Over the Hills and Back (completed)

BEACONSFIELD, KINGDOM OF PRYDANIA // COLONEL (COL.) BRUNO VALIS, EXPEDITIONARY FORCE ONE (EXFOR-1), MOUXORDIAN MARINES

After some charades with a very confused Prydanian soldier and subsequently waving over a translator, Colonel Vidas was guided to where the Prydanians had set up shop for their hunting operations in Beaconsfield. The Colonel didn't speak Prydanian. He was hoping to whatever gods above that this Colonel Bech spoke Mercanti, which Vidas did speak. Bruno dothed his uniform's headwear as he entered the building, and followed the Prydanian Private as he continued to guide the Mouxordian entourage. "Captain," Bruno growled back at his Junior Officer leading the squad that was protecting him.

"Yes, Colonel?" the Captain asked as he caught up to the grizzled man.

"The Prydanians are on-point, and I don't expect any sort of combat to be had here, but stay alert. No need to show them we'll get lazy when we think it's all cozy," Vidas said lowly, "And bring me my damn vest and helmet."

"Aye, sir," the Captain chuckled, then slowed his pace to relay the instruction to his Sergeant. Vidas turned his attention back to the doors that undoubtedly led to Colonel Bech. Now all there's to do is plan patrols and flush out these syndicalists.

---

HADDENFIELD INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, KINGDOM OF PRYDANIA // CHIEF PETTY OFFICER (CPO) BRANKO MATENDA, CONSTRUCTION BATTALION, MOUXORDIAN NAVY

Chief Matenda took a swig of water from his canteen, sitting awkwardly on the rear bumper of the water truck as his team rotated with another to take their break. He looked out at the airport, the rest of the battalion working diligently at different parts. From patching holes in the runways, to setting up technical systems for aircraft identification and control, to rebuilding hangars and passenger terminals, the Mouxordian Navy was helping the Prydanians in whatever ways they could. They'd start with the most important stuff and work down from there. They'd been dropped off much earlier in the day by the Marines, escorted en route, before they'd left with the Prydanians and Goyaneans to root out more syndicalist holdouts in Beaconsfield. Granted, the construction battalion could hold their own - they were trained and proficient in the art of firearms just like everyone else - it was simply more convenient to travel as a convoy.

The man paused briefly, directing his attention to the far-off sound of erupting small-arms fire. He frowned. The syndicalists were still putting up a fight, unwilling to abandon their cause. Quite honestly, Branko was surprised that fighting hadn't erupted around the airport already. Out of curiosity, he approached a small squad of Prydanians, who had secured a perimeter around the airport so that the battalion could work on repairs. "Hey," he said to the sergeant in his best Prydanian, "How far away is that?" He pointed lazily in the direction of the sounds of gunfire.

The sergeant smiled and looked back at him, then laughed. "Not too far away, Chief," he replied back, "I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you. The syndicalists haven't tried to assault the airport since we gained control of it months ago. They simply don't have the manpower."

"Alright," Matenda replied back, a little bit wary. He respected the Prydanians, they had been through a lot and surely knew more about the whole situation in their country leagues more than he did, but was doing his part in looking out for his team and the Prydanians' aloofness wasn't too reassuring. He didn't want to be sending anyone back home in a casket.

He trudged back to where his team was resting, sighing to himself as he watched the recently-arrived Thenacan aircraft taxi to various cargo terminals. Seemed like everyone was pitching in to help Prydania. Idly, the Chief wondered about who else was sticking their hand in the pot.

Inside TCP-10C&C (command and control), call-sign Mama Bird-01, October 3rd, 2017, a couple hours before present

The belly of the command plane hosted the majority of the Peace Helper Company. It was a rectangular space that was shared with a couple transport trucks, along with many tons worth of large crates that held MREs, bottled water, equipment, and other supplies needed to rebuild any community. To say it was cramped living, would almost be an understatement. Many took turns sleeping on what little floor was left, or their own seats while in flight.

Normally during the non-sleeping periods, you would hear a talkative crowd sharing jokes or stories, talking about the situation in Prydania, or even playing online games with each other.
But now they were refueling at a Silien airport, with most of them stretching their legs out and spending their own salary in the terminal. Except for a few who just wanted the peace and quiet, the pilot and co-pilot who needed to keep tabs on the refueling, and Captain Rebeca Williams.

Normally the Captain would be looking over a public map of Prydania, reading news-stories that came in just today, and both mentally and physically jotting down lines of attack- that is, how to best spread the supplies out to those who needed them. But in a vacuum of activity, just a couple hours away from hitting the front-lines, she simply rested.

Rebeca even looked at her personal locket, containing a photo of herself with her husband and daughter, smiling at a family photo-shoot. It was taken years ago, when she first became a Talon: The most elite military force in Thenaca. A combat medic, specifically.

When her bold request to create a brand new special-forces company, one specifically made for providing needed aid to anyone in the world, was finally taken seriously, it was a dream fulfilled for her. Now she looks at that locket, not with home-sickness, but with a drive to help other families just like hers, no matter their nationality.

---

Just off the ramp of a parked TCP-10C&C, Hadden International Airport, October 3rd, 2017, 7:06PM - present time

Now that the large birds have finally landed, it was time to get to the real work.

Captain Williams was standing on the loading ramp, watching the two trucks slowly come off of Thenacan metal and onto Prydanian soil. The other 11 birds had near-identical cargo, putting the total number of TCT-4s at 24.

But she also quickly noticed the welcoming committee of several Prydanian soldiers and extra jeeps and trucks. They would be very helpful for carrying the additional supplies without having to come back a 2nd round. She approached the nearest group of them and asked them in fluent Andrennian, a language she was advised most Prydanians know.

"Where is your commander?"

"Colonel Vidas?" Colonel Bech asked his Mouxordian counterpart in accented but fluent Mercanti as he held out his hand. His uniform, and the uniform of his men, was the standard Royal Prydanian Army uniform; khaki, faded, and worn-looking. Still, they had vests and helmets, though Bech's had obviously seen some action. He wasn't wearing any of the new stuff that had come in from Goyanes or Andrenne.

"Yes" Vidas responded in relieved Mercanti, shaking his counterpart's hand. "You must be Colonel Bech" he added.

"Right you are" he said in a pleasant, but slightly worn, voice. He spoke calmly, but you could tell it was a bit gravely. Likely to stir awake in a loud, proud booming cadence if provoked.
"The city centre's been secured. We routed the Syndicalists during the final days of the Civil War, secured Parliament and Absolan's Palace, and fanned back out." He motioned Vidas over to a desk and pulled a map from a stack of papers.
"What we're going to be focusing on is this neighbourhood here..." he pointed north of the city centre.
"Ossulstone. Residential and middle class. A lot of good folks there, but Syndicalists still have a few supporters. We need to flush them out. If we can get them out of Ossulstone? We can cut off the supply of weapons and personnel into the city..."

---

"Captain Hummel reporting" a young man of 28 replied, stepping forward with a salute. "Vortgyn Company, first Armoured Guards Division, second Home Army" he replied professionally.
"Anything you need, we can provide."

He sounded confident, but also nervous. He was clearly new to his command, such as it was. That was to be expected though. The Royal Prydanian Army, as it was constructed currently, was cobbled together from resistance cells and formally independent pro-Royalists militias. Still, he looked capable as he welcomed Captain Williams to Prydania.

---

Magnus Brandt was enjoying Xentherida. If nothing else it did provided for a welcome change of pace from the days of the Civil War back home in Prydania. His small but adequate apartment in Cosonia even had a nice view. Overlooking a small back street that none the less had a tavern with live music. It wasn't a view of the cityscape, but it was just as good in its own way. A small peak at the real Cosonia.
Still, he was troubled. Not over anything that happened in the PGU. Prydania was still only an observer, and his job as essentially a good-will ambassador for his nation's new government had yielded results. Normally he would be enjoying a quiet evening. Maybe reading a book with the faint sounds of the tavern providing pleasant background noise. Truth be told? That would probably be what he would be doing had he not gotten the letter he was reading. It wasn't an official dispatch from his government. No, it was a personal letter, from an old colleague of his in the Provisional Government. Still, personal or not, what it contained was alarming.

Prydanian politics was firmly a centrist affair these days. The failures of both the Fascist War and the Social Commonwealth regime had discredited the far right. Meanwhile the Syndicalist Party's mismanagement of the economy and collapse during the Civil War had discredited the far left.
The Provisional Government that had been formed following the coronation of Tobias III was officially non-partisan. Yet you could split the Cabinet between former Conservatives and Liberals. Magnus himself was a Liberal.
The King had promised free elections in three years, and the assumption was that the Conservatives and Liberals would face each other in that campaign. This letter said different.

Magnus,

I hope Cosonia agrees with you. Things just aren't the same now that you're gone from us.
I wish I could spend most of my time writing you remembering the old days, before madness devoured our country. Sadly, I cannot. I write to you with a purpose.

William Aubyn unveiled his plans for the election in three years' time. He intends to form what he's calling a "National Union" ticket. Its purpose is to be broadly centrist and attract former Liberal and Conservatives alike.

No doubt such a plan of action would have helped against the SoComs or Syndicalists back in the 1980s! Yet I fear for what it means to our fragile and fledgling democracy. Prydania has had quite enough of one-party dictatorships if you ask me. This "National Union" doesn't have that malice behind it, and yet I fear that's what it will become. The bloodied but still breathing bodies of the old blue and orange parties gives us something to build a true democracy out of. If William is allowed to join them at the hip? We will likely lose the chance for a viable, democratic opposition force for a generation.

I write you to keep you informed, so that you may know of this development before any sort of official announcement is made. You and I both saw our party crumble as dear Rowan was too overwhelmed to stop it. Please friend, let us not repeat his mistake, God rest his soul.

Respectfully,
Harold Daaé

Click to expand...

Magnus stroked his his chin, scratching his white whiskers. It was a clever move. William Aubyn could secure a democratic mandate for a decade at least if he managed to unite the former Liberals and Conservatives into one ticket.
Magnus knew William. And he knew he had fought and bled for the resistance movement against the Syndicalists. He wasn't going to accuse the man of trying to become a dictator. He was willing to believe that he was doing this with the best of intentions- to hold a new and fragile democracy together with united leadership. Still, he wasn't a naive man. Surely William understood how much he stood to gain.

He sat the letter down and picked up the phone, to call his chief assistant.
"Jon? It's Brandt. I need to be in Beaconsfield as soon as possible."

Rebeca saluted back - even smiling, considering that "Anything you need, we can provide." was supposed to be her line... Still, it seemed like he had just earned his bars, and she needed to remind him that she and her company were the guests, not Hummel and his troops.

"I believe we're the ones who require direction, Sir. I'm Captain Williams, and this is my Peace Helper Company, Thenacan Special-Forces. We're a combination of medical and engineering corpsmen, ready to assist with whatever emergency has befallen here, natural or man-made. Our uniforms are even color striped to tell the difference between the two corps. Red and blue, respectively."

To the other forces back home, the idea of color striping uniforms to tell the difference between two corps working in the same group seemed like a 'colorful' joke. But the puns and made up myths didn't faze Rebeca any. To her, the idea was simple and easy, the jokes simply being part of their uniqueness.

"Our only limit that I'll advise you about..." Rebeca began, pulling out her side-arm, and showing him the magazine - full of rubber-tipped rounds. "Is to try and keep us out of the active fighting. We'll jump into the fire if there's no other way around it, but only if necessary." She then holstered the pistol, finishing introductions.

"Now then. I have 97 men between 4 platoons ready to help your people and aid your nation's recovery. Along with 24 trucks, and many tons of food, water, equipment and other supplies ready to be shipped out upon your direction. I hope I've been clear enough, Sir. Shall we get started?" She finished, eager to help rebuild this hurting nation.

Krann looked at Skov and the communist prick who was wriggling around in his restraints. "Pull the rag off."

Skov took the rag off Mathiasson's face. Krann walked over to him and gave him a nice backhand. The sound of the slap resonated across the small, dark interrogation room.

"Now, you little bitch, you are going to tell me how you obtained these weapons, who is supplying you lot, and where are you lot based. If you don't tell me, Skov here is going to make you feel like you're strapped down to the bottom of a league-regulation swimming pool. You got me?"

---

1700 PRYDANIAN TIME
MESSAGE TRANSMITTED TO MILITARY HIGH COMMAND

--

This is Prydanian Aid Operations Command. Due to several security breaches and conflicts with syndicalist holdouts, we are requesting the aid of Navy ships stationed in Beaconsfield Harbor, and possibly the dispatching of more troops, and possibly some armor units. This is for the current evaluation and consideration of high command.

~Lieutenant Jonsson
~Major Nymeyer

Captain Hummel smiled and nodded..."we shouldn't have to deal with much fighting here. The Syndicalists don't have the numbers to attack us directly. They're using hit and run tactics out in the countryside mostly. We should be safe here and in the city."

He led Captain Williams over to a Royal Prydanian Army jeep and motioned for a map. He unfurled it on the jeep's hood. It was a map of the northeastern portion of the country, showing roads spanning out from Hadden.
"This city's serves as the nerve centre of the entire region. The Syndicalist commander during the war surrendered it rather than fight on when their lines collapsed. So it's still mostly intact. Along with the roads. The problem is going to transporting supplies to the towns. We have reason to believe that the Syndicalist threat here isn't as numerous as they may appear to be. They use hit-and-run tactics and they know the land."

He pointed to some light blue markers..."the Goyaneans are providing security along these routes. They'll keep us covered, and we'll be there to take the brunt of any fighting should the Syndicalists slip through their lines. That's certainly possible. As I said, they know the land. Thankfully..." he smiled, showing a bit more confidence, "so do we. We've been fighting them here since the War. There's nothing they can do that'll surprise us."

---

Skov removed the rag, turning to let the Sergeant do his job. He set the rag down and dried his hands with a handkerchief and straightened his cuffs.

Mathiasson gasped for air. His eyes were bloodshot and his muscles tense...he looked up at the Goyanean sergeant.
"I don't know who's giving us the weapons..." he flinched as he saw Krann move in response to that.
"I'm telling you the truth, I don't know! The commander just calls them 'our friends,' the boxes don't have any national markings on them!" He sensed that Krann was starting to listen...

"But you'll...you'll..." he noticed Skov grab the rag..."you'll find the Commander at Boulton..."

Skov nodded "small town, out of the way. I know it well enough."
He began to unstrap Mathiasson. "See Anders? Not so bad. And I wouldn't worry about talking. The war's over. Your lot just hasn't realized it yet."
He opened the cell door, and spoke to the guards. One of whom brought in a simple army cot, a pillow, and a blanket.

"We'll turn the lights off Anders. If we find anything of value? We might let you keep the bed."

---

I have been granted authorization form the topic starter to post in this thread

-Cimmerien

---

1620 Robinson Street
Adelaide, Cimmeria
Wednesday, 20 September 2017
13:15

It is the afternoon when Staedtler is sitting in his office at his official residence after returning from a session in the House of Commons.
He is doing paperwork when his Chief of Aide comes into his office to give him news.


“Mr. Minister, ther’s been a response from Prydania about the letter you sent.”

“Is that so? Let me see.”

The aide gives him the letter. He’s nodding as he reads over the content.

“So we can send our engineers, but not our armed forces?”

“I’ve been reading reports on what has been happening in Prydania, and it seems our forces aren't required. But I'd recommend arming our personal for self defense.”

“I see. I’ll bring this to His Majesty later. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. The foreign minister is requesting to see you about the current foreign policy. There's a cabinet meeting that must be set up, and your daughter needs your help with schoolwork.”

“I’ll get on it, and tell her I won't be able to help her right now. Is there anything else?”

“No sir.”

“Very well. You can leave now”

---

ICAFB Lexington
Lexingtonshire, Cimmeria
Thrusday, 21 September 2017
20:12

The transport planes begin to taxi themselves into the runway as they prepare to fly to Prydania. The four transports contain considerable amounts of aid, including medical supplies, food, water, etc. In addition, the troops being sent are members of the Imperial Army Corps of Engineers, which aren't a regular military unit, but may defends themselves if necessary. In the cockpit, the plot of the first transport is waiting for the order to take off from the runway.

“This is Maroon 1, we’re at the runway. Requesting permission to take off.”

“Maroon 1, this is the control tower. You are clear to take off.”

He begins to speed up the cargo plane before he lifts off. He continues to go climb until he reaches peak altitude after take off and is far enough away from the airway.

“Altitude restrictions are cancelled. Good luck.”

“This is Maroon One. Roger.”

The other two begin to follow the lead plane one by one as they begin to embark on their journey to Prydania.

Rebeca looked over the map, taking in all the points Hummel mentioned. The strategist in her mind went to work, drawing up scenarios and what would be the best course of action using current info.

"Would your troops agree to forming up as several convoys with my company? We can have your transports take up what's left in the planes, then we'll meet up in the city and form supply convoys to the countryside. That way the enemy will only get one chance to ambush us, if they try to, en-route."

---

At around the same time, TSIC, Davenport AFB

Ever since Peace Helper Company left Fort Talmain, the fine folks at the Thenacan Space and Intra-solar Command had been working to bring the C&BSC (command and battle-space control) satellite into position over Prydania to provide a map of the nation. The map would create an accurate rendering of the ambient environment, while ground-side computers and drones tracked unit positions.

In typical combat conditions, strobe beacons carried by vehicles and troops, in conjunction with sensor-drones and a command vehicle provided friendly troop formations. While enemy units could be marked by regular laser designators. This kind of info would be valuable to a tactical or strategic leader of any level, and usually showed up on said leader's electronic map or battle-HUD. But for Rebeca, it was just nice to keep track of her people.

"Battle-space map coming online in 3... 2..." said one of the satellite operators, confirming the satellite was in position and ready to provide that map.

---

Back to Hadden International Airport

Some of the engineers were starting up the drones. Light, compact-able, and long lasting, they held domed panoramic cameras that captured a wide circle around them. That video data is then delivered back to the command-plane's computers and sent back into the e-maps and HUDs as real-time updates.

Rebeca's radio suddenly crackled to life, in Mercanti. "Archangel, this is Mama Bird-01, our Eye-in-the-Sky just blinked. The Nest here is also buzzing and the Bees ready to pollinate, over."
The number of code-words the Thenacan Airforce used sometimes became the topic of local comedians...

"Roger Mama Bird-01, tell TSI Command I said thanks, over-and-out." she replied (also in Mercanti), bringing out her e-map for Hummel to see.

It was no bigger than a large sized touch-screen pad, but it was built to last, and the info it gave was accurate and a great boon. It was currently centered on the airport, showing a 3D layout of the terrain and every building in sight. Within the range of ground-side sensor-cameras, Thenacan trucks, planes, and personnel showed up as light blue-colored figurines, while civilian, Mouxordian, and Prydanian personnel and vehicles showed up as simpler gray blips.

"A full real-time 3D battle-map. Like something out of a video-game. Eh, Captain?" She joked.

Captain Laurids Hummel nods "that plan is sound" he replied with a little nod. Captain Williams' radio crackled before he could say anything else, and before he knew it the 3D battle map was up and running.

"A 3D battle-map. Like something out of a video-game. Eh, Captain?" Williams joked. All Laurids could do was to take the sight of it in, awestruck for a moment. He had been a member of the Royalist resistance for ten years, and they often had to use maps a decade or two old. Anything that could be stolen or, if they were lucky, something that was smuggled underground by Royalist officers who were able to stay one step ahead of the Syndicalists while they were seizing the reigns of power.

He stuck his hand out to point at a flashing blue icon representing a Thenacan truck.
"How much of a delay is there, usually?" he asked, still running his gaze over the display. The possibilities such tech could provide raced through his mind.

"The best performance we could get during tests was 100MS. Assuming reasonable distance and no interference, of course. It's still experimental tech." Rebeca explained. "Anyways, if we don't have any other details to iron out, I'd like to get moving while we still have some light left." She urged, referring to the setting sun as it was a quarter past 7PM already.

Getting on her radio again, "To all ground-personnel not driving a truck, get the rest of the boxes on these Prydanian trucks. And to those driving, get lined up and head to Hadden, we'll meet together and plan further from there. We need be out of this airport before 800 hours!" She barked (in Mercanti), and all 73 men (plus 24 drivers) complied and got busy again.

Hummel turned, speaking to one Lieutenant Overgaard in Prydanian.
"Get on the radio, form the convoy into the city. We're not taking any chances, even if we're not expecting any trouble."

"Yes Sir" Overgaard responded with a salute before fulfilling his CO's order.

Hummel returned his attention to Captain Williams.
"We're going to take the direct route into the city, straight for the stadium" he said. "Hadden wasn't too damaged during the War, so the stadium's still standing. We're using it as a central hub to store and then redistribute the supplies coming in. Once there we're formalize all travel routes out to the countryside."
He paused for a moment before asking "do you have anyone who knows how to read Prydanian?"

Captains Regent Nolasco and Captains Regent Montalvo were discussing the ongoing situation in Pyrdania following its civil war and the state of affairs in the nation with the Regents Conclave.

Regent Cordeiro was the first to speak up, "Prydania is a complete mess right now due to the civil war. We have the N.L.M. Castelani patrolling nearby Collandris to monitor maritime traffic in the Phoenix Strait following the rise in tension between the nation of Cogoria and the nations of the Phoenix Union. From what the sub has reported back, a large number of vessels have been reported as heading to Pyrdania. It is a safe bet to assume that this is to render aid and relief. Should we really get ourselves involved when there are already a decent number of nations there?"

Regent Estacio shook his head before responding, "Regardless of the situation and the number of nations rendering humanitarian aid, we should send our own. We do uphold ourselves to the cause of humanitarian interventionism in times of crisis at home and abroad, do we not?"

"That we do Senhor Julio and I back your idea that we should send humanitarian aid. However, we should do it both as a goodwill gesture and as a way to gather more intelligence on what is happening in Pyrdania and how the nation is rebuilding following the disastrous civil war that has done nothing but disrupt the daily lives of the citizens. I'm fairly certain that Senhora Lucia will back this idea since it will assuage any concerns that she may have about the potential blow back of putting our peacekeepers and aid and relief workers in a potentially harmful situation", replied Regent Morais before getting up from his seat at the table to pour himself some mead from the conference rooms bar.

Regent Hiza declined to comment and indicated that she would offer her backing to whatever plan was put forward and approved by the Captains Regent.

After taking a glass of mead from Senhor Aaron, Captains Regent Nolasco conferred with Captains Regent Montalvo briefly before addressing the Regents, "it's settled then. The two of us shall draft a statement to the Prydanian government offering humanitarian aid. Regent Hiza, inform the Merilian Navy to assemble a humanitarian fleet and put it on standby. I want that fleet fully stocked and ready to sail whenever we hear back from the Prydanians."

---

~:

To Prime Minister Aubyn of Prydania,

After much discussion, the Government of the Merilian League has authorized the dispatch of a humanitarian fleet of five ships should you accept the offer of aid and relief from our nation. The fleet shall consist of four transport ships carrying food and building supplies to help with the rebuilding and recovery of lost food and infrastructure and the hospital ship shall help tend to any wounded that may need more extensive medical services. The five ships, we imagine, would be a great boon to your people to help them in this time of need. As soon as either of us receive word of your acceptance of this aid and relief, we shall send the ships to Prydania to begin humanitarian aid efforts.

Regards,
Captains Regent Nolasco
Captains Regent Montalvo

Click to expand...

Clearing her throat. "Em... A... little bit?" Rebeca replied in Prydanian, awkwardly.

Switching back to Andrennian to explain further. "As a designated international response unit, being multi-linguistic is a requirement. How they fulfill this requirement is up to the recruit in question, whether Yeran, Demecian, or even Ninhundish."

She cleared her throat again. "I, for example, have tried High Cogorian." Spoken in the said language, likely confusing Hummel. But she switched back again. "So there may be two or three people who know Prydanian. But besides depth in study, we also place width in importance too. Basic phrases, like..."

Spoken in Prydanian again. "Where's... the bathroom?" Then Iralian. "Where's the... bathroom?" And finally Merilian. "Where's the bathroom?"
Before going back to Andrennian. "That is literally the first phrase all recruits learn, in all languages. No joke. But for most of my company, you'll probably have to have some of your people lead the convoys. Names and road-signs will probably prove more difficult, as you can imagine."

To Aubyn, The Prydanian Primeminister
After overhearing about the devistation in Northern Prydania caused by the recent civil war, the Government of Ninhundland has decided send aid and help with reconstruction if needed. Staying out was our first decision and we have no interest in this political struggle and repeating what happened last time we got involved in a conflict under Huhrmann is something this is far from what we want. We wish not to repeat our actions during the Crown Conflict and are asking for trust that we have learned from our last mistake. On behalf of the Ninhundish Government and our leader Brent Fauchern we hope that we can start on good terms and build a friendship with you as one of your Gotic Brothers.

With all respects,
Gödrich Eiselberg, Minister of Foreign Affairs


Inside his office Eiselberg sits at his desk consulting with the Ninhundish Ministry of Aid.

Hummel chuckled nodded. "I'll ride with you, and I'll have a soldier paired with each of your vehicles. Ideally you'll just follow the convoy but it's best to prepare for the eventuality of getting separated then getting separated and not knowing how to get back..."
Laurids called over Lt. Overgaard again, conversing as he laid out what he wanted done. When they were done he returned his attention to Captain Williams.

"The bathroom, eh?" he asked, chuckling. "I guess that makes sense. I'm afraid I'm not as proficient as you are. I only speak Andrennian and Mercanti in addition to Prydanian. The Provisional Government's been pulling everyone who knows Mercanti into service in some way to help with the relief efforts."

He enthusiastically brought his hand down on the hood of the Thenacian 6x6. "Let's go" he said in Mercanti.

---

"I still think it's risky, Harold" William remarked as the read the letter from the Merilian League. I have assurances from the Navy that the Stormhaven will be able to at least monitor the ships coming in...

"With all due respect, Mr. Prime Minister' Harold Daaé, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, replied. "If they attempt anything there's nothing we can do. There's little, if anything, the PGU forces here can do. If they do indeed attack. So given the situation we owe it to them to welcome them with open arms. And take them at their word."

"I just worry. When the Merilian League moves you best pay attention" the Prime Minister responded.

"I know William, but we've reached out to our brothers. Now we need to accept the other hands fate has brought to our doorsteps. As intimidating as the Merilian League is? We have an opportunity to forge a productive relationship with them."

William nodded. "I'll make the arrangements."

---

---

Erik Lind had spent the last fifteen years supervising the reconstruction of Prydania as more and more of it fell into Royalist hands. The work was simple at first. Syndicalism in the North was never terribly popular and Royalist control was able to be established relatively easily. The heartland of Syndicalist support, however, around the middle belt of the country? With the coal mines and the mills? The factories? That's where fighting was the hardest. And it''s where his job became truly difficult.

Now as Minister of Infrastructure? He finally had resources needed to do his job. Well in a way. Foreign governments providing aide in the form of infrastructure repair still had final say. Still, he wasn't scraping by with the bare minimum.

His own office in Parliament was small. Very basic. And yet it was the office King Tobias III had visited the most after the Prime Minister. Lind swore the young lad would have been a city planner if he wasn't King.

Lind just adjusted his glasses and leafed through some paper. He finally found what he was looking for in the controlled mess of papers the constituted his desktop. The direct number of Admiral Soka?, the highest ranking Mouxordian official in Prydania.

"Yes, Admiral. Minister of Infrastructure Lind here" he said in Mercanti. "Let's talk..."

---

To Prime Minister Aubyn of Prydania,

On behalf of my bosses, Captains Regent Nolasco and Captains Regent Montalvo, I am writing back to acknowledge your acceptance of humanitarian aid from the Merilian League. As such, the fleet has been dispatched and is currently underway to your nation to render aid and relief. On board the hospital ship is a small contingent of the 1st Crimson Berets out of Alcária overseen by Commander Marcos Alvarenga whose team shall be coordinating all humanitarian efforts. He is being aided by various aid and relief teams from the International Committee of Astari who have filled the four transport ships with pallets of food as well as various building materials to help rebuild infrastructure and buildings. I feel it wise to inform you of our policy concerning the arming of aid and relief personnel abroad wherein the status of having them armed with a small side weapon for personal defense is traditionally determined once the aid and relief teams arrive in country and the situation on the ground has been assessed. However, it is common for our aid and relief teams to be unarmed unless they are entering a very hostile area to render humanitarian aid. Should you have any questions or concerns, you can reach out to myself or either of my two bosses who would be more than happy to answer.

Regards,
Regent Hiza

TA MK-III Imperial Transport Squadron on course to Prydania
Sunday, 24 September 2017
09:30


The Maroon Squadron, or officially the 10th Group 142nd Transport Wing make their decent to Prydania containing the aid that is to be given to the affected nation. The pilot of the lead craft begins to contact the Prydanian as they make their decent on the airport.

"Attention control tower, this is Maroon One of the Imperial Cimmerian Air Force. We are approaching land containing supplies for aid. Repeat: We are approaching land containing supplies for aid. Requesting permission to land."

---

*TA - Transport Aircraft

Once more a Cogorian submarine slid towards the Prydanian coastline. This one however was slightly larger than the last one. Again towed close enough to the shore by a trawler, this time a different one to the last. There was no one to meet the cargo coming off it this time either, instead slipping silently ashore, ten men of the elite Special Training and Construction Battalion No.400 entered the country. They were armed with a careful selection of weapons for their tasks to come, and they aimed to achieve their goal of reigniting the socialist revolution no matter the cost. the small sub retreated back beneath the waves and reattached itself to the trawler. In a motley collection of civilian clothes the marched off into the hills, leaving only the mark in the sand left by the submersible behind them, and that too soon vanished as the lapping waves erased it.

"350km from destination, estimated time of arrival 19:35", after contacting the Ninhundish Minitry of Defence back home. While advancing closer and closer to Prydanian the scenes of a nation is wreck was real. This was the first time Eiselberg has ever been to this part of the world and had no idea what to except. While there were no military personal with him, armed and loaded weapons were stored in the back of plane in case of any emergencies that he hoped would never happen.

Finally the plane landed in Haland but there were only a few other planes there. It looked so empty and lonely. "We are here for one mission and that's to start on a good foot with the Prydanian Government.", said Eiselberg in Ninhundish. "There will be no military action used against the Prydanian officials or the rebels. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?" As the men nodded in agreement Eiselberg continued. "The equivalent in the back of the plane is for defence purposes only. As this nation has recently suffered a devastating civil war I do not wish to visit with no protection and self defence however we will not let our nation down and we will not dishonour the Ninhundish Government by starting any sort of violence."

Once he had finished talking he decided it was best to wait in the plane until contacted by either the airport ATC or the Prydanian PM.

---

"Maroon One of the Imperial Cimmerian Air Force," a voice responded in accented Mercanti, "you are cleared to land. Welcome to Prydania."

---

Lieutenant?Colonel Ole Kjær of the II Armoured Infantry Battalion waited as the Ninhundland plane landed. This was very much uncharted territory for Prydania. Leftover tensions from the Fascist War existed between Ninhundland and Prydania, and it was no secret what the Ninhundish government thought of monarchy as an institution.
Still, the had reached out. And the Prydanian government had reached back.

"Minister Eiselberg," he said in Mercanti with a salute. "Welcome to Haland."

Vidas strode up to the welcoming outstretched hand and clasped it strongly in his own calloused and grizzled grasp. "Yes, he replied in Mercanti, relieved, "You must be Colonel Bech."

"Right you are," he said in an upbeat but distinctly worn voice. Bruno could tell that the man, like he himself, had done his own fair share of yelling and barking out orders. War would do that to a man. "The city centre's been secured," the Colonel said, diving right into the business at hand, "We routed the Syndicalists during the final days of the Civil War, secured Parliament and Absolan's Palace, and fanned back out." The man pulled a map out from a stack of papers, setting it atop the desk and pointing at various locations, "What we're going to be focusing on is this neighbourhood here: Ossulstone. Residential and middle class. A lot of good folks there, but Syndicalists still have a few supporters. We need to flush them out. If we can get them out of Ossulstone, we can cut off the supply of weapon and personnel into the city."

Bruno nodded, eyes studying the map and working out strategic positions to place his divisions. He motioned with a hand and his Captain trotted up, handing him his vest and helmet in the process. "Take pictures of these locations," he ordered as he lifted the vest over his head and secured it to his body via the hook-and-loop straps, "We don't have any UAV coverage and we didn't bring any with us. Trust the Prydanians and always have at least of 'em that knows their way around. This is their country and they know it best. Flush out and route those damn Syndicalists, Captain."

The Captain merely smirked, "Aye aye, Colonel."

---

Admiral Soka? sat at 'his' (as much as a desk gifted to him for the duration of his visit and their help in Prydania could be declared as 'his) new desk, checking the reports that were laid before him on crumpled paper and scribbled in haste. The construction battalion at the airport was progressing well. Concerns about the proximity of the pockets of fighting were of notable concern, but not worthy of any sort of action beyond 'stay alert and turn to'. A cigarette hung between his index and middle fingers, where he flicked the excess ash into an ashtray the Prydanians were kind enough to provide for him. The phone on the corner of the hardwood surface nearly scared him out of his skin, so engrossed in his reports was he. He blinked away the shock and mild annoyance at having to receive a phone call so soon after being assigned the number, but hovered his hand over the receiver until its shrill bell rang for a second time.

"Ovo je Admiral Soka?," he said, forgetting what country he was in momentarily before correcting himself, "This is Admiral Soka?."

"Yes, Admiral. Minister of Infrastructure Lind here," the Prydanian Minister spoke in perfect Mercanti, "Let's talk."

Faust's eyebrows shot to the top of his graying hairline.

"Of course, Minister Lind," he said, clearing his throat, "Repairs on Haddenfield International Airport are proceeding slightly ahead of schedule. All that is left is the northwest quadrant of the airport and runway 21-left." The man sat for a moment before realizing that may have not been what the foreign Minister was interested in calling about, "Er, how can I help you today, Minister?"

Silently, the Admiral took a long drag on his cigarette. He had a feeling he'd be needing another couple packs to last him through this mission.

Captain Krogh looked over the streets of Ossulstone. The neighbourhood had seen better days. It had once been a thriving middle class community in the capital before the Civil War. It was looking better than it had been though, with signs of recovery. The rubble was mostly cleaned up, fresh coats of paint made a few houses look distinctly new and fresh.

His convoy, containing Mouxordian soldiers, slowed to a stop in front of a mostly nondescript house.
"That's the one" he said in Mercanti, not looking up as he double checked the report that had named this house as a Syndicalist safe house.
"A cat's hole" he added. "The Syndicalists use it and others like it to move in and out of the capital." He motioned to a Mouxordian solider to take his pictures as he hoped out of the 6x6 and stopped a fellow walking down the sidewalk. He positioned himself so that, from the viewpoint of the house, you could only see his back.

"Hey, have a smoke?" he asked the man in Prydanian. The man nodded "anything for a man in uniform" he said, offering him a cigarette.
Krogh offered him a friendly "you're a life saver" and turned down his offer for a light. "I have one in the truck, thanks."

"Take care of yourself" the man offered as he nodded, walking away. Krogh just took the cigarette and hopped back in the truck, tossing it carelessly on the floor.

"What was that for?" a Moudordian asked.

"I don't smoke" Krogh replied. "But the people in that cat's hole can think I do if it means they don't know we're taking subservience pictures. Let's get going."

"Yes Sir" the driver replied, as they continued down the Ossulstone street.

---

Lind smiled. "I'm glad to hear the work at Hadden International is going well. I've got reports from the Goyaneans and our own people that the Syndicalist threat in the area is contained, but I'm going to ask the General Staff about allotting more men to secure your construction crews..." he paused.

"Anyway Admiral, I'm calling to share some news regarding the ongoing reconstruction efforts in Prydania. The Goyaneans have been working in the south, and we're in contact with the Malorians to negotiate them taking the lead on reconstruction projects in the north. Seeing as you're working out of Hadden? I'm calling to establish a centralized hub of communications to link all three major construction efforts. And rest assured. We'll be contributing what we can. Be it in terms of men, materials, or armed soldiers to protect the crews in question."

"It's a deep pleasure and honour to meet you", said Eiselberg in Mercanti. Waiting for Kjær to respond he looked at the city of Haland below. Damaged buildings, debris everyone, and other things that you'd see in a Fascist War documentary.

"So what's the current state of Northern Prydania?", he asked. "If there's anything you need to say don't be afraid to tell me or the rest of the gang."

As the Merilian Humanitarian Fleet approached Prydanian waters, Commander Marcos Alvarenga ordered a very brief conference of all senior officers of his Crimson Berets contingent. As soon as everyone was assembled in one of the conference rooms on board the N.L.M. Misericórdia, the hospital ship and lead ship of the fleet, he began.

"Alright everyone. We are approaching Prydania and should arrive within a few hours. We've sent up drones for aerial surveillance which have confirmed that there is quite a bit of flooding in the farmlands. Thankfully we brought plenty of food with us and we have the building materials needed to repair any broken levees or construct new dams to hold back the water. I've talked with the aid and relief teams on each of the four ships via video conference to coordinate what supplies should be prioritized for off loading from the ships before anything else. As for when we reach Prydania, we are going to hold at the international nautical border of the nation. I want to start off this new Merilian - Prydanian relation on a strong foot and I'm going to send out a message to their Port Authority to invite their government to send someone, either an official or a representative of the government, to come on board and discuss how we can best render humanitarian aid in their nation. You are all dismissed, we will reconvene at 1500 when we reach Prydanian waters."

---

As 1500 loomed near, Marcos headed out on deck to smoke a joint he had rolled earlier. He stared off into the waters lost in his thoughts thinking about his wife and kids back home before he was interrupted by the ship setting off a short burst of its horn to indicate to the other ships to come to a halt as they had reached the international border of Prydania. Per his orders, the staff on board started broadcasting a message he had composed earlier while he himself walked back into the conference room, joint in hand and his rifle slung over his shoulder. As he sat down, he set his rifle down casually on the table and started to roll another joint as he waited for the Prydanians to respond.

---

"To the Beaconsfield Port Authority, this is the N.L.M. Misericórdia of the Merilian League. We have halted on the edge of your nautical border and before proceeding further, we would like to extend an invitation to the Prydanian government to send an official or representative to discuss humanitarian relief efforts with Commander Marcos Alvarenga here on the ship. We await your response."

With much of the planning having been talked out, it was time for the execution, and the Peace Helpers were ready. But for their first destination, a slow stroll towards the Sports Stadium of the city of Hadden. From there the trucks will each be given a Prydanian trooper to partner with the drivers and serve as impromptu interpreters.

Because without an interpreter, it gets... well, here's an example. The first city street name when the convoy rolled in: "Lárviðarlaufinu Blvd".

"Lárvi... wha...? Oh man, I should've paid more attention in language class." - One Thenacan truck driver, a Mercanti speaker primarily.

The Prydanian soldier chuckled as he caught sight of the street sign, and replied in accented but otherwise fluent Mercanti.

“Lárviðarlaufinu...it means…” he thought for a moment. “Bay leaf” he said in Mercanti. “But it’s pronounced ‘lar-vi-ed-ar-li-finu’ he added with a helpful smile.

---

Meanwhile, Captain Hummel and Williams lead ahead in Hummel's jeep. Speaking further about the mission, and otherwise...

"...So, Captain, where are you from?" Asked Williams.

Captain Hummel looked up from the reports he was going through to look ahead for a moment before signing.
“It’s a small town called Jórvík” he replied. “Not too far from here actually. Well relatively speaking. Hadden was the big city for us growing up.” He looked out the window for a brief moment. “It’s a blessing that it wasn’t hit as hard as most other places by the fighting.”


He shook his head just a bit. “Jórvík, though...it wasn’t so lucky. The Royalists were advancing, and a Syndicalist army detachment arrived one day. The political officer announced that they had found some Royalist scouts in the care of a local family. So they executed the family, and thirty others, randomly. To make an example.”
He took a deep breath and let his grip on his reports loosen. “I was never really politically inclined, and I never wanted to be a soldier. But I had to choose a side after that. “

“Sounds hard. How do you feel about things now? Going into early retirement? ...Have someone waiting for you?” Williams added with a smile.

He shook his head “No nothing like that. I mean I had a girlfriend. And yeah, she was killed…but we were young right? Not like it was going to work out anyway…”

Williams was a tad shocked, smile turned upside-down, and wanted to comfort the man who had been through so much in a short time. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m... I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through. I hope you understand we’re all here to rebuild. So that many, just like you, can still have a future. That’s what counts, right?”

He smiled with a pained nod and a soft “thank you.”
He composed himself. “It is, it is” he said as he straightened himself. “And I don’t think I can thank you enough for what you’re doing.”

Williams nodded, frown turning into a determined smile. “Let’s finish this, then.”

Lieutenant?Colonel Ole Kjær nodded "well sir, the roads are bombed out or littered with mines left over from the war. We need to clear the landmines and reconstruct the roads. Once we get into the Haland we we can begin distributing supplies. Haland can serve as a suitable hub for distributing food and supplies once we have the road system restored."

---

The men at the port authority looked at each other nervously, as one looked out with his binoculars.
"All of that's filled with food?" he asked, out loud but to no one in particular.
His two subordinates looked up at him from their stations.

"What do we do, boss?" one asked. The officer in charge just grabbed the radio.

"N.L.M. Misericórdia" he replied in Mercanti, "this is the Port Authority of the City of Beaconsfield, Kingdom of Prydania. Your request has been received. We are forwarding it to the appropriate military personnel. Please stand by."
He turned to one of his subordinates. "Pass it along to General Krummedike, now. Be quick about it."

General Krummedike wasn't one to order a man to do anything he wouldn't do. That's why he sat in helicopter as it sped towards the N.L.M. Misericórdia to meet with the Merilian League himself. He'd spent the last fifteen years fighting a destructive civil war, often leading from the front. And yet this had him shaking. The Merilian League was something...unknown. He'd never met a citizen of theirs, nor had he ever had any contact with their government or military. Their military might was legendary, and their culture mysterious as well. He just took a deep breath and convinced himself to leave the unfounded rumours behind and just see what awaited.

Krummedike's pilot was given the go-ahead to land on the Misericórdia's deck, slowly lowering itself as ground crew waved it in. He spent the first few minutes post-landing to collect himself before the blades stopped. At that he ducked out, quickly making his way towards a chap in a uniform.

"General Niels Hamar, Duke of Krummedike" he said in Mercanti, "Royal Prydanian Army, overseeing relief efforts."

Shaking hands with the Prydanian as he got off the helicopter, one of the Crimson Berets soldiers welcomed him "Senhor Krummedike, welcome to the N.L.M. Misericórdia. My name is Antón Novo, I'm the chief logistics officer for this contingent of the 1st Crimson Berets. If you'll follow me, my boss is waiting down below in one of the conference rooms waiting to meet with you to discuss humanitarian aid efforts."

Following the brief greeting, Antón led General Krummedike down to the conference room and after entering, he set his rifle down on the table alongside his bosses rifle before sitting down and motioning to General Krummedike to take a seat as well anywhere around the table. As the General took a seat, Marcos put away the joint he had made instead of smoking it and extended a hand in greeting, "I'm sure that Antón has already welcomed you aboard. Now, you are probably wondering the status of why myself and Antón are armed. We are both part of a full contingent of twenty five Crimson Berets staff here spread among the five ships and we are the only ones armed at the moment due to our status of being a specialized branch of the Merilian League's armed forces. Traditionally we only get involved in peacekeeping, mediations, negotiations and operating as a go between for two or more nations. However, with the status of your nation and its government, the Captains Regent felt it wise to involve us to make sure that relations were smoothed over as much as possible. Now, onto the reason that you are here... this ship you are on is primarily a hospital ship and can compliment any on shore hospitals and provide medical services to both citizens and military personnel. It is also serving as our mobile command center where we can organize and coordinate the efforts of all our aid and relief teams. As for the other four ships in the fleet, they are carrying a mixture of food and building supplies to help with any construction efforts. From what I saw via our drone surveillance, it looks like large swaths of your farmland is flooded due to broken or overwhelmed levees. How can we best be of assistance to the Prydanian people and its government?"

General Krummedike extended his hand to shake Marcos' hand. His grip was a bit shaky...he'd heard rumours of the Merilian League, their people, and their military. He had yet to meet anyone, soldier or otherwise, from that part of the world though. Their military might was well known though.
It was that knowledge that had him eyeing the rifles nonchalantly laid out on the table. Every instinct in his body, dating from the time his father taught him how to hunt on his estate's forested land to basic training in the armed forced, rebelled at the notion of such casual disregard for the positioning of the firearm. So much so he had to stop himself from saying anything. Lest he offend his hosts.

Meanwhile commander of this Crimson Beret detachment was clearly smoking a joint. The General didn't see it, but he could smell it. Aristocratic upbringing or no, he knew the smell of marijuana.
Was it arrogance for this man to be smoking a joint just before meeting him? He'd heard that Merilian League military might and their own embrace of democratic ideals made them arrogant. And yet he didn't truly sense any of that from his man. He wasn't smoking a joint with a sense of satisfaction. Rather he just puffed on it like one of Krummedike's men might a cigarette. Or how he himself might be caught taking a sip of water in his own office just as a visitor entered.
Still, he wondered. How in the hell did ships under the command of stoned soldiers manage to make it all the way from the Merilian League to Prydania?

He sat down, a bit stiff, and tried to force himself to relax.
"You coming armed is probably smart. Syndicalist holdouts dot the countryside. We're actively working to weed them out but I'm glad to see you're prepared."

His gaze quickly darted around the room. Looking for anything...pictures, insignia, flags, crests...anything that might allow him to get a handle on the culture.
"I can also assure you that His Majesty's government has every intention of fostering a smooth relationship with the Merilian League. We're certainly grateful for the aide, and the food. It's our most immediate concern. The food you've provided, along with the food provided by others who have elected to aide us, will feed the populace. Goyanean, Kanadian, and Cimmerian engineers are hard at work with the levies, but I'm afraid they can only do so much, and we wish not to ask too much of our other allies providing engineering support. If you could marshal your resources to aide in those efforts, and the draining of swamped farmland? We would be most grateful. It's the primary concern. If the farmlands can be rehabilitated then we can direct the majority of our own resources to rebuilding infrastructure."

Marcos and Antón both noticed that their guest was looking around the room quite a bit as he responded. After Krummedike had finished speaking, the two conversed very quickly in Merilia before Marcos said anything more, "I apologize for that brief interruption, I was just confirming with my logistics officer here that he did indeed lose the bet that myself and a few senior officers had placed before you came aboard. I had bet that you would be nervous upon meeting us due to the rumors that swirl around about the Merilian League's reputation while my officers who took the bet all said you would be nervous but more at ease once you had met us. Anyways, before I get off topic anymore I want to address aid and relief and inform you that I'll order the other ships and their teams to prioritize food deliveries to shore while directing our engineers to draw up a plan on how we can assist in draining the swamped farmland. Is there anything else we can help you with at the moment? Be it more discussion about humanitarian aid or did you have questions about our nation and its culture, in the hopes of dispelling some of those rumors that tend to float around Eras about us."

Imperial TA MK-III Transport Squadron begins landing
Hadden International Airport, Prydania
Sunday, 24 September 2017
09:31

Maroon One begins their landing, with the pilot responing, "Copy, control tower. Begining landing at runway." The pilot reduces speed before activating the landing gear. Then, he continues to make his decent before touching the ground. The others also begin to decend before making landfall, one by one. The transports then begin taxing before stopping to let the Imperial engineers out. Even after the Prydanian government requested that no Cimmerian personnel be armed for concern given the recent conflict Cimmeria was in, they are armed with their KA-14s anyway in the case of self defense only.

General Krummedike smiled a bit...
“I admit we don’t see much of your sort. We’ve only got a reputation to go on and, well, those are never the best words to go by. Not that I blame you all. You’re probably smart to stay away from this end of the world...”

He paused for a moment.
“I don’t begrudge you being armed. It’s probably prudent given the way things are. But...is it true that your soldiers go into the field high?”

---

Prydanian soldiers awaited the arrival of the Cimmerian plane, Harold Daaé, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, ready to meet them. It was a tense moment. Anything that brought Cimmerian soldiers into contact with PGU personnel was tense. And Harold hoped he could smooth anything over before that had a chance to happen.

Ebruac was a small town of around 8,000, but it served as a local gathering spot for nearby farmers, and where they brought many of their goods to market.
The Thenacan convoy guarded by Royal Prydanian Army trucks and jeeps moved towards it from Hadden at a steady pace. Country fields and rolling hills dotted the countryside.

“So what is this road called again?” Rebeca asked. Laurids just smiled.

“The Eldvegur, the road of fire” he replied.

“That’s a bit morbid!” Rebeca replied. “Did it get that name in the War?”

“A war” Laurids answered. Way back when Votrgyn unified the country he...”

An explosion erupted as the truck carrying food in front of them exploded in a ball of fire, their own truck screeching to a halt.

“Out now!” Captain Hummel yelled, as bullets rained down on the side of the convoy as the armoured escorts returned fire in the direction of the attack. Hummel gripped his rifle as he and his men exited the truck, and kept low.
“Stay down!” he yelled at Rebeca, before turning to return fire from the cover of the 6x6.

Rebeca was almost brought to tears. She had seen the horrors of war before, how they tore apart loving families, made rubble out of innocent communities. She's even seen the lifeless bodies of the young.
But to see one of her own people just... go up in flames? She'd never lost one of her Peace Keepers before.

Injured? Yes. Sometimes severely.

Sick? Yes. Poisons, diseases. Some even Rebeca herself has gone through but would rather not repeat.

Captured? Yes. Just a couple of times, always rescued afterwards.

But NOT DEAD! ...What would she tell their family? Hell, to Rebeca, the Peace Keepers are her family! From the connections they've built together through training and working side-by-side.

She really wanted to run over and grab their dog-tags, so she'd know who it is. At the same time, she wanted... revenge. Those... bastards. They don't care who they kill, or who gets trampled in their mindless cause for power!

She... she wanted to shoot back, to show them she wasn't scared. But there were three problems,
1. Her pistol was only loaded with rubber-rounds, useless at range or against decent armor.
2. It was common sense to stay down during a firefight. Anyone caught in the open would be slaughtered.
And 3- and this was the most important to her, and that few people know about: She was an avowed pacifist. It's why she created this company, it's why '1.' even exists! If she took revenge, it would be going against her own beliefs.

But then... she didn't care, anymore. She just didn't care! So she got up, grabbed her pistol, pushed past Captain Hummel, and started firing wildly into the opposition. "You bastards!" She screamed, tears streaming from her eyes. Not caring if she got hit, or that she couldn't hit anyone, she just-

-lied there on the ground... with a sharp pain in her shoulder, wet with her own blood. She was lucky it was just the shoulder, and that she was still behind the front end of the 6x6. But she felt... she wasn't sure what she felt. Terrified? Satisfied for taking revenge? Disgusted with herself? Mostly just emotional anguish. She just wanted to close her eyes and pretend it all didn't happen...

Hummel rushed to Rebeca Williams and dragged her so she was fully behind the 6x6...not that it mattered if the the Syndicalists had the means to blow an entire truck up but...well it hadn't happened yet to any other jeep or truck in the convoy.
"Don't get yourself killed!" be barked, before turning to one of his men. "When did the Syndies get that sort of firepower?" before turning to return fire, not even waiting for an answer. It was rhetorical anyway. Nothing in any of their reports indicated this could be possible.

The communications officer two jeeps down was already on the radio "...repeat Eldvegur, three quarters to Ebruac from Hadden, backup needed!...." he sent a thumbs up to another solider who relayed it to Hummel. Backup would be here soon.

Hummel continued to return fire as bullets rained off of metal, and a Prydanian solider wearing red cross markings tended to Rebeca Williams' shoulder wound.
"That's it" she said to the Thenacian Captain, "just stay put..."

"They're sending an attack helicopter!" Hummel yelled, just need to keep them busy...."

---

Landerne had recovered well enough. Goyanean soldiers had cleared the landmines and the levies were being worked on. The river no longer flooded the town, as construction workers and soldiers were regular sites downtown.

The town square was lively tonight. It was the first ever nation-wide Oktoberfest since the Syndicalists outlawed it back in 2002. Tents lined the square and major streets in town, Goyanean and Prydanian soldiers drank and ate with townspeople under colourful banners. It was an important milestone, as a city plagued by the Civil War and its immediate aftermath celebrated good fortune with those helping save it.

The mayor, wearing a ceremonial sash and a trachten hat, stood up at the head table. Callum Goff and Warren Tristard craned their necks to the front table as the mayor began to speak.

"I just wanted to again thank our Goyanean friends..."
The main tent erupted into cheers as Goyanean soldiers smiled and raised their mugs to return the adulation.
"...before we witness an address from the King!"

Two aldermen wheeled in a large television, hooked up to the news feed. The screen flickered on, a shot of the festivities in Beaconsfield filling the screen. The RÚV logo indicating the feed was live.

The young King could be seen approaching the head table at one of the Beaconsfield gatherings amidst a round of applause.
"Everyone, thank you, thank you!" he began with a smile. Tobias III generally had the look one would expect of a person in his position, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Now though, he looked happy, smiling as he raised a mug of beer before setting it down.

"I don't want to keep anyone from the festivities for too long, but I couldn't let the moment pass without saying thank you to those who deserved it. Thank you to our PGU friends. To Goyanes, Andrenne, Kanada. To our friends from Mouxordia, Iraelia, the Merilian League, Ninhundland, Cimmeria, and Thenaca. We thank you all! Enjoy yourselves! Drink with us, eat with us, and be happy with us!
And before I leave you all tonight, I wish to say thank you to the people who most deserve it. To every Prydanian still working to rebuild their lives. Person by person, life by life. You all make our country stronger every day. God bless our friends, our loved ones, and our country!" he took a gulp from the mug and raised it again, yelling "rolte!" to a round of enthusiastic cheers as the feed moved away from covering the King.

The mayor had the screen turned off as he addressed the crowd.
"You heard the King, be happy!" he cried out, met by a resounding response as the party carried on...

Rebeca was in a daze after being suddenly pulled over. Probably Hummel, she thought.
As for the daze, she wasn't sure if it was the blood loss or the emotions she had earlier, or perhaps a combination. Even though her senses were deadened and her head was aching, she could tell the bullet went clean through her shoulder. And it was probably a 7.62mm round.

It's a freaking miracle I survived... Rebeca thought again. Then she heard the good Captain yell at her again, through the ringing in her ears and her head. "Yeah, thanks..." she softly mumbled.
And even as the Prydanian medic tended to the hole in her shoulder, she thought about the others. They'd most likely be following protocol and common sense, unlike her...

---

At the same time, a drone was circling overhead, safely recording the attack through night-vision-enhanced lenses. Normally the Talon special forces would take advantage of such aerial surveillance to out-maneuver the enemy with uncanny foresight. But these weren't Talons... They were medics and engineers, just wanting to help their fellow humans.

The footage was being sent back to the Command Plane, which subsequently sent it back to TSIC in Davenport AFB. The sight of the battle was... worrying, to say the least.

"...One friendly casualty, one allied casualty, several wounded on both sides. At least a dozen Op-For personnel, armed with possibly black-market obtained foreign weaponry, including a rocket launcher." An analyst spoke out loud.

"...Get me the ear of General Alistair." The TSIC director replied to no one specifically, still staring at the footage with discomfort.

---

a little while later...

General Alistair Bird was the head of Thenacan Military Intelligence, a logistics branch that handled all that could be learned on the battlefield and from rival armies. He had been in touch with colleagues in Prydania, and nothing in the reports gifted mentioned the Op-For having any anti-vehicle weaponry. That, and that detail just killed a Thenacan aid worker, very much concerned and angered him.

"...Get the PM, the PA, and the chiefs of staff together for an emergency session. This mission just got a lot more complicated..." He spoke to an aide on the phone.

An attack helicopter approached the firefight from Hadden, baring the red square and truncated Prydanian cross roundel, its rotters cutting through the sound of bullets against metal. It was almost surreal the amount of firepower it unloaded on the Syndicalist position, circling in the air as it strafed fleeing enemy combatants.

Hummel waved his arm yelling "go!" in Prydanian as his soldiers stormed what had once been the Syndicalist position...

---

...the scene by the side of the road was bloody, ugly, and tragic. And yet the enemy was routed. At least in this case. More soldiers, from a detachment in Hadden, had come to deal with the Syndicalist survivors who had been rounded up. Hummel, for his part, was making sure Rebeca Williams didn't get a chance to see them loaded into jeeps in cuffs. Least she try to charge them in her state. That wasn't going to be good for anyone. The Thenacan Captain, however, seemed to be recovering quietly.

It was then that he was waved over by the Captain in command of the newly arrived group of men. They got to it after exchanging salutes...
"We found what they used. Anti-vehicle weaponry. Thankfully for you they only had one rocket. Could have been over before anyone else knew what happened if they had more..."

Hummel just nodded. What else could he say? "Oh it's wonderful we weren't all blown up?" The other captain, sensing his unwillingness to speak, continued...

"The weapon in question wasn't Prydanian though."

"So it's not old Syndicalist Army surplus..." Hummel added.

"Not at all. It's an AV-9722 anti-vehicle weapon. Frome Andrenne."

A look of disbelief washed over Hummel's face.

"I know" the captain went on, "we're taking it back to Hadden. I've already radioed command. I'm relaying their orders. Don't tell the Thenacans, don't tell anyone. We don't need this getting out until we know for sure where this came from."

"Understood" Hummel responded, a pit growing in his stomach.

The two men went their separate ways, trucks and jeeps hauling Syndicalist prisoners on their way back to Hadden. Hummel, for his part, returned to the medic treating Captain Williams.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft and shaking from nerves. There's no real way to answer that question. And yet he had to ask...

Rebeca was a little delirious from the blood-loss and - of course, the emotional trauma.

"Did... we get them all...?" She asked back, not realizing the battle had already ceased.

"My head... hurts. But- ow- but I need the... their dog-tags. Their family- ow- n-needs to know..." She rambled on, holding her forehead - probably from a real bad headache. She struggled but eventually got up, though she soon lost her balance and nearly fell over into Captain Hummel. She was likely referring to the ID-tags of the deceased Peace Helper in the burnt-out truck. Whether they survived such a large explosion, is unknown...

---

In the officers' meeting room, Fort Talmain military base, around the same time...

"Is that all we know at the moment?" David asked, after being briefed with all the details of the unusually horrendous battle.

"For now, Prime Minister." Alistair replied.

"And where is King Tobias at the moment?" David further queried.

"The King is among a crowd of people in Beaconsfield, celebrating their first Oktoberfest in quite a number of years." Alistair answered.

"He very likely doesn't know what happened then." Another general added.

"But we can't let this attack go unpunished!" Added a more brash member. "I say we send in no less than three Talon teams along with extra armored IFVs!"

"But they said they want no more foreign armed soldiers on their soil! We can't just barge in because of an isolated incident...!" Argued a more cautious member.

"This conflict became ours the moment they took the lives of one of our children!" the brash member argued back.

"Enough!" David yelled at both of them, standing up. "I'll go there myself if I have to. But I will not violate their sovereignty without asking."

"I believe the best course of action would be to send the teams, along with my brother and I. We'll wait for the info to make it to the king and their PM first, on their own time. In this way, we can claim the offensive operation as partly diplomatic and not just a purely revenge-minded counter-strike." Amara interceded. There was silence for a bit, then nods being passed between the generals.

"That sounds like a win-win plan. I'll put it to a vote. All in favor of the Prime Advisor's plan, say aye." David called.

An unanimous chorus of ayes filled the meeting.

"Any opposed?" David also called, looking between them. But he was met with silence, or shaking heads. "Alright, then we'll settle on it. We'll wait and see for now. We'll wait on King Tobias or Prime Minister William Aubyn to call us. In the mean time, have Talon Teams 1 through 3 readied up and on standby. Let no one else know about this until the Prydanians call us. Understood? ...Dismissed."

(OOC: Due to Prydania now sharing a border with Kanada, aid will now be supplied via truck over road. Just a small post to show.)

In the north, along the coast, lines of trucks went along the road in newly falling snow, with traffic jams often between them. To keep it efficient, any trucks that broke down would be pulled offroad, the rest of the vehicles could continue. It was much easier in the south, across sprawling potato fields and somewhat warmer weather. The soldiers would wave or tip their hats at any Prydanian border guards, and be on their way to a few major population center, where food could be given to the Prydanians and then distributed.
Some vehicles also held engineers from the army, who would help with reconstructing infrastructure across the country, and any other jobs needed by the Prydanians.