened and ammunition was stockpiled. He had a keen eye for detail and runners were constantly sent between positions while the radio squawked nonstop.
Across town, Granche’s finger squeezed the trigger of his FNR52. The rifle slammed into his shoulder as another round hit the building across the street, the round catching a corner of the window’s shutter but ultimately passing in. Granche ducked as a spatter of submachine gun fire came back at him. Motioning to the sergreant, Granche dropped his magazine and slid a rifle grenade onto the barrel. He took a deep breath before leaning in the window. The rifle grenade thumped off the barrel. It was only perhaps a second before dark gray dust appeared after the grenade exploded in a stairwell just behind the shooter. The battle for the actual city was beginning to take shape but even Granche knew they were on the clock. Eventually, the real assault on the city would begin and, looking around at his troops every morning, knew things would be dicey. The city was again quiet as night began to set in. Only the occasional thumping of mortars and artillery filled the city. Granche stumbled into the cellar of a half bombed out two-story house which served as the company headquarters. His body covered in dirt and brick dust. Another exhausing day on the line had sapped his strength. He read several reports from platoons and sighed. He pulled a bottle of whiskey from beneath his cot, pulling the curtain which divded his hutch from the bustle of headquarters. He drank it straight, without emotion as he listened to the radio rattle every few minutes. As the low quality Ivernish liquid filled his stomach he struggled not to sob. His staff were just feet away. Biting his lip, he corked the bottle. He was biting so hard he tasted blood.