Welcome to the Valanian Empire, Please do enjoy your stay.

[Valintina]

Suburbs of DuVall, Valania.



Arturo Bargas sat at the dining table, in his military uniform. Looking to his right, his son Arturo Jr. sat, elaborating on the young man’s day. The fourteen year old continued, “So we finally got to shoot the service rifle!”

Arturo smiled, proud of his son to partake in such activities with the Youth Scouts. The son still wore his uniform, eerily reminiscent of a bygone organization. The father grinned, remembering his time in the Youth Scouts. A scouting organization that focused on the physical and mental development of the growing children. Junior recently reached the age which the scouts began training on standard service weaponry and tactics. The smile on the teenager’s face was obvious as his father asked, “The Grando is a good rifle, no?”

“Yes Father, it is a good rifle. It was surprisingly softer than the bolt action rifles,” he replied, “Say father, when can we go shooting together next time?”

“Yes father, when can we?” squeaked a twelve year old girl to Arturo’s left. His daughter wanting to join in on the fun.

“We will my children, we will. Sometime soon I hope. Working for our nation’s defense is rather tiring. How about tomorrow after school?”

To which the siblings started looking at each other excitedly. The wife of Arturo popped out from the kitchen carrying a ceramic pan. With speed and grace, she set it on the small dinner table and took the top off. Maria leaned over to her husband and gave a kiss, setting aside the hot top and finally sitting down opposite of Arturo. Arturo Junior began reaching for the enchilada before his hand was smacked by a disapproving mother. His father smirked while Maria said, “Are you forgetting something?”

“Oh, yes. Grace. Shall I?” asked Junior, in an effort to make up for his forgetfulness.

“Yes,” said the mother as each family member began their ritual, holding each other’s hands as the son began.

 

[Valintina]

Balencia High School, DuVall


Silva Tarin sat upright in his chair, wearing his black uniform. He had already graduated from the regular Youth Scouts “Con Respecto,” one of the highest titles to be granted at the age of 18. The black uniform a symbol of his success, for very few attain such honors. Around him were students sitting at their desks in their appropriate uniforms. Some khaki to represent the standard Youth Scouts, those who would not graduate with honors but pass. Few wore gray to represent the Fleet Air Arm, their choice in joining the men and women who worked on airplanes. Others an olive drab color to represent the Marines or Army. It didn’t matter much which of the two branches one joined, for the Army was a reserve force from which the Marine Corps draw from for manpower.

At the front of the class, the teacher kept talking about the Balencia Civil War and the tactics involved in it, along with equipment. He continued, “…and so Roberto Geralisso Balencia, in conjunction with the House of Calonè, had to do what in order to defeat the House of Alercion?”

To which multiple hands raised, including Silva’s. The teacher pointed out a student and said, “Giorgio?”

“They destroyed all the bridges surrounding Esturo?” Giorgio said, unsure.

“A half answer is not a complete answer. I will give you credit, but next time try to fully understand what measures were taken. You will be given a question like this regarding tactics that requires several paragraphs,” said the teacher in a condescending tone before resuming, “Silva, do you have the complete answer?”

Silva spoke up, “Yes. Roberto Balencia did indeed destroy the bridges around Esturo, in an effort to cut off supplies and reinforcements from Cabaneiro. However, Balencia failed to account for the nearby river. The House of Alercion were able to sneak in supplies via upturned rowboats since the river was deep enough, and at night. As a result, the siege lasted longer than several months until they managed to sack Cabaneiro and found out about this tactic. In a twist, they resumed the plan and were able to strike Esturo from the inside.”

“That is the most thorough answer I have heard in a long time Silva. I must ask though, are you planning on joining the Officer Corps School?”

“I have been requested by the Headmaster of the Officer Corps, and I do plan on attending. In fact, I leave tomorrow for the school.”

“Well best of luck to you then Mister Silva,” he said, “Now as to the defeat of the House of De Haro, who here can tell me what was employed to force negotiations?”

Silva’s mind went to other places as he stared at the chalk board. It was only one more day until he would be on a train to Cabaneiro for the Officer Corps School. He has desired the opportunity to graduate from the Officer Corps and prove a very capable leader in the service of his nation.

 

[Valintina]

Diego Navarro, leader of the Valanian Empire, sat in his chair listening. Across from him were several members of the Congress. It seemed weird having a fascist government with a congressional system, but for some magical reason it worked. Granted Diego may be the elected leader by congress and holding the most power. It was the threat that he could be deposed if his actions were unsatisfactory, thus the true power was held by the politicians elected from their representative territories and municipalities.

He listened to the concerns some of the politicians were making, a total of seven present. One was concerned about the expansion of the Youth Scouts, citing that there was not enough room for their training in certain areas. Another said that women should gain equal status as men in the workforce, and so bickering commenced. Diego just sat in his ornate wood chair, massaging his left temple with two fingers. It commenced until he shouted and slammed his left hand down on the arm, "SILENCE!"

The room quieted enough to the point where a pin drop could be heard. The President-Elect raised up and ran a hand through the jet black hair. He resumed, "While I understand the concerns of the Youth Scouts, women wanting equality, and the suppression of those godless communists who keep trying to raise a stink. First of all, we have dedicated Youth Scout camps in the countryside, just make the entire Middle School and High School program part of it. Let it absorb the Education Department."

"But woul-," complained one of the congressmen. He quieted down when Diego shot a dirty look, along with some of his peers.

"I understand, but the problem is that the teachers are starting to turn out like those communists. How many of those communists were teachers when they started protesting in Esturo? Some of them were even students. This is how they begin to cripple our nation, through the children. The Youth Scouts turn out dedicated and productive future citizens. We want dedicated and productive people, no?" he asked, softening his face and showing concern.

"Y-yes," stuttered the complainant before raising another issue, "Wouldn't that further politicize education?"

"Another legitimate concern, no doubt," Diego replied, "If at all, the teachers should be proud. It's uplifting them to a higher position of prestige. Those who refuse to take part in this transformation have no future as a teacher. They are literally refusing to take part in what is guaranteeing a brighter tomorrow. They will be washed out, and then replaced with more dedicated individuals. Now the next issue touches with women's rights. Female children and teens will go to their separate Youth Scout campuses, from which their education will have a emphasis on science, technology, engineering, and mathematics as always. Their physical activities will remain the same as men's to promote fitness and to fight off invaders, as it has always been since the Youth Scouts were brought to fruition. Equality should never have been an issue in the first place."

"Some women are wanting to join the military I heard," stated another man. The resulting responses ranged from chuckles to outright laughter, even Navarro himself was trying to hold back a tear of joy.

 

[Valintina]

Silva Tarin sat in a rather large auditorium, wearing the same black uniform as the rest of his class mates. It was an Officer's School, and uniforms were harshly regulated. It was every bit like the military whom the attendees will go into. Up front on the stage was a rather distinguished and middle-aged man, Octavius Ruiz. Easily identified by an eyepatch over the left eye. A long scar ran across his left cheek, starting at the jaw. A memento from his fencing years. Grey could be seen crawling up the sides of his hair, slicked back and kept within military regulations.

He gave a lecture, "Welcome to the Officer Training School, or the Officer Corps as it should be referred to. If you thought the Youth Scouts would prepare you for this, you thought wrong. We will hold you to the highest standards you will have ever known. You will only piss, shit, eat, sleep, and even scratch your ass when we say so. There are no second chances, there are no warnings. You screw up, you are washed out. You even are suspected of breaking regulations, you are out."

Silva sat in his seat, an itch started to develop behind his ear. He focused entirely on the lecturer, "If it isn't already obvious, you are training to become an officer. You will become the shining example that all Marines will look up to. You will discipline them as needed. This is your first year of this institution, you will go further in depth to maintain your unit. Your unit will be a squad of eight to twelve men. You will be there to organize them as you see fit. However, it is not their responsibility to pass your ass. It is yours alone."

Octavius breathed out a sigh and then resumed, "After you graduate your first year with the platoon, you will be bumped up to Company level command. You will be tested once more like the previous. If you wash out the first year, back into the regulars you go. If you wash out the second year, you will retain your position and be assigned to your appropriate unit. It only becomes harder. Many of you will fail the second year. Now, Dismissed!"

With that, every trainee got up from their seat and headed to their assigned dormitories for the day.

 

[Valintina]

Townhall, Esturo


Emilio Frabricio was part of the protest at Esturo. A teacher among the many of his same profession and students who attended. The students were rebels, refusing to wear their uniforms of the Youth Scouts. Just in front of the crowd was the town hall, guarded by armed marines. Their Grando rifles held in a presenting manner as a show of force. The protesters kept chanting, "We want social democracy, we want social democracy!"

Emilio just stood there in the crowd, granted he supported the ideals of a social democracy and having better ties to rather socialist nations. But lately the crowd has gone a little wilder then before. Some within have resorted to throwing glass bottles at the local law enforcement and jumping on cars. Just a little off in the distance, he could see regular uniformed officers dragging some of the protesters off. It was clear that they did not tolerate unruly people, much less those who seek to damage property. However, others ganged up on the officers to free their brethren. Then everything went sour, glass bottles and bricks were thrown.

Gunfire erupted from the Marines and into the crowd streams of hot lead flowed. Emilio began to panic, not know what to do. He ran in the opposite direction of the gunfire. His feet keep going as fast as possible within the fleeting crowd, until he felt a searing pain go through his right ribcage. His lungs began to fill with blood, but he kept going. One foot in front of the other, slowing down steadily until he began coughing up blood. The lack of air reaching his bloodstream made him pale, and he collapsed. His eyes saw creeping darkness, his final thoughts were blank, breathing slowly until it all came to a stop.