This Will End in Fire [invite-only]

Esplandia

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esplandia
The sun was hot overhead, a fine day for fishing. Two old men sat at the side of the lake, their poles cast out into the water waiting for a nibble. One sipped at a beer, his eyes half closed as he watched the line bob gently in the water. The other held a book, reading intently, his own pole forgotten.

“You want a beer?”

“No thanks,” the reader replied. The other man just shrugged, and kept sipping at his drink. Their quiet afternoon was disturbed as two helicopters came flying low over the hills, passing by overhead and crossing the lake before disappearing beyond the trees on the far side.

“Who the hell was that?” The beer sipper asked.

The reader, who had put aside his book during the flyby, answered. “Esplandians. They’re flag was on the bottom.”

“Where do you think they were headed?”

Picking up his book the reader started to read once again. “Don’t care,” he answered.


Alwur Skeowaeng stepped out of the helicopter as it touched down on the ground in front of the cabin. Time, as he was well aware, was in short supply today.

He approached the cabin, met by an old women near the door. Her and her husband lived in the cabin and maintained it as a safe house.Thoughthey were old now, the two had been agents of Alwur’s when he served under Katharine II. “Is he secure?” he asked.

The old woman nodded. “We got him out of Pelleg Prison without any fuss.”

“Very well, let’s get this over with.” He stepped through the doorway into the cabin. There was nothing out of the ordinary here, just a mountain cabin with rustic furniture. It was kept neat and tidy, a homely place. But it was no mere cabin.

The old woman opened the closet next to the door and pushed aside the coats hanging inside. He knocked three times on the back paneling. A second passed and then the back opened up, another agent, an old man, waiting.

“Keep an eye out up here,” Alwur told the woman, and then stepped through the back of the closet. A narrow staircase went downwards below the house. Alwur lead the way, the old man following.

“Has he said anything?” Alwur asked, descending the three stories to the bottom.

“Just curses and profanities.”

Alwur nodded. He’d expected as much. At the bottom of the stairs was a door, a solid steel blast door. Alwur stepped forward to a keypad next to it and punched in a code. The pad then asked for a second number. The elderly agent put his own in and a mechanical clanking followed. Alwur turned the handle and pulled open the heavy door. A short, brightly lit hallway lay ahead. There were three doors beyond. One at the far end, and then one on either side.

“Which one?” Alwur asked.

“The left,” the old man answered, pulling the door closed behind them. Alwur went to the door, and pushed it open. It was an empty room except for a steel table and two steel chairs. In one chair, handcuffed to the table, sat Kraes Deffened the former second in command of the Sons of Kaerwent.

“You look like shit,” Alwur said addressing the older man. “Prison food must not agree with you.”

Kraes stared intently at Alwur, his eyes not blinking. “Still Sherwin’s lapdog I see.”

Alwur took a seat across from the man, trying to gage how much he knew. Was he even involved at all? The prison had assured him that there had been no outside contact with anyone in the last year, but Alwur doubted that.

“Are you aware of what’s going on in Karthied?” he asked.

Kraes wrinkled his nose. “I don’t talk to anyone these days, so no. What’s going on? Did somebody finally off the old man?”

Alwur drummed his fingers on the table. He wished he had time to deal with all this properly, but there was a clock ticking. Things were bad in the capital and people were looking for a scapegoat. And if Kraes was going to lie to him, it could very well be the Aernish who was at the receiving end of an angry mob.

“I was given information that the bombs were placed by ex-members of the Sons. If revealed to the Landesgrad, it would mean that the organization was still active in some capacity. There’d be calls for blood.”

Kraes shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “The Sons were disbanded. You and Raederman saw to that.”

Alwur stood up, and paced around the room. There was so much misinformation in the world. And those who knew the truth were often too stubborn to share it.

“This is where Denraes died,” Alwur said. “Not this room, but the one across the hall. He bled out after I got the information I needed.”

Kraes glared fire at Alwur. “You bastard!” he yelled. “It was you? You fucking fuck!” He threw himself against the cuffs as if he could break free and get his revenge.

Alwur ignored his antics and continued, “It would be poetic justice. Two brothers, two traitors, dying in the same hole. Maybe we’ll throw your body in the same bog as his.” Alwur took his pistol out of the holster inside his jacket and pointed it at Kraes. “Were the Sons involved?” he asked coldly.

Kraes stared at Alwur with pure loathing, but no fear. He was ready to die. For a moment Alwur was worried he’d get no answer from the man, that he’d gone too far.

“The Sons had nothing to do with the bombings,” he responded. “Though now I wish we had. And that we’d blown you and your miserable fucking family to dust as well.”

Alwur lowered the weapon, having expected the Sons weren’t behind this. “Do you know who orchestrated it?”

“No,” Kraes answered. “If I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“That’s a lie. Somebody’s trying to blame you and start a conflict between Aerndreffed and Esplandia. So you would tell me.”

Alwur lowered his pistol to his side. His mind was turning as it wheeled through possibilities. “Who’s in charge of the Sons now?” he asked.

Kraes said nothing.

“Korbin? Or perhaps Maeth?” Still no answer, not even a flicker of emotion to give anything away. Which to Alwur was also a tell. “Braevin, then.”

This time Kraes did flinch, his jaw clenched in anger. “If you harm him…”

“You’ll do nothing,” Alwur interrupted. “Because you died in an attempted prison escape this morning. I was quite sorry to hear the news.”

Alwur stepped out of the room. He nodded to the old man, letting him know he’d gotten what he wanted. The old man entered behind and closed the door. Alwur was still thinking what his next move would be when a muffled shot rang out. The old man returned back through the door, holstering his weapon. Alwur didn’t look at him or give further instructions. The old man would find a place to dump the body and clean everything up here.

Alwur contemplates the situation. Somebody was trying to frame the Sons of Kaerwent for the attack. But it was someone who wasn’t aware that Esplandia had backed them against Alstenbek back in the day. That did narrow it down some. He would need to talk to Braevin Raederman next.
 
It was like pushing her way through mud, finally coming up into the the light and breathing air, but finding everything hurt. She felt both numb and in agony, though the pain was dull and far away. She opened her eyes, but the vision on her right side was blocked. She was in a bed, in a hospital room. She could here something beeping off to her side and above her head.

She raised her hand to her face, to see what was covering her right eye, but her hand felt nothing. Their was no touch, no sensation. She turned her head for her left eye to look at her hand. But there was no hand. Her arm ended just below the elbow, now only a wad of gauze wrapped up around the stump.

She felt panic rising in her. A wail of despair, as memories of the explosion came rushing forward. There had been fire, and she’d been knocked sideways. Silvia had screamed.

Next to her, Taewin Skeowaeng stirred awake by the sound she’d made. He sat up when he saw she was awake. “Amelia,” he said excitedly, happy to see her finally having come to. “Let me get the doctors.” And he dashed out of the room, his voice as he called out fading down the hallway.

She’d barely noticed. She was still in a panic. She checked her left arm to make sure it was still there. It was, but she had to hold it up for a minute to make sure it really was. She could feel it as she moved it, but that was true of the missing one as well. Then she had another thought, and she threw back her covers. But both her legs was still there, her toes wiggling as she made sure they worked. The right one was bandaged, but only above the knee. She used her remaining hand to feel at the bandages covering the right side of her face.

“You’re eye is fine,” the doctor, an older man with graying hair said as he entered the room. He was followed by a nurse and Taewin. “There are burns to that side of the face and we covered it up for protection.”

He took at a small penlight and shined it into her open eye, checking her vision. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“What happened?” She asked, still trying to piece her memories back together. “There was an accident…”

“You’re alright, now.” The doctor assured her. “You’re no longer in any danger, but there are some serious burns and you’ve…”

“I’ve lost my arm,” she interrupted. She looked at the doctor tears in her eyes. “It’s gone,” she whimpered.

He gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, then checked the readings on the monitor next to his bed, said something to the nurse and then made a note in a chart. “Your father has been informed you’re awake and he’s on his way up.”

Sherwin entered the room a few minutes later. The doctor and nurse had left, and she’d heard them talking to her father in the hall, though she couldn’t hear what they’d said. Taewin had held her hand, her good hand, and tried to talk with her. It was obvious he had no clue what to say, and she wasn’t ready to talk.

She was scared of the way her father looked at her. There was fear and pity. And worst of all he looked tired, and haggard.

“Taewin, would you step outside, please,” Sherwin said. Taewin obeyed, but her father thanked him softly as he passed by, squeezing his shoulder appreciatively. He sat down in the chair Taewin had just vacated. “Does it hurt?” he asked, nodding towards her missing arm.

She held it up, looking at the stump. “No,” she answered. “It just itches, but I can’t scratch it. Because it’s not there.” She then burst into tears, crying and unable to hold it back longer.

Sherwin took his daughter into his arms and held her, letting her son into his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, there was nothing to say that would comfort her. Just being there was enough.

After awhile she stopped crying and when the sobbing had also passed, she laid back down. She looked at her stump again, and then let it fall next to her.

“Silvia didn’t make it did she?” she asked. She sounded defeated, tired, and Sherwin’s heart leapt out for her.

“You remember?”

“No. But she was sitting on my left. If I’m this bad, then she'd be worse. And no one has mentioned her to me.”

Sherwin squeezed her hand. “Yes, she…” he paused. How did you talk about death when it was your child? “She..” he took a deep breath. “...she was killed instantly. She didn’t suffer. I don’t know…” and now tears came to his eyes and this time it was his daughter who held him. But he didn’t cry. Not more than a few tears. He had cried plenty already.

“You’re mother will be glad to hear you’re awake.”

“How is she?”

Sherwin gave a half hearted smile. “Devastated, but trying to hold it together for Edwin. Hearing you’re doing well will help.”

“Is she here?”

“She’s returned to Rathberg, but I’ll see to it she comes to see you.”

They spent a few minutes longer, mostly in silence. Sherwin just holding the hand of his daughter. Soon she fell asleep again. He pulled the covers over her.

Taewin was leaning against the wall down the hallway, far enough he couldn’t hear the conversation. Giving the two privacy.

“Look after her,” Sherwin told him as he passed in the hall. “She’s pretending to be strong, but the reality of what’s happened will hit her. She’ll need you.”
 
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Sherwin surveyed the burnt out remains of what had once been the Gisard Theater. There was nothing left, just a blackened husk and crumbled stone. The buildings next to it had also burned or been blasted away by the explosion, leaving hollowed out stone houses.

Around him the Huskavrals kept watch, as well as palace guards and Civil Order officers. And throughout the city, military troops patrolled the streets. And the people did their best to go about their lives.

But things would be different. Sherwin knew that things had changed. The heart of Esplandia had been struck and a new day of vengeance would come where the cries for blood would drown out the calls of peace. And worst of all, he hoped that day would be soon.

He turned from the ruins, his Huskavrals following behind. He walked back to Blaegfyurd, crossing the palace grounds. His mind wanted to wander, to go back to better days but he kept it here and now, focused on the today.

Irwin and Raum were waiting for him in his office. More tasks that needed to be done.

“We‘ve called up 6,000 reserves as per your orders,” Irwin said. “The Landesgrad is not happy you superceeded their authority on this.”

Sherwin just shrugged. “We don’t have time for a vote. There’s already more riots in Alstenbek. Things could get much worse.”

Raum coughed. “The Alstenbeker nobility have filed a protest against you with the Witengamot,” he said. “They’re upset you declared martial law.”

“Only in Karthied and Nalgorhaem.”

“Doesn’t matter to them, they’re going to protest anyway.”

It didn’t matter to Sherwin anyway. Let them protest. He hadn’t yet ruled out the Alstenbek nobles as being the ones behind the attack, despite the evidence that the Sons had carried it out. At this moment in time, he’d not ruled anyone out.

“Raum, I want you to consider relocating the Witangamot. Perhaps to Halsen.”

“That probably won’t be necessary but I’ll bring it up with the council. In the meantime I have to make a public address in a few hours.” He stood up giving Sherwin a curt bow. “Aela watch us over us all.”

“The winds will blow us where they will,” Sherwin responded, quoting from the Edjaddas.

After Raum left the king turned to his son. I am sending Abigael and Edwin to visit her sister in Gotjannes. I...can’t have them here. If someone can strike at Karthied, then they can strike at Rathberg, or even Gothelif. Perhaps it’s best Elaena and Sigurda went with them?”

Irwin rubbed his chin and a wispy beard from three days without shaving. “She won’t like it, but I think it’s for the best. I know the Gotjans will keep them safe but I wish I could protect them myself.”

“I’m sending Baeleg as well. Because I trust no one more.”

Irwin nodded. “Alright. I’ll inform her. What about Amelia? Will Abigael even leave without her?”

“I’ll send Amelia as soon as she is well enough to travel. Hopefully by then we’ve found out who was behind this and dealt out justice.”

Irwin furrowed his brow at Sherwin’s choice of words, but didn’t voice his concerns. “You don’t believe the Sons we’re behind it?”

Sherwin shrugged. “It’s too convenient. A dossier on their activities shows up a day after the attack. It has all the evidence that they’d been stockpiling explosives for months. It’s just too convenient.”

“If anyone can find out the truth, it’s Alwur.”

Sherwin nodded absently, once again lost in thought. His mind had finally won and started to wander.

Paint It, Black —Ramin Djawadi
 
Braevin Raederman stepped out of the back door of his small home in Pogwe. He was holding a basket of gardening supplies. He’d been away and weeds had come up in that time. He hoped to have them cleared away before his next trip.

“You grow a good tomato,” a man, standing just to the side of his door said, a half eaten tomato in his hand. “Though it could use some salt.”

Braevin had never met the man, but knew who he was on sight. “Duke Skywing,” he said. He didn’t offer a bow or any other honorific. “Why are you in my garden?”

Alwur took another bite of the tomato, chewing it thoughtfully. This man seemed so young. Certainly not one of the old guard who remembered the reign of Katharin II.

“I’ve heard you’re now leading the Sons of Kaerwent,” he said after finishing his bite. “What would your uncle think? If he knew.”

Braevin set his basket of tools down on the grass. “The Sons refused to disband. Too many people didn’t trust this new state we’d been given.”

“And you took it on yourself to lead them? Why?”

Braevin shrugged. “It was either me or someone like Korbin Vaested, or Maeth Borsen. Or even Kraes Deffened. And they’re all radicals who want to see the whole Vestrugat ruled over by an Aernish king.”

“So you’re just preventing more bloodshed?” Alwur finished up the tomato, and wiped the juice from his beard. “Were the Sons involves in the bombings?”

“No,” Braevin answered tersely.

“Perhaps Korbin or Maeth ordered it.”

“They have little say in the order these days. My uncle has them watched. Perhaps Kraes. Even though he’s in prison he still has some pull.”

“Kraes is dead.”

“Oh?”

“He died this morning. And he had nothing to do with it. Of that, he assured me.”

Braevin didn’t seem too bothered to hear about the death of the former second in command of the Sons. “I suppose you were behind that. No...I don’t want to know? What I do want to know is why you think it was the Sons?”

Alwur handed him a packet from inside his jacket. Braevin opened it and read through it, his face going red.

“Who gave this to you?”

Alwur took the packet back. “No idea who sent it, but it showed up after the bombings.”

“None of it is true. The Sons haven’t been stockpiling explosives. We’ve been doing humanitarian work. Helping people whom the new state can’t help yet.”

Alwur put the packet back in his coat pocket. He found himself believing Braevin. Which meant something else was going on here. But what?

“I’ll assure the King you had nothing to do with his daughter’s death. In the meantime, if you or the Sons hear anything about who might be behind this, you let me know.”

Braevin nodded, a look of relief on his face. “I will,” he assured the Duke.


Esmeralda felt the cool morning air on her skin. It carried the fragrance of the gardens below up into her room. She pulled her shift closed and stepped out on the terrace, taking in the morning sun.

She wished the warmth would make her feel better, but a coldness had settled on her heart. Ever since the bombings in Karthied she couldn’t help but feel a deep trepidation. This is punishment for my sins, she thought, thinking about her husband’s death and her hand in it. Sherwin got rid of Sigurt, and now he’s lost a child. What will I pay for Raenhald?

She was thinking about her own daughters. The thought of losing one like Sherwin had lost his, it terrified her. She wondered how Sherwin was even able to go about his day, to keep up the appearance of strength, after such a catastrophe.

She turned back into her bedroom, closing the doors behind her. She didn’t need the fresh air today. Today was a day for thinking, the type of thinking done inside.

She strode to the inner wall of the royal apartments, a great painted relief map of the Vestrugat decorated it. It had been commissioned by her grandfather, in the days before the civil war, before the auf Morestbergs had soiled the throne by usurping it. But now she was Queen, and her family once again held the throne, though it would be her husband’s name, the usurper’s name, that would carry on the royal line.

She placed her hand on the great map, reaching high while standing on tip-toes, her finger resting on Halsen. She let her hand slide down the wall until her fingers passed over the Kregs. Then she drew a line straight down through the Aernish lands and over the Saljegvatter to the Whispering Sea. This was the line that divided the Vestrugat. East to west. It was a scar on the soul of Hastfradom, as she liked to think of it. One that had started long ago upon Braegga’s death, then reinforced by the Syrixian invasion.

“There will be war,” she said aloud to the emptiness. And she had already picked her side. She would support Sherwin. That was something her grandfather would have been surprised for his heir to have done. To support an Esplandian king. But it was the right choice. A united Vestrugat would one day be a power on Eras. Divided they had been nothing.
 
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Adam Kamil dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was exceedingly ordinary. Dark tan corduroy with grey cuffs and a grey hood, flung over his head to protect himself from the rain.

He looked around. He was where he was supposed to be. Across from the dinner. He pulled out his phone to check the time again. His contact was late. He grumbled and began to pace. He was standing in a lot that bordered the backside of an old brick storefront. It was a two space building. Half occupied by a sandwich shop, the other by what was once a video rental store. That went under years ago, but the space had yet to be permanently filled.
He paced around the backlot, bordered by chain link fence that was failing in some spots, the only other thing in the space being a lone car. The guy who owned the sandwich shop.
He grunted softly. He didn't mind the cold. It was cold back home in the Mishkanulsas. What he minded was being left hanging. It was possible his guy had been discovered. He sighed. He was prepared for that, of course, but he would prefer it if he didn't need to.

A man in a black jacket approached as he was on the far side of the lot, beckoning him over. Adam cut through the middle of the lot, not even caring that he trampled through a puddle.
"Fucking hell Earnwulf, where've you been?"

"Its sensitive stuff. It's better to be careful than quick and careless."

"What do you have?"

Earnwulf looked nervous but chuckled.
"I got your order. From the Shaddaist deli across town."
He handed him a styrofoam container.
"Smoked meat, fries, black cherry pop and extra mustard. Because I know you like mustard."

"Complicated order huh?"

"You'd be surprised how often they forget the extra mustard."

Adam nodded, taking the container...complete with an order slip stapled to the top...and pat his contact on the shoulder.
"Thanks. Stay in touch."

"Always Kamil" Earnwulf remarked, giving him a brief wave before taking off.

Adam left the lot with haste, moving through a thin alley to get into the crowded sidewalk. He moved with determination, ducking into his apartment building and yanking the hood off. Thankfully his was the first door on the right and before long he was as secure as he was ever going to be.
He checked the safeguards on the windows and doors before plugging his phone into the radio and playing some Prydanian heavy metal just loud enough to be heard from the hall. He hated the stuff but it was loud and that was what counted.

He set the styrofoam container down and opened it. Roast beef, fries, extra mustard. And under the fries...the container had a false bottom. The styrofoam broke easily and he pulled out a baggy containing a single thumb drive. He bit into the sandwich as he opened the contents of the drive on his laptop.

"Oh Albrekt you fox you" he whispered as he sent the files over a secured digital line.

"A-ok" a direct message popped up. It was a dummy Yeniem* account.
"Sounds good, see you this weekend" he replied. They had copies of the thumb drive's files. He yanked it from his laptop, tossing it down his kitchen sink before activating the garbage disposal.




Iraelian Embassy in the IFV

Revaya Barkai fiddled with her Yeniem security badge. She didn't have much to do while waiting for Alwur Skeowaeng to arrive. She wasn't sure how he'd be, but perhaps a bit temperamental would be a good guess. He was very busy these days.

"Duke Skeowaeng is here Ms" an armed Imperial Iraelian Army soldier informed her. She nodded, standing as the Duke entered. She waited for the door to close behind him.

"I won't waste any of your time" she picked up the file.
"The Yeniem can confirm that Albrekt of Saegsen and Winegar of Kaludgar have been busy, securing each other's loyalty. The Iraelian government and the Yeniem believe this information is vital to Emperor Sherwin's interests."


 
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Sherwin held his wife’s hand, walking down into the depths of the crypt. A solemn procession. It was a familiar affair, only a handful of people to bear witness the internment of the latest denizen.

Sherwin led the procession, Abigael by his side. She held her head up high as a true queen though she must still be shaken up inside. Next followed Prince Irwin and Elaena next to him. Then a small casket, carried by six Huskavrals. Behind came Princess Amelia, still bandaged though healthier than a few weeks before, escorted by Taewin Skeowaeng. And bringing up the rear, carrying a small black leather book, was count Baeleg Gent.

Princess Sigurda Raeola Enid auf Drakosta, who they had all called Silvia, was to be laid to rest in the chamber of Katharin II.

They entered the crypt of Sherwin’s mother, taking up places around the room. The Huskavrals carried the casket to the last stone sarcophagus without an occupant. It’s lid had been pushed to the side in preparation.

Count Baeleg began to speak, reading from the book he had brought. “Aela who is Aldurath Evenul, from thy throne, keep watch as this soul leaves Eras and sets out upon the rivers of the heavens. They seek their way to your throne, and everlasting peace within Aeor. Let them not lose their way. Oh Aela, shine forth thy glory and call them thither to thine presence. Let the waters of mighty Elunenborn take this soul swiftly to the gates of the heavenly city. This we ask of thee, in the name of our fathers and mothers who have gone forth before us.”

Then those who were also in the crypt spoke out in unison. “The winds will blow us where they will.”

Then the Huskavrals lowered the casket into the sarcophagus, and pushed the lid shut. The lid was then bolted down and when the last one was tightened, the Queen began to cry.


Alwur thanked the Iraelian, taking the file. There were moments where, when presented with previously unknown information, the big picture at last clicked into place. This was one of those. Seeing the report, the movements of Albrekt and Winegar and their secret meetings, that Alwur now had no doubt what was going on. All that remained was figuring out the why’s.

He thanked the woman, Miss Barkai, and quickly made his exit. He had phone calls to make and he would likely need to see the King before the day was done.

He called up the head of the investigation into the bombings, who was under direct orders to share all information with Skeowaeng. The lead investigator filled him in on what they’d discovered so far, but it was the lab reports in the actual bombs that interested him. He listened to the description on the device and the on the makeup of the explosives used. When he was satisfied he hung up.

Every explosive device, every explosive made, left a figurative fingerprint of its creator and oftentimes patterns would even be able to tell you where the bombers were from. Alwur was remembering a time during Katharin’s reign, when a bomb had killed a Hastenfraktan. This Hastenfraktan had been attempting to sow distrust between Albrekt and Sigurt during the Austalgothan incident and keep them out of a potential war. Alwur remembered reading about the bomb and how it matched others used by the Saegsen intelligence agency throughout the Aernish uprisings.

The description of the recent explosive devices shared many similarities as well. Enough for Alwur to begin to piece the puzzle together. But would Albrekt have gone so far? Would Winegar? What would they gain?
He still didn’t know, but he would have to find out. He left Karthied an hour later, heading south to see the Emperor at Rathberg.


Amelia had been discharged from the hospital but she was still under strict orders to rest. She’d been allowed to return to Rathberg under the care of the royal physician. She would need a lot of assistance, including physical therapy and a therapist, as she got used to living with one arm. She was at least glad that Taewin had been allowed to stay in the castle. Though he would have to return to Ceretis in two weeks to return to school.

Amelia was sitting alone in her room, trying to read a book. It was difficult, as she had to set the book down to turn the page as she hadn’t learned to hold the book with her stump yet.

Her mother came into the room. “Do you need anything?” She asked.

Amelia looked up and feigned a smile. “I’m alright. How are you?”

Her mother clasped her hands together, a habit she had when she was anxious. “I wish you could come away to Gotjannes with us tomorrow. Your aunt would love to see you.” She came and sat next to her daughter.

Amelia used her only hand to pat her mother’s hand. “I’ll be fine, mother.”

“The doctor says you should be well enough to travel in a month. When you come to join us we’ll go see the Gotjannestad…”

“I’m not going,” Amelia said. “I’ll be returning to school as soon as I can.”

“You can put that off until the fall. The school has already promised that time off won’t affect you.”

“Mother,” Amelia said firmly. “I will return to school.”
Abigael looked painfully at her daughter, hoping she could convince her to stay with her, but she smiled knowing it would be no use. She was her father’s daughter. “It is your choice. You’re a woman now. I won’t tell you what to do.”
Amelia gave her mother an appreciative hug, squeezing as hard as she could with only an arm and a half.


Sherwin listened to Alwur’s report, finishing up his beer before he spoke. It was now dark outside Sherwin’s office, and he’d pulled the curtains closed when the Duke had arrived. Hearing what Alwur suspected brought his anger at the death of his child back up.

“Do the Iraelians suspect Saegsen and Kaludgar we’re behind the attack?”

“It’s unlikely. They were just passing along information that they felt we should know. But who knows what the Yeniem knows.”

Sherwin nodded. Hopefully they didn’t, but if they did he couldn’t worry himself about any of that.

“Do my orders still stand?” Alwur asked.

Sherwin opened the small fridge under his desk, taking out two beers and handing one to Alwur. “If you can find any proof that they were behind it, feel free to take Albrekt out. But Winegar, we need to be very cautious how we handle him.”
 
There had been no Hastenfraktan monarch in Austalgotha since 1917. Since Austalgotha became independent, for a Hastenfraktan monarch to enter would mean they recognized their independence as legitimate. Today, Queen Esmeralda stepped up the stairs to the Sansadselaegrad to great fanfare, and shook Anjali Rathkenhaem’s hand.

Anjali returned the warm handshake, then they both turned and waved to the cheering crowd and the cameras recording the event. They stood smiling long enough for people to see them standing there, for pictures to be taken, and video recorded. Then they entered the reception hall of the legislative building.

“Welcome to Austalgotha, Your Majesty,” Anjali said to her counterpart. The entire assembly of the upper house of the Sansadselaegrad was present for this historic occasion. “On behalf of the people of Austalgotha, and of Walken, I welcome the first Hastenfraktan monarch to visit our nation in over two hundred years.”

“I am honored to be here, Grand Vizier.” Esmerald faced the assembled representatives. “A hundred years is too long a wait, too long to ignore a people’s right to independence. This is an auspicious day for us all. Let Hastenfrakta and Austalgotha set aside our old grudges. Let there be peace in the Vestrugat. Long live the Emperor!”

There was loud applause at this short speech, and a number of shouts of “Long Live the Emperor”. Though some people looked uncomfortable hearing the words. Not everyone was yet onboard with Sherwin’s ascension.

Then Esmeralda was led into the assembly hall where she would sign an official recognition of the Republic of Austalgotha and denounce any Hastenfraktan claims to their land.

It was a day for strange meetings. While Esmeralda was in Lamidath putting an end to a century long grudge, another meeting was taking place that would hopefully avoid future violence. Braevin Raederman stood before the emperor in a small meeting room of the Dragostspaer in karthied.

“The Sons of Kaerwent were not involved in the attack on Karthied,” Braevin assured Sherwin and a handful of his advisers. “It is my intention to turn the Sons away from their past as freedom fighters and make them an organization that provides aid to the people of Aerndreffed. If any member was involved in this atrocity, I swear they will be punished and we will not protect nor harbor them…”

Sherwin held up his hand, putting a stop to the young man’s speech. “Kyaerwun, your uncle, ordered the Sons to disband, did he not?”

“He did. And I complied. We had finally achieved our goal of an independent state. Yet some refused to accept this new reality. When I heard that other, less honorable men, were leading the Sons I chose to take command myself, lest their actions bring more violence against my people.”

“So your actions were to prevent violence?” asked one of Sherwin’s advisors, a man that Braevin didn’t recognize.

“Yes. I want peace between Aerndreffed and the rest of the Vestrugat.”

Sherwin approached Braevin and stood before him. “And would you be willing to prove it?”

Braevin realized he had little choice. Accept and do what the Emperor requested, or refuse and have the Sons be rounded up and likely executed or imprisoned. He knew coming here that he would be at the mercies of Sherwin. “Whatever you request.”

“The Sons will require oversight. They will not be allowed to continue freely, whatever noble cause you claim. You will report directly to the government of the Vestrugat. You will be required to give a list of all your members to our intelligence agency. I’m sure you understand what will happen if you refuse.”

Braevin nodded. “There are some who will not like this. They may very well splinter off and form their own group.”

Sherwin spoke coldly. “They will be removed then.”
 
Dearest Sherwin,

I am greatly sorry to hear of the loss of your daughter and my niece Sigurda. The pain and hardship you must feel after losing a child is immeasurable. I just want you to know that you and your wife have my family’s sympathies.

These are troubling times for the Hastfradic people as a whole. Not only has royal blood been spilled and that of innocents but wars for independence causing a great loss of life. We as a people and as brothers need to stand strong in these tiring times.

I would like for you to come to Degkantelburn with Prince Albrekt and me at Safir Raekthof to discuss how we can combat terrorism together. I hope you will accept the invitation and join us.

With my Condolences,
Winegar Roriksen
 
“You can’t go.”

Sherwin stared out his window, a habit that had become more and more common over the last few weeks. He could still see the empty place where the Gyeort theater had been. His son had just finished reading the letter from Winegar and his reaction was what Sherwin had expected.

“It’d be like walking into a pit of vipers,” Sherwin agreed. He wished Baeleg was here, but he had escorted the royal family to Goyanes. Even Alwur was occupied. He could have used either of their opinions. “But refusing might tip them off that we know.”

“They intend to kill you,” Irwin said. It was something Sherwin had thought about.

“That’d be stupid of them.”

He sighed and turned to face his son. “I’ll accept the invitation. Truthfully I don’t have much choice. Until Alwur finds hard evidence that they were behind the bombings, than we can’t move against them.”

He could see the worry and uncertainty in his son’s face. “I won’t be alone. I’ll take a dozen Huskavrals with me. And perhaps I’ll even be able to flush the truth out while I’m there.”

Irwin nodded, knowing that this was the best course of action. Sherwin dismissed his son and sat down to write a response.


Dear Winegar

I thank you for your condolences. In times like these it is important for us to come closer together. I accept your invitation and look forward to visiting Kaludgar. Give my sister and the children my best.

Your Brother-in-Law
Sherwin
Emperor of the Vestrugat

Diabolic -Demons and Wizards
 
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The sky was silent overlooking the rural airport. It was buried deep within the countryside of Kaludgar only used for farmers and remote airdrop-shipments for those that called the Kaludkregs home. There were special occasions when it would find other uses, like the President using it to get to his summer palace...or for events like this one.

Winegar stood diligently at the side of the airport wondering when King Sherwin’s flight might arrive. Prince Albrekt accompanied him on this trip with his own small dispatchment, chief among them being the bastard Sigurt of Alstenbek. Not a word was said unless it was Albrekt’s occasional moan and groan about how it was “too cold” or he “couldn’t breathe”, it grew tiring very quickly.

The airport was placed high in the mountains, like an angry fist directed towards its creator at the sky above. Raising around it were the mountains themselves giving the airport the seclusion and secrecy it required. Jagged and uniform with each different rocky formation containing its own unique crag at the spearhead of the mountain. At the high-rise of the kregs a thick fog had begun to settle. It gave off a misty and damp cold.

One thing that struck Winegar full of awe about his brother-in-law was his determination and drive, even after the death of his own child. That was one thing Winegar could never truly understand himself. His children were his sun and stars and he would give anything for each of them. There would be blood spilled though, he knew that much. As much as he disliked or didn’t get along with Sherwin, that determination would lead to a revenge that even Winegar couldn’t predict.

It was later into the evening so naturally as it fell its course, the sun began to set. Its beams broke through the fog and lit up the valleys below, radiant and bright like a solar flare as the shade of the sky changed and melted into a beautiful blend of gold and pink. The sky could not be seen clearly by those at the airport but the silhouette of its color could be.

As the sky began to turn dark a thundering noise could be hard echoing throughout the mountains from above the clouds, its screeching and booming sound growing louder and louder each second. Then finally as the sound came right upon them a private jet broke through the cloud and fog layers of the dusk sky and touched down on the airport.

Once the plane had descended and it had stopped running out came the man of the hour. The man, the myth, the legend. Sherwin slowly went down the jet’s door and took it step-step-by-step. Winegar extended his hand with a firm grip. “Welcome to Kaludgar.”
 
Though the flight from Karthied to Kaludgar was a short one, Sherwin used the opportunity to nap. He’d had so little sleep and at his age he knew to grab what he could. Once again he had the dream. The cabin. The mountains.

He could hear Laenora playing the piano this time, but when he entered the drawing room she wasn’t there and the pino stood empty. He didn’t stay long, knowing where he’d find her. He opened the back door, which should have looked out on the towering Halkonkregs, but he knew they wouldn’t be there. Instead a great green lawn stretched away to a wide river. Standing on the bank he could see Laenora.

He didn’t run to her this time. Instead he walked, feeling shame and trepidation. Next to his first wife stood a young girl, and Sherwin knew her too. His little Silvia.

Another woman stood beyond them, knee deep in the river behind. He couldn’t make out who she was, but knew that he knew her. Behind her a great towering ship stood at anchor, its sails rolled away. The vessel bobbed gently in the current, trying to pull away downstream from its anchors.

The plane shook as it began its descent and Sherwin woke up. The dream however didn’t fade, but the emperor pushed it away. He had to be her in the now.

The plane landed and Sherwin was greeted by his brother-in-law, as well as the Prince of Saegsen. He accepted Winegar’s welcome. “It’s always a pleasure to visit our southern brothers,” he said pleasantly.

He then turned to Albrekt. “It was strange to hear you would be here as well,” he said to the Prince. “I suppose you’re going public with your new alliance?”


Albrekt wrinkled his nose at Sherwin’s comment, but he wasn’t surprised the emperor knew about his and Winegar’s alliance. The Esplandians were always well informed. “It couldn’t be avoided any longer. No secrets between us, Raektdev.”

Sherwin smiled in agreement. They stood exchanging pleasantries for a while longer. Despite having Sherwin standing in front of them, it was the President of Kaludgar he found himself watching more closely.

The attack on Karthied had been a surprise to him. In honesty, he had considered striking at the new emperor, yet he’d never have had the audacity to carry out a terror attack of such magnitude. Could Winegar be that bold? Perhaps he didn’t truly understand the man he had made a deal with. And if Winegar hadn’t ordered the attacks, then who had?

These were all questions in his mind as they left the airport, heading for Winegar’s palace.
 
After their pleasantries had been exchanged and some slight conversation had lightened the mood the men were escorted to their limos located on the side of the airfield. One for Sherwin and his small cohort of men and the other that Winegar had taken with Albrekt. Their cars slowly left the airfield and traversed through the Kaludkregs, nightfall now upon them.

As they continued on the long and winding roads through the mountains to Winegar’s palace, his thoughts were mainly on Albrekt. His terror attacks in Karthied were sloppy and terribly executed. Random bombings around the city was an awful choice for him to make. His hope signing the alliance with Albrekt was that he would luckily be a more cold and calculated person. Terror bombing Sherwin’s children on a whim wasn’t as calculating nor as intelligent as he was hoping for in a partner. If Winegar had done it himself than it would have been far cleaner.

One or two bombings to take out the entire Esplandian Royal Family, Sherwin and all of his children would hopefuly have been killed with one but in the event that Irwin wasn’t in the area two would do. Then finally a couple more concentrated ones on government officials to spur further dissent. It was too late now though and Albrekt had left them quite a huge mess to deal with.

The biggest mistake was by far leaving Sherwin alive and one of his children dead and the other a cripple. Sherwin’s mother, Katharin, was a lioness amongst sheep during her reign. Her ruthlessness notorious even to prominent families like the Roriksens. On some deeper level Winegar had hoped this ruthlessness hadn’t transferred over to Sherwin but he had to have inherited some of it. The drive of a man who had lost his child worried him. After all, it was far too suspicious that in a time when Sherwin needed it he just so happened to have the Crown of Alstenbek thrown into his lap. Their whole family wiped out. Well all except one of course.

The ride to Safir Raekthof was long and dubious. Jagged roads that pushed and pulled those in the cars all over but eventually they reached their destination. From a view in the mountains the palace was illuminated by the light inside and out. The pathway leading to the entrance was littered with lamposts that looked like little matches from their distance. The main attraction was the lake though.

The light coming off of the palace melded with the light of the moon in a beautiful dance on the surface of the saphire blue lake. There were no surrounding towns or any civilization. Just the palace, the calm lake, and the inhabitants heading for it.

The limousines entered through the front gate of the palace and pulled in front of the grandiose entrance. A water fountain with two dolphins appearing as if they were swimming in the water while a vast and luscious green garden full of all types of flora that filled the air with sweet intoxicating smells. The guests were led inside through the large oaken doors and into the entrance hall. The floor was marble with granite patterns inside of it, the walls were decorated with paintings of former Kaludgarian war heroes, most predominantly from the Dalkaegn Civil War.

The guests were then led through the palace to the larger and more open personal study of the President. A large 75 inch plasma flatscreen TV located in the front of the room and to its side an Imperial Grand Piano imported from Maloria like all of the best pianos are. Bookshelves extended high on the walls with the finest and most decorated Kaludgarian authors on a wide variety of subjects. Finally, a large rosewood desk situated directly in the front of the room. Three chairs, two for Winegar and Albrekt and then on the other one for Sherwin. It was obviously a power move on his part just to remind the newly crowned Emperor who’s country he was in.

Before they began he signaled over to one of his servants, be brought them each a crystal glass cup and filled it to the top with traditional Kaludgarian brandy. Winegar looked at both of them grinning. “Gentleman you are drinking traditional homemade Kaludgarian brandy made in these very mountains.” He took a sip. “Ooohhh that’s good.”

Once the drink settled into his stomach he began. “Well gentlemen shall we begin?”
 
(OOC: This post was cowritten by Nog and I, but we posted it as one post)

Sherwin declined the brandy. He was in no drinking mood. He looked thoughtfully around the room. Albrekt and Winegar sat apart from each other, he noticed. How stable was this alliance?

He’d left most of his guards outside in the main hall, taking only two men in with him (Huskavrals dressed in the blue of palace guards) and one aid, his niece Harrietta (the adopted daughter of his late brother). Winegar had a good number of people, and since it was his palace, most the guards in the room were his. Albrekt had brought quite a few of his own men, more even than Winegar. Though only a few were dressed in guard uniforms Sherwin felt many of the others were likely also guards disguised as staffers.

Sherwin took a seat, wincing at a pain in his knee that had been getting worse the last few months. It was hell getting old. “I think first off, I’d like to hear how this little alliance of yours came to be.”

Albrekt drank the Kaludgarian brandy, and made a sour face. Not because it was bad, in fact it was quite good, but because it was Kaludgarian. Plus he preferred Mirillian Mead anyway.

He put the empty glass down on a table next to him. “Your ascension to emperor began it,” Albrekt said bluntly. Sherwin raised an eyebrow at the prince’s answer, but Albrekt ignored it. “We’re all worried you’re new title will come with a lack of sovereignty on our end.”

Sherwin ribbed at his knee. “A fair fear for your part,” the emperor agreed mildly. “And I doubt any reassurances from me would do nothing to alleviate that fear.”

Winegar just stared back stoutly but Albrekt answered. “No.”

“For every action there is a reaction,” the emperor continued. “As I can attest to with this attack on Karthied. Now, Winegar, tell me your ideas for combatting terrorism in the Vestrugat.”

As the President of Kaludgar began answering, Albrekt noticed Sigurt. He was staring at the emperor, a strange expression on his face.

Sigurt had never been this close to the emperor. He’d been at the enthronement and had seen him from afar, but not face to face. The emperor had politely greeted him at the airport, and Sigurt had worried Sherwin would see who he was, but there was no recognition as he moved on to greet the next person.

It was perhaps that, most of all, which he found the most unforgiving. You murdered my family just for their throne, he thought, and you don’t even recognize me.

It was a stupid thought. That was what they wanted, his identity to be a secret until the time was right. But Sigurt couldn’t help seething at the unjustness of it. Sure he was a bastard son, but his grandfather had been caring to him, if distant.

And now the man who’d killed his family was sitting in the same room, talking casually, as if there was no blood on his hands. That was unforgivable. He began inching closer as Winegar began to speak.

Written by @Esplandia



Winegar savored in his brandy before he said anything. In all honesty he was quite offended that his brother-in-law wouldn’t even take a sip of the drink he offered him. Well either way it was his fault because it was a pretty damn good brandy.

“Firstly, I think if we really wanted to take the necessary steps to ensure something like this doesn’t happen, cooperation is key. Unlike most other countries in Eras we have the benefit of sharing a common ancestry and history; a bond forged through fire and blood, be it from fighting the Syrixians off of this continent to pushing the Talamnic animals to Daelfen. We have done all of this together.” It took a great deal of self-discipline and willpower in order for him not to bust out laughing at the utter horse shit he was saying. He had a feeling Albrekt was in the same boat as he was but he couldn’t tell, the most important thing though was that Sherwin was buying it.

“If we want to curb terrorism we need to fight it together. So I am proposing between the three of us a joint intelligence agency solely with the task of combating terrorism. This isn’t a time for hatred and division, Sherwin you lost a child. We need to do everything in our power to prevent anyone else from having to go through the same terrible thing as you have. This is for the good of the people.” Another shot of brandy down the hatch.

Written by @Nogori



Sigurt kept moving around the room, not listening to the conversation. He had only one thought on his mind, to get as close to the emperor as he could. All other thoughts had been driven from his mind. He knew what he had to do.

He got up to only a few feet from the chair Sherwin was sitting in, and waited. He would need to be quick before anyone could stop him.

As Winegar spoke, one of the Kaludgarians passed out some data sheets to Albrekt and Sherwin. The emperor half stood to take the papers and Sigurt knew it was now or never.

He drew a knife he’d kept hidden in his jacket sleeve. He heard Albrekt say something, and Sherwin started to turn, but Sigurt moves fast. He drove the knife deep into the emperor’s side, piercing between his ribs.

Sherwin stares blankly at his attacker, not understanding why. The room was erupting into chaos, people moving to stop Sigurt, but time had seemed to slow around him. He pulled the knife out and stabbed the emperor again, this time lower in his abdomen. He stabbed again and again and again and again...until someone grabbed him and pulled him away.

“I am Sigurt Auvestet-Hadeg,” he screamed as he was pulled away. “Son of Elaena Auvestet-Hadeg, and grandson of King Sigurt IX, rightful king of Alstenbek...” a hand was clasped over his mouth as someone else wrenched the knife from his hand.

Sherwin had fallen to his knees, people were gathered around him, trying to stop the bleeding. He was looking Sigurt in the eyes, understanding finally coming to his gaze. “I see,” he said. Sigurt couldn’t hear his words over the commotion, but he read the movement of his lips.

Sherwin closed his eyes and the pain faded away. The punctures in his gut, the hole in his side, even the ache in his knee. All of it gone.

He was back in the cabin in the Halkonkregs. The sound of the piano was coming from the drawing room. But he didn’t go there, he knew she wasn’t there anyway. She was waiting for him.

He opened the back door. The green lawn stretched away to a river, a great ship anchored on the bank. A crowd awaited him this time. They smiled as he approached. He knew their faces. Elaena and Silvia our front. He saw his mother, recognizing her now as the woman who’d been waiting in the river before. He saw lost friends and family. His older brother, now standing tall and strong, the disorder that had crippled him no longer present. He saw his old friend Raemond Montagmar, who had died of cancer last year.

He also saw nine women standing around the waiting group. They were dressed in golden armpit, carrying spears which gleamed brightly in the sun. He knew them to be Erujakir, but he had always believed there was only seven. But here stood two more he didn’t know. Though one of them he felt he knew, though he couldn’t place her face.

“It is time,” Elaena said taking his hand as he stepped in front of them. Silvia took his other.

“Is this my ship to Aeor?” he asked. “Are you all here to accompany me?”

“You’ve earned it,” his mother said, smiling proudly.

“I was not a perfect king. I lied. I murdered. I...”

“You did what you felt was right. Now only Aela can judge you.”

“I was not as strong as you.”

His mother laughed, a merry laugh. “You did what I could not. You unified the Vestrugat. You walked tall, above the brutality of Hastfradic politics. You may have stumbled at the end, but you were a better ruler, a better person, than me.”

Elaena smiled at him. “Are you ready?” she asked. He nodded.

His dead wife and his dead child lead him to the edge of the river and aboard the boat which would take them down the celestial river Elunenborn, to the city of Aeor.

Written by @Esplandia

Wayfaring Stranger - Rhiannon Giddens



Winegar sat stunned at what he had just witnessed in front of him. His brother-in-law had just been murdered in his palace. Not only just his brother-in-law but an emperor of a very powerful country that was far too close for his liking. Retaliation for Sigurt’s actions would be bloody and ruthless. Thousands would die, if not millions for the action that that stupid boy had just done.

His hand stayed clasped around his mouth as he was deep in thought about what his next move would be. He looked over at Albrekt and then to the rest of the guards and the servants in the room. If there was one thing that had to be done right away it was to neutralize any of the witnesses that could let any information out first before they were ready. The most prominent of them at the moment being Sherwin’s guards.

He called one of his guards over to him as the reality of what had just happened settled down and the chaos of the room had died. He pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “Listen to me, I want his men taken care of immediately, you know what you have to do. No survivors. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir.”

“I want this body taken care of afterwards and no one is leaving this palace. I want the staff executed once we’re done.”

The guard nodded and then walked over to the rest of the men to inform them of what Wienegar’s orders were. They pulled out their pistols and then walked out into the hallway.

Written by @Nogori



Harrietta Kalder had watched her uncle get stabbed. She covered her mouth in shock. As one of the emperor’s guards moved forward the other led her quickly from the room. She was still in shock as the guard informed the rest of the entourage what had just transpired.

Her hands were shaking as the guard led her to the side. He tried comforting her and she did her best to hold back the tears. She noticed some of Winegar’s guards come out, guns in hand.

Then gunshots rang out inside. She jumped at the sound and then the guards in the hallway opened fire. She didn’t see much of what happened as the guard who’s been comforting her pulled her through a doorway into a side room. He slammed it shut behind them, quickly found a chair, and wedged the door shut with it.

She backed away from the door, as gunfire continued to come from outside. There was so much it sounded like a battlefield. The guard pulled her back. “We need to find a way out of here,” he said.

She looked around the room but there was no other way out. The guard however eyed the big windows overlooking a garden. He picked up another char and smashed out the window, then using his gun to break out the sharp shards left in the sill. He grabbed Harrietta and in two quick strides he pulled her out the window. They fell two stories, landing in a prickly hedge below.

She felt the shrubbery ripping at her closed and exposed arms, but the guard was up and helping her out within a few minutes. He took a second to check her scratches. She felt herself shaking in terror. Above her she could hear someone smashing against the door. The guard held her by the shoulders. “You’re alright,” he assured her, “but we need to move quickly. Can you keep up?”

She nodded, still too shocked to talk. He stood straight, taking her hand and then they dashed across the garden. They raced away, heading outside the garden gate. They disappeared around a wall just as three Kaludgarian guards jumped down from the window behind them, racing to follow.

Written by @Esplandia



The guards wasted no time looking for the duo that had escaped the massacre of the rest of their retinue. They searched all throughout the garden and around statues and in the bushes. Each place after the next was empty and they had thought that their hunt was over until they heard a twig get broken out behind the garden’s gate.

They each took their positions on the other side of the gate with two in the front and then the third staying in the back to cover their rear. The vegetation and plant life growing on the gate made it hard to view what was happening on the other side but they crept forward slowly. The fertilizer and dirt on the ground masked their steps.

“Come on out, we have you outnumbered” the guard in the front shouted. They got closer to the edge of the gate. “There’s no use in putting up a fight and killing you both. You’re just letting that poor woman die for nothing. Be smart and just come out from behind the gate.”

They heard walking on the other side of the gate and readied their pistols in the air for preparation of a fight but when they came around the corner the Esplandian had his pistol back in his holster and Harrietta behind him. They lowered their pistols. “Good, you made the smart choice. Now just come with us and we’ll take you to the President.”

The guards began to take the two up a set of stairs before the third guard in the back hoisted his pistol back up. One after the other, he unloaded several rounds into the guard that had been talking and then a single shot into the other one’s skull. His blood and brains splattered all over the bottom steps of the stairs with a large hole where his eye used to be while the other guard’s blood started gathering around him almost as if it was in the shape of a bright and ruby red angel.

He looked at Harrietta and her protector and then at the two men he had just murdered. “Come with me” he said in a coarse and gruff tone leading them through the gate and down several sets of stairs. They were stopped by several other guards but the man quickly disposed of all of them just as adeptly as he had with the others. Finally, they had made it to the outskirts of the palace near the lake where there was a small rowboat and a small rundown dock.

He pointed with his long crooked finger to a small abandoned shack that hadn’t been used in years on the other side of the lake. “You see that shack all the way over there? Row there as fast as you can and there is going to be a small pathway that is going to lead you into farmland. No matter what, avoid all the roads you possibly can and keep going north. You’re going to eventually end up in the Dalkaegns. Once you make it back to Esplandia make sure to tell Prince Irwin everything that has happened here. Now get the fuck out of here, I’ll hold anyone off for as long as I can.”

The two quickly got into the rowboat and made their way across the lake hearing several gunshots in the distance before they finally made it to the shack.

Written by @Nogori



Albrekt had never seen violence this close. Oh he’d ordered his fair share of it, but never witnessed it first hand. It was an unpleasant experience all around.

Sigurt’s actions had caught him off guard. He’d known something was off with the young man, but to murder the emperor? That was beyond Albrekt’s imagination.

As Winegar took control of the situation, ordering Sherwin’s guards killed, Albrekt approached the body of the dead emperor. It was intriguing. A few minutes ago he’d been so worried about this man’s actions. He’d seemed so large and powerful. Now he was nothing.

He turned to face Sigurt. “Why?” he asked, his blood rising at what the bastard had done. “This will be all of our heads!”

“He killed my family,” the boy answered.

“That’s not good enough,” Albrekt roared.

“That’s all the reason I needed,” Sigurt countered.

Albrekt sighed. The sounds of gunfire in the hall had ended. He hoped Winegar would have a plan for this now. They would never be able to cover this up for long. “The Esplandians are going to want vengeance for this. It’ll be war.”

“They were supposed to be at war with the Aernish,” Sigurt said, his voice haughty like a petulant youth. “The attack should have started a war, but Sherwin was too much of a coward.”

“What have you done?” Albrekt asked, confused at what the boy was telling him.

“I bombed Karthied. I had men loyal to my grandfather plan the attack, but it was me. You talk a lot about helping me get justice, but you were doing nothing. I had to help myself.”

Blaegfyurd Palace, Karthied

The news rocked Irwin to his core. His cousin stood bruised and weary before him, having told what she’d seen. Raum Kolta and Alwur Skeowaeng stood silently behind the prince, their faces grim. Alwur had a cold glint in his eye, one that could freeze a person to their core.

Irwin put his face in his hands, fighting to hold back the rage and despair in his heart. His father was dead. Murdered.

“Winegar and Albrekt were hiding the grandson of Sigurt IX this whole time,” Raum said disbelieving.

“They’ll pay,” Alwur said. “They’ll all pay.”

Irwin finally looked up. He dismissed Harrietta, ordering her to tell no one else. After she left he turned to the two men. “What do we do now?”

Alwur put a comforting hand on Irwin’s shoulder. “You are emperor now. It’s up to you to decide.”

He looked from one man to another, seeing the anger in both their eyes. Finally he made up his mind. “We must assemble the army. We will drag Winegar from his palace and bring him to justice. Albrekt will also pay as well as this murderous bastard he’s been hiding. If they think they can murder my father and get away with it than I will prove them wrong and bring war to their doorstep.”

Written by @Esplandia


This is War - Matthew Raetzel
 
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Adonai-Jireh, Iraelia

Taneli Gadi watched in shock as the news played before the assembled Iraelian cabinet. Reports from the Yeniem poured in.

"They're saying he's dead" Eshkar Hiskiyah remarked, as the news played.
"Yeah it's official. Sherwin's dead." Razya Atzil nodded. He couldn't believe it himself. He barely spoke to Eshkar, the two were political rivals who had put aside old feuds for the sake of forming a government. But he couldn't help it. He wasn't sure what else to say.

"Yeah...the whole damn continent's going to tear itself apart."

"Lenny" Gadi said, her voice trembling.
"What are our capabilities? Can we deploy soldiers to the Vestrugat?"

"We can. The Trillium Compact makes it easier. We can deploy emergency response measures and have our soldiers in support of...are they calling him Emperor yet?" Lenny Nezer asked as he looked to the tv.

"Yes. Irwin IV" Atzil replied.

"We're going to need soldiers there without a doubt" Hiskiyah added.
"This won't blow over. We're going to have a full-on war on our hands."

Gadi nodded...she'd only been Prime Minister for a few weeks before she had to intervene in Astragon...but Murza was merely a paper tiger. One who folded once only a bit of pressure was applied. This...she'd heard stories of the Prydanian Civil War. She had taken it upon herself, back when she was a member of the opposition, to visit the Shaddaist communities in Prydania in the aftermath of that conflict. The death, the destruction. The sheer devastation. There was no way around it. That was coming to the Vestrugat. It all seemed so surreal. Icenia had known peace for so long. The recent political turmoil had been settled for good by Sherwin- or so she thought. Now, with one dead man, the entire board had changed. War. Fire. Death. It was coming. It was inevitable. And humbling to see a seemingly secured peace crumble before one's eyes.

"Madame Prime Minister?" Nezer asked.
"What are we going to do?"

Taneli felt everything move in slow motion for just a moment as she looked down at the stack of folders aids had continued to pile in front of her.
"Make a statement" she said quietly.
"Ask Irwin's government if he requires our military assistance. And alert the TC. We're preparing for war."




statement:
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Emperor Irwin IV and the people of the Vestrugat. I address you all as a friend in these troubling times. Emperor Sherwin was a beacon of peace and stability in the world. We mourn his loses for these reasons, but also because above all of this he was a friend to Iraelia. Our peoples are not strangers to each other, and the State of Iraelia will stand by its friends. We stand by the legitimate government of Emperor Irwin and all of those who are loyal to it. We offer aid in the form of supplies, machinery, and, if Shaddai deems it so, soldiers. Iraelia stands for peace, but has never feared conflict. We do not fear it today. May we find comfort and security in each other as we face the challenges of the future together.
תנלי גדי
Taneli Gadi
Prime Minister of the State of Iraelia
 
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correspondence:
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To: His Majesty, Irwin IV, by the will of the people, Emperor of the Vestrugat, and King of Esplandia and of Alstenbek

There is no way to describe the feeling that comes with the death of a father. The coming strife may seem hopeless and terrifying but if you believe in your family, allies, your countrymen, and your friends you can find the strength to see them through it. Believe in the light, and the darkness isn't as cold. I wish you, your realm, and your people nothing but the best in the coming strife and the years beyond it.
your friend,

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Tobias III Loðbrók Konunglegur
His Majesty, by the Grace of God, King of Prydania, Lord Protector of Austurland, Marshal of Beaconsviði, Lord Uniter, Defender of the Faith
 
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To Emperor Irwin and all of the Vestrugatian people –

I am deeply saddened to hear the news of the passing of Emperor Sherwin V. These are troubling times and I sincerely hope that the nation can recover from this tragedy and its people remain strong. On behalf of the Crowned Republic, I offer nothing but the best of wishes for the future.

Sincerely,
Diego II

Crown Prince of Highton
 
Pataliputra, Syrixian Empire

Across the Meterran Sea, as reports from the Yeniem flowed into Adonai-Jireh, so too did reports from the Darshak flow into Pataliputra. The Cabinet watched, shocked, as the news played out before them. At once a statement was written up - however, there was another step that had to be taken. While the Government generally took care of domestic policy and issues, the Emperor had, utilizing the powers that came with his immense popularity, taken personal leadership in foreign policy ever since the failure of the Phoenix Union. Any statements of this magnitude had to be approved by the Emperor before being released.

Diwan Sahab and Rahul Khanna entered the Emperor's office, giving the usual bow upon doing so before walking across the room. Rajesh was clearly disturbed. He had gotten to know Sherwin like none of his forefathers had ever known any of Sherwin's. The two were on a first name basis. For Sherwin to suddenly be snatched from the world as he was, by Kaludgar no less - a state with a long historic enmity with his own. Rajesh was still recovering from what had happened earlier in the month in Predice. Now this? Kaludgar had crossed a line. This was personal.

For a few moments, there was but an awkward silence within the large chamber until Diwan Sahab finally spoke. "Your Majesty." the State Curator began, with the proper reverence due to the Jade Throne. "Your Majesty's Government has urgent news to report from Icenia - news of a disturbing nature."

Rajesh looked up. "Spare me the theatrics, Mr. State Curator." he replied. "I know what those bastards did. Wrath of Prajapati be upon them. Sherwin will be avenged. This is murder. Callous murder."

Secretary Khanna handed the Emperor the statement the Government had written. Rajesh quickly and firmly nodded in approval, then producing his own paper. It was highly unusual for a Syrixian Emperor to send out personal letters to foreign leaders, but these were unusual times and Rajesh was never a man of blind tradition. He needed to write it and Irwin needed to read it.

"Send this as well. Specifically to Irwin."

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STATEMENT IN MEMORIAM OF SHERWIN V OF ESPLANDIA, ALSTENBEK, AND THE VESTRUGAT

We are heartbroken and saddened to hear of the tragic loss of Sherwin V, King of Esplandia and Alstenbek and Raektdev of the Vestrugat, murdered callously by a perfidious thug who would call himself a President and a cabal of insidious conspirators. Sherwin was an honorable, compassionate, and just man. Under his reign, the Vestrugat was at last unified, ushering in a new era of prosperity for the region. Relations between the Vestrugat and the Empire improved greatly in large part thanks to him. We extend to the Vestrugat condolences beyond even sincerity.

This is a crime of historic proportions, and one which cannot go unpunished. HM Government pledges any and all necessary support to the Imperial Government of the Vestrugat and the Royal Government of Esplandia under Raektdev Irwin IV, and any other affected parties. Furthermore, as of the release of this statement, HM Government hereby suspends all diplomatic relations and ties with the Republic of Kaludgar. Sanctions shall be imposed and any and all Kaludgarian assets in the Empire shall be frozen indefinitely.

We pray for Raektdev Irwin IV. We pray for his safety and for his just rule in these dark times for his country. Thanks to his mighty father, we are now proud to call Esplandia and the Vestrugat as a whole our friends. In his memory, we intend to honor that friendship in perpetuity.

Rahul Khanna
Secretary of State of the Syrixian Empire
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स्वर्ण भवन - THE GOLDEN PALACE
पाटलिपुत्र - PATALIPUTRA
MARCH 29, 2001 SK - AD 2020

His Imperial Majesty
Irwin IV auf Drakosta
Emperor of the Vestrugat;
King of Esplandia-Alstenbek
Karthied

------​

Your Majesty:

It breaks my heart to hear what happened to your father yesterday. I first met him years ago, and knew him fairly well. We improved each other, both in terms of the states we ruled and in terms of ourselves as people. We buried the troubled past that binds us and came to be on a first name basis.

Your father was a good man; one of the greatest the Vestrugat has ever seen. I am immensely proud to have known him. I know what it is like to lose a father, but not like this. I can only imagine the pain you and your family are going through, and mine and I pray for you, and wish you peace and happiness now and throughout your rule.

We also pray that justice is served to those who committed this treacherous, unspeakable act of inhuman brutality. My Government has pledged all necessary support in bringing Winegar Roriksen and his cabal of murderous thugs to justice. I personally pledge the same. We know firsthand that Kaludgar can never be trusted, and now they have shown their true colors to the world.

The support of myself, my family, the Empire, and the international community is with you, your family, and your country. The past is dead - let us all march into the future together; to justice.

ड़जेश ष्.
(Rajesh, S.)​
-----------------

CROWNED, by Hirokazu Ando and Jun Ishikawa (Kirby's Return to Dream Land OST)
 
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The tiny village of Kwedlud had stood in the Fedderwuold valley for over thousands of years. It was originally settled by Skalts and then conquered by the Hastfrads. For a time there had even been a Kian garrison. It was a peaceful town, one where little happened. Entire generations had been born, lived, and died with little of note occuring.

Reasonably the locals felt immense tribulation as a battalion of Esplandian soldiers marched into the town in their blue and gray uniforms. The Federation flag flying proudly in the breeze. For Kwedlud stood a few miles from the Kaludgar border.

Already, up and down the border similar was occuring across other towns and villages. The Federation had begun mobilizing for war. Most were troops out of Esplandia, some from the Dalkaegns as well. Everyone knew that there was to be a war.

An old man, standing in his doorway watched the soldiers march past, down the main steet of Kwedlud. He smoked at a pipe, his brow wrinkled in worry. “Do you think there will actually be a war?” an old woman asked from inside the house. She was watching through the window.

The old man puffed out the smoke, then answered. “The Kaludgarians killed the Emperor. That can’t go past without bloodshed.”

“Should we leave. It might be safer in Amsfirth.”

The old man coughed. “And leave our home? The Esplandians will make short work of the Kaludgarians, I reckon.”


Declaration of War
His Imperial Majesty hereby declares a state of war exists between the Government of Kaludgar and the Government of Saegsen, and the Governments and People of the Federartion of the Vestrugat.

The President of Kaludgar and the Prince of Saegsen perfidiously murdered and assassinated our beloved Grettermand Fadder and Emperor Sherwin Drakosta.

Be it resolved that by the Witangamot of the Imperial Federation of the Vestrugat and by His Majesty Irwin Drakosta, that the state of war which is in just reaction hereby is formally declared, and the Emperor is hereby authorized and directed to employ the military and naval forces of the Imperial Federation and the resources of the various governments to carry on war against the Republic of Kaludgar and the Principality of Saegsen. Furthermore the Principality of Saegsen shall be expelled from the Federation, it’s protective status revoked and its rights and privileges under the constitution nulled.
 
There was no grand ceremony this time, no great celebration. Those lords and leaders known to be loyal would bear witness to the ceremony and it would be broadcast to the Federation after. Three months had passed since Sherwin had strode in triumph into Vestrugerwaertun Abbey and was enthroned as Emperor of the Vestrugat. Irwin’s ascension was more solemn.

“I swear before Aela and his Erujakirs, before all those present, and before the people’s of the Vestrugat, to uphold the rules and laws of the Federation, to respect and honor the rights and traditions of her people, to settle disputes to the benefit of all without bias, and to protect and defend this land from all threats against her. I shall hold the office of Raektdev by mandate of the people of the Vestrugat until my last breath, keeping trust between the nobility and the citizens, so I swear. In the name of Aela, I swear!”

The words were the same as his father’s, but now twinged with a bitter betrayal. The Allfather then anointed the Prince with holy oil. Irwin then spoke the oaths of both Esplandia and Alstenbek as their kings. The Archbishop of Taeberus anointed Irwin for Esplandia, and the Allfather for Alstenbek. No clergyman of Alstenbek would take the honors.

After Irwin presented the constitution to Raum Kolta a cry rose up, not a jubilant cry, but a solemn chorus. “Hail, Irwin auf Drakosta! Raektdev of Vestrugatia! Hail!”

When silence returned Irwin took the time to speak a few words. “We must not forget the accomplishments of my father. Though we face the future unsure as if standing upon a precipice, we must not forget that we stand unified against all evil.

“Aen Ael! Aen Werfulk! Aen Vestrugatia!”*


The Huskavrals entered Saegsen just after noon, six hundred of Esplandia’s elite fighters. They were supported by six thousand Esplandian soldiers and a division of heavy armor. Their destination was Saegsberg with orders to take the capital of the principality and bring Albrekt into custody.

Raemond Drakosta rode in the front of a personnel carrier. He was thinking about his brother. He’d never really been close to Sherwin, always finding him too broody and far too concerned with courtly behavior. Yet he now felt a deep guilt that they’d not been closer. He certainly wasn’t close with his sisters, and Sherwin had at least shown him affection.

As they drove closer to their destination he felt more and more that this mission would be atonement for the cold and brash way he’d always treated his brother, both of his brothers.

“Command reports Saegsen military is gathering thirty miles ahead,” his radioman reported. “Still no word about Alstenbek reinforcements.”

Raemond clicked his radio on. “I don’t expect any. They’re still sore that an Esplandian’s ruling them.” He smiled thinking about how much he wished he could just take his men and remove each one of the rebellious Alstenbek lords from their lands and titles. Would serve them right. “How many enemies can we expect up ahead?” he asked.

“Intelligence reports about two thousand, but more are heading our way.”

Raemond acknowledged the report. It appeared the Sagseners hadn’t been expecting such a quick response. Hopefully they could achieve their mission quickly, then head south to pay Winegar a visit.


The first clash occurred an hour later. Huskavrals met the Saegsen forward guard at a small factory and after a brief fire fight they secured the building. The rest of the column began catching up. Raemond decided it was as good a place as any to set up his command post.

His troops continued on, heading towards the capital. The prince had just finished brewing himself a pot of tea when the report came in. “The Sagseners force has pushed towards us.”

Raemond received the report and began having his radio operators start sending out orders. He listened to the incoming reports as his men met the enemy and started pushing them back. He smiled as he heard about his men, his Huskavrals, meeting the enemy gallantly. He was a bit of a romantic when it came to war.

He poured himself another cup of tea, and put the cup to his lips. It was then that he heard the familiar sound. In an instant the building around him was being blown apart by artillery fire.
Around him people were scrambling for cover. He ducked behind a piece of machinery as one of the buildings walls was hit directly, exploding in a cloud of debri.

“Get command on the line,” he yelled at a radio operator. “Ask them where the hell that fire is coming from?”

More shells rained down around them. The building however seemed to be withstanding the attack, but through the ruined wall he could see as most of his commands vehicles were already blown apart or heavily damaged.

“Command says the fire is coming from Sangerhaem.”

A cold fear gripped Raemond. “That’s in Alstenbek!” he said, as another explosion racked the building.

*Translation: One God! One People! One Vestrugatia!

Betrayal & Desolation - James Horner
 
Kraes Gyeorder heard the first explosions like a roll of thunder far off in the hills. But it was coming from across the river. He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned the pitchfork against the barn door before striding towards the river bank.

In was a bright day, heading in towards harvest and there was no clouds in the sky. Yet the thunder continued and as he listened it seemed to grow louder. Rising up and then dropping low, before once again rising again. It was getting closer.

“What is it, dad?” his oldest boy said walking up behind him.

He didn’t answer. A blue haze was forming above the treetops, and now gray plumes of smoke were rising into the air. Closer by, somewhere to the north he heard a quick rattle of weapons fire.

“Get your ma and your brothers. I need you to pack up enough clothes for a couple days and load them in the truck.”

“What’s going on?”

“Never mind that, just do as I say.”

The boy stared wide eyed at his father but quickly moved to do as he was told. Kraes looked around the farm, his heart racing. They’d need to get out in a hurry. But he had to secure the animals and pray that Aela would protect them. He closed up the barn and herded the chickens into their coop.

He unchained the dog and put him securely in the back of the old blue Fyurd. His boys were already loading their packed suitcases into the back, but he didn’t see his wife yet.

He strode over to the house, but she came out of the doorway dragging to big suitcases.

“Is it the Saegseners?” she asked on a panic. “Are they attacking?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, grabbing one of the suitcases and carrying it to the truck. He tossed it in the back and then lifted his youngest up into the back.

A loud explosion pulled their attention across the river. A plume of black smoke was rising into the air. What he assumed was artillery fire was raining down on the woods beyond.

“We’ve gotta go.” He tossed the last suitcase into the back.

“I gotta grab my moms ashes,” his wife told him.

He knew it’d be pointless to argue with her. “Run quickly.” He then called over his eldest as she ran back into the house. “Go grab my cellphone and make sure your mother hurries.”

He then started the truck. More gunfire was heard, much closer and he could see muzzle flashes in the woods. The artillery was tearing up the forest along the far shore and a few shells were coming down in the water.

He muttered angrily under his breath, but his son soon returned passing him his phone, and behind him was his wife with the urn her mother’s ashes were in. And a few other momentous and framed photos she’d grabbed. They climber in and he sped off down the driveway, heading south and away from the fighting. In his rear view mirror he could see men rushing out of the woods, which were now burning, and jumping into the river to get away.
 
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The sun warmed the Kaludgarian infantry as they orderly trampled through the mud. It had became a paste of wet earth, blood, and the limbs of those who had perished from the constant artillery barrage. Once the artillery had opened up a hole in the Esplandian’s lines the Kaludgarian tank divisions took full advantage of the opportunity. They had encircled the rest of the forces at the border and quickly crushed what was left of the remnants, giving them now the ability to freely waltz into their territory.

Riding beside and accompanying the infantrymen was a vast motorcade of officers. They had been sent exclusively by Winegar from their ivory palace at the Ministry of Protection in the Capital to make sure that this war goes by smoothly. If the enemy would get gunned down this easily over the course of the whole war then of course they wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

These men and boys had been brought up in an era of peace, not being able to experience the warfare of their forefathers against the likes of Syrixian imperialist parasites and the Talamnic menace. The military’s reaction had been quick due to the conscription currently in place. This would just be the first wave arriving, thousands more would pour into these royalist lands and bring glory to their republic.
 
Vestrugat Central News Channel

The screen came on. A young man with short cropped sandy brown hair sits behind a desk. He’s dressed in a gray suit. He’s about 17 years old. He holds himself with an air of authority. His hands are loosely clasped in front of him, resting on the desk. He begins to speak:

“My name is Sigurt Auvestet-Hadeg. My mother is Elaena Sigurthaer. My grandfather was Sigurt IX, King of Alstengeord. My existence has long been kept a secret from the people of my homeland; the bastard son of a mentally disturbed woman. And it would have continued to be kept if not for the deaths of my grandfather and my uncles.

“For the last two years I have been waiting to reveal myself, and now the day has come. The ascension of Sherwin Drakosta to the throne of Alstengeord was an unlawful act, one predicated on conspiracy and the brutal assassination of the royal family.

“An assassination carried out by the late King Sherwin and his agents. Taking the Alstengeord throne for himself he was able to subvert the sovereignty of this great nation, carve up their borders to give to an illegitimate Aernish state, and manipulate conflicts within the federation to name himself the Heir of Braegga. And then when his crimes were brought to light by the honorable Prince Albrekt and President Winegar, he attempted to have his perfidious Huskavrals murder them instead of letting the truth come forth.

“Now Esplandia has declared war on those who would stand for truth and right, instead of admitting that their beloved monarch had been killed in an attempted bloody coup.

“The truth can no longer be kept in the shadows. I declare Irwin Drakosta, my cousin, a usurper and I hereby denounce his rule. By birthright I claim the title of King of Alstengeord as rightful King, and call upon my people to rise with me and throw off the yoke of Esplandian rule. If the Federation does truly uphold truth and unity, they will join me and demand justice. And if not, then we will stand on the right side of history and defend our sovereignty against Esplandian injustice.

Uot Fraum vi Aeshes, Alstenherfulk!”*


*Translation: Out From the Ashes, People of Alstengeord!
 
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News started flooding back into Karthied and it was not good. The Kaludgarians had broken through the Esplandian lines. Smashed through them actually. Already they were headed towards Amsfirth and the Dalkaegn government was reeling. And even worse, the Huskavrals has been beaten. The Alstengeorders had joined the side of the rebels and now some boy was claiming to be the grandson of Sigurt IX.

Esplandians were flooding into military offices, volunteering for service by the thousands. But Irwin knew that it would be weeks before there’d be enough forces to reinforce his lines.

He entered his father’s office, his office, and found a dozen people already waiting for him. They were nobles and representatives from across the federation, and they wanted to know what he was doing about the two major defeats he’d just suffered.

“My military advisers are already drawing up a comprehensive plan,” he informed them. “Please, you must be patient.”

It was not an answer they wanted to hear and their demands got more angry. Finally frustrated at their unwillingness to be calm he dismissed them all from his office. He poured himself some strong whiskey and imagined putting a knife between Albrekt’s and Winegar’s ribs. It didn’t make him feel better, just more angry.

Someone knocked on his door, then his father’s (his) secretary stuck her head in. “Sorry to disturb you but your phone was busy.”

“I took it off the hook,” he said. “What is it.”

“You have a visitor,” she said.

“Tell them I’m busy.”

“Well, it’s the Queen if Hastenfrakta.”

Irwin sat up and straightened his suit. “Yes. Show her in.”

He stood up as Esmeralda entered the room. He pulled out the chair at his desk for her to sit down in. She was wearing a green dress embroidered with white lace doves, and a fur stole was draped over her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t informed you were in Karthied.” It had thrown him off that she was here.

She smiled warmly at him, a friendly and kind smile. “I purposely kept my travel plans a secret. A trick I learned from your father.” She saw the painful and weary look in his eyes and then added, “he was a good man.”

“What can I do for you, your highness?”

“Sigurt, the bastard prince of Alstengeord,” she stated. “I assume you’ve seen his address.”

“I have.”

“His existence complicated things.”

“I think it explains a lot.”

“Indeed?” Esmeralda cocked an eyebrow. “Nonetheless, we both know his existence means a good number of Alstengeorders will through their lot in with these rebels in Saegsen. In fact I heard some already have.”

“We have it under control. The Huskavrals will turn them back towards Saegsberg.”

“I know you don’t believe that. Your military is woefully unprepared. I’m here to pledge the forces of Hastenfrakta to your fight, my Emperor.”

Irwin felt himself breathing out in a deep sigh of relief. It couldn’t have come at a better time. This could mean a quick victory was still possible. “What do you ask in return?”

“The same thing I asked your father: keep the Vestrugat united. For all our sakes.”


The smell of smoke filled the air throughout the city. Reports claimed there was still fighting in the northern suburbs. The last Esplandian soldiers and their Huskavral dogs were trying to retreat to Aerndreffed and the Nalgorhaem police and soldiers of Alstengeord were fighting to make sure they didn’t return to the city. Yet the Kuningsgrad had been convened nonetheless.

The lords and nobles of the realm pouring into the city and the still damaged legislature buildings. The young man who had declared himself King was to give a speech. Hundreds of nobles came to see the boy for themself. They could see their old king in the features of this young Sigurt and many there and then decide to side with this boy. They’d already chosen to support Saegsen against the Esplandians and this bastard prince would give them legitimacy.

Not all were there though. No lords of Horganland were present. Nor was the duke of Braeggaland, though some of the counts were there.

“It is our destiny to be free,” spoke the bastard prince in a fiery voice. “We will not be subject to Esplandia and we will not forgive the usurpation of our throne.” Men and women cheered, and chants of “Death to Esplandia and the Murderer's son!” could be heard among the crowd. Though there were still some who seemed more troubled than fired up. One of them, a short woman wearing the sash of a Duchess got up and made her exit. A few others noticed her go and two followed her out.

“I take it you don’t like what you’re hearing, Fraeda,” a thin ancient man said. She recognized him as Aelwin, count of Scaefersbric. The other was the Baron of Hesserburn, a younger man named Vrald.

“This is a fool’s conflict,” Fraeda answered, “and that boy is no King.”

“You don’t think he’s Sigurt’s grandson?” Vrald asked.

“I have no doubt he is who he claims to be.” She fell silent as a clamour of cheers rose up in the Landesgrad halls. “But this isn’t a rebellion. It’s vengeance and bigotry, and I want no part of it.”

Count Aelwin looked around them to make sure they weren’t being listened to. “If the rest of the nobility supports this boy, we will be at war. Vestrubrethal borders Esplandia, andl will be on the frontlines.”

She sighed. “I won’t betray my countrymen, but I can’t morally support this war.”

The young man clicked his tongue impatiently. “I will at least hear this bastard prince out. If Sherwin was responsible for the old man’s death then it is our duty to fight.” He then turned and stormed back to the main chamber.

Aelwin watched him go then turned towards the Duchess. “He has a point. What if Sherwin was behind the bombings?”

She snorted in disgust. “Sherwin was no murderer, despite everything else he was. Whatever happens here today, though, we seal our own fate. If we choose to seek out vengeance with blood and fire then we will pay the price for that.”

The old count nodded. “Will you be returning to Dolgelleth?”

She nodded. “You?”

“Like the boy said, I’ll hear this Sigurt out first. But I won’t support tearing apart the Vestrugat in a pointless conflict.”
 
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Major General Akiva Rami sipped his coffee as Iraelian soldiers in their olive green uniforms unloaded into the Esplandian port city of Eborum, watching the sight from the bridge of the carrier IIS Adaret. The green Iraelian Navy jack flapped in the wind against grey skies.
"Fitting" Rami remarked as various maps illuminated the panels around him.
"Nice of the weather to reflect the mood" he said aloud to the officers surrounding him.
"So can someone tell me what in Gehenna is going on? Did every overpayed Shaddai-damned desk jockey analyst over-estimate the capabilities of the Esplandians? What have we gotten ourselves into here?"

"The Alstengeorders and this Sigurt fellow have complicated the matter, Major General" Brigadier Shila Yannai replied, the appropriate areas on the map highlighted. Between pressure in the west and south? Esplandia's been knocked onto the back foot and is vulnerable on two fronts."

"Fucking dynastic politics, if this kid is who he says he is then someone should have done us all a favour and killed him years ago" Rami grumbled, his mind racing as he saw the fronts as they were now highlighted on the map. His mind worked in what seemed like a million different directions before he wrinkled his nose. The engagement in Astragon, dealing with the usurper Murza, had crossed his mind. Iraelian forces under his command had drive into southern Astragon, forcing Murza to defend his most vital ports and leaving his northern forces weakened as they faced the rightful Empress' armies. The same thing appeared to him here.The enemy was over-stretching themselves. Moving too fast against too big an opponent. These "Sovereigntists" as they were called needed to take this momentum while they had it. If Esplandia could regroup? They'd be in for a drawn out war they didn't have the resources to win, so they had to move swiftly. Yet that made tripping them up easier. Kaludgar wanted to play ball? He'd play ball. Naval landings on their peninsula would throw the frantically moving enemy off balance. Still...it didn't strike him as that easy. The Esplandian lines were in flux...and at a pace quicker than a naval landing of the necessary size could be organized.

"Get me Karthied on the line. Whoever's calling the shots. I don't care if it's Irwin or one of his generals. Let them know we need permission to move out of this port city towards the capital. There won't be an Esplandia to defend much longer unless these lines are stabilized, and I need to tell 'em that they're getting some reinforcements. Tell 'em Iraelia remembers their friends."

"Sir" Brigadier Yannai replied with a salute before relaying the order. Rami felt equally frustrated and alive. He was in his element, to be sure, and he was planning on seeing this through to the end. However that happened to come about. He looked up at one of the smaller monitors just then, and saw images of the young Sigurt.

"I'm personally gonna shot that bastard son of a bitch if I have to" Rami muttered.
 
How has this happened? That was all that Peter Ostraveg could think about as he was hurried out of the city. The Kaludgarians had broken the Esplandian line on the border and now were closing in on Amsfirth.

His own forces were trying to prepare for the cities defense, and what number of Esplandian troops that had already limped into the city were also preparing. But it looked grim. They weren’t prepared for a war. The Vestrugat had been at peace way too long.

“Will the Esplandian navy come to help?” he was asked. He didn’t know who asked, he was still in shock about having to order the evacuation of the city. He was responsible for the Dalkaegns as their Prime Minister, but he had no idea what to do.

“We don’t know,” he heard his military adviser answer. “There’s a Kaludgar battle fleet somewhere in the channel and they’re being cautious about engaging.”

People rushed by as they gathered anything important. The entire government was being evacuated to Askardeg. Peter was just watching this all in a daze. He didn’t even notice when he was told that his helicopter had arrived, or when he was led to the field and boarded. It wasn’t until he was already in the air that he snapped out of it and panic kicked in.
 
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Further War Declarations as Vestrugat Descends Into Civil War

The conflict in the Vestrugat continues to heats up. The forces of Kaludgar have broken the Federation’s lines in the Dalkaegns and even now there is fighting in Amsfirth. On the other front of the war, Alstengeord has backed the claims of the bastard prince, Sigurt. Joining forces with the Prince of Saegsen they’ve managed to beat back the Esplandian Huskavrals to the Saldjegvatter River.

Esplandian forces continue to gather at Kunnafen in preparation for an assault, while Iraelian forces arrive in Elgennaum. It is unclear at this point what Imperial strategy will be to hold back Winegar’s forces in the Dalkaegns.

Expecting the Emperor to address the Witangamot today, Irwin instead has called an emergency meeting of all heads of state in the Federation.

Austalgotha joined Hastenfrakta today, officially declaring a state of war with Saegsen and Kaludgar. Rathkenhaem even denounced Sigurt’s claim on Alatengeord and threatened war against the nobles who supports him. Could this mean Commonwealth, or even Syrixian intervention?

Hastenfrakta declared war, siding with Esplandia, just after the Kaludgar military broke through Esplandia’s lines. Hastenfraktan troops are already arriving in Askardeg, either to help hold the city or in preparation for a counter offensive should Amsfirth fall.
 
“Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!”
Around the halls the words echoed. People cheered. The lords of Alstengeord had chosen to pledge their support to the grandson of their last native king. They would not live under an Esplandian monarch.

The nobles who had chosen to return to their estates following the vote instead of recognizing the new king, their names would be remembered.
“We will never bow to a false Esplandian monarch,” Sigurt rallies the crowd. “We will take back what is ours. We will crush the Esplandians!” Cheers echoed from the rafters. “We will crush the Aernish!” The cheers we’re even louder. “And we will crush the Federation and have freedom for Alstengeord!”

This time the crowd chanted the name of their new king in response. ”All hail, Sigurt X!”
 
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The soldiers marched in their tightly knit formations as Haevor watched from the interior of his bakery in Amsfirth. In perfect unison they made their way down the brick road towards the city hall accompanied by faint gunshots and screams in the distance. Occasionally an explosion went off which would cause civilians on the sidewalks to scream in surprise. None of it fazed Haevor though. He had lived through the Aerinish Uprisings as a youth. This had no impact on him besides for the fact of how his bakery might do in an occupied city in war time.

The Kaludgarians in their taking of the city had avoided as much bloodshed as possible, which Haevor appreciated. No one had expected for them to cut through Esplandian lines as easily as they had. Like a hot knife slicing through a stick of butter the troops at the border were crushed and pushed back and now? Cities and towns were already being taken by those damned theocrats from the South.

Giant squares of men armed and in their uniforms continued. On the other side of the street something in particular had caught his gaze. Soldiers on the other side of the street parallel to Haevor’s baked goods carried ladders and a large Kaludgarian flag in their arms. They stopped their ladders in front of the store and climbed them. Soldiers on the ground hoisted the flag up to those on the ladders and they nailed it into the brick building. In a fit of rage the shop owner walked outside of his establishment and confronted the armed guards outside. He argued with them and in an attempt to show his defiance tried to pull the dragon banner from the walls. He was swiftly met with blow to the side of his head with the butt of one of the soldier’s rifles.

He stumbled and fell to the ground as his wife rushed out to help him. Blood gushing out of the side of his head, he cursed them before reentering. He could already tell that the same thing was going to happen to him. Before he even finished his thought, soldiers had already shown up in front of his store and nailed a flag. Haevor had no interest in fighting them. There was no point. He instead decided to walk outside and join the rest of the civilians of the city.

The sounds of boots clicking against the stone, thousands en mass and in lock-step with one another drowned out the sounds of the people around him. The fighter jets tore through the sky above. Was this going to be their new world?
 
“Amsfirth has fallen.” It was grim news. The Kaludgarian military had blitzed their forces and the Dalkaegns were burning. Irwin really needed a cigarette. Hell, he’d go for one of the special ones he had imported from Merillia right now.

“The Saegsen army is preparing to cross the Saldjegvatter as we speak,” Irwin said in frustration. “And our forces are rushing to defend Kunnafen. We don’t have the troops to move towards the south, unless we throw the Iraelians against Winegar.” He looked around the room, becoming irritated. Many of his advisers were missing today. “Has anyone seen the Warden General?”

People glanced around, a bit taken back that the Vestrugat’s senior military officer wasn’t here.

“He’s in Kunnafen,” Alwur said, his voice calm in comparison to the Emperor’s. “He’s personally preparing the city’s defense.”

Irwin felt calmer hearing that. “I pray he succeeds, but what of Amsfirth?”

Irwin wasn’t expecting an answer, but Alwur gave one nonetheless. “If Kunnafen falls, then the enemy will be in Esplandia and in position to reinforce the Kaludgarians. Right now, we must stop them from combining their forces.”


The cruiser RES Errantsberg pointed her bow south across the Bay of Dolphins. She was heading closer towards the Kalud Peninsula, hoping to catch sight of the enemy fleet.

The captain was nervous. Kaludgar had submarines, a good amount of them, and the waters could be filled with them right now. Most of Esplandia’s own fleet was scattered. The war had come so quick. The Katharin, the largest of their carriers, had been in the north, getting refitted at Cerdagne, and he had no clue how many of their own submarines were active.

Finally they caught a blob on their radar, a contact off their port bow, and the captain ordered them to intercept. It was a patrol boat, hugging the coast as it made its way towards Amsfirth. They identified it. Definitely from Kaludgar.

As they prepared to engage the dreaded words came out. “Torpedoes in the water!”

The Errantsberg’s alarm sounded, men rushed to stations. Two torpedoes, fired from a nearby submarine, crashed into the hull and the ship went up in an inferno. In less than twenty minutes the cruiser broke up and sank beneath the waves.
 
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Nathaniel d’Alayn checked his watch. He felt immensely impatient. A strike needed to come, should be coming any minute now, but so far Albrekt’s forces hadn’t made a move to cross the river.

He’d heard about the defeat at Amsfirth, that even now the Kaludgarians were pushing their advantage in the Dalkaegns.

He checked his watch again.

Someone coughed at the door to his office. He’d set up in the cities garrison building and the commanding officer had been nice enough to vacate his own.

“Enter,” he responded. The man who entered was the last person he’d expected to see. Raemond Drakosta gave him a salute, which Nathaniel returned and offered him a chair.

“I’m glad to see you still breathing,” he told the prince. “There’s been rumors you were killed. I didn’t believe them of course.”

The commander of the Huskavrals leaned back in his chair and Nathaniel noticed just how tired he looked. “I lost 600 boys,” he said. “I walked right into a bloodbath like an arrogant fuck.”

“How many were Huskavrals?”

“Most of them?”

Nathaniel stood up, and looked out the window seeing his men moving about the compound. “We’ve all been caught with our pants down,” he said. “Winegar has taken Amsfirth and most of our military is in shambles.”

“What are my orders, General?”

Nathaniel shook his head, turning back to face Raemond. “Get some rest. I’ll need what men you have. I intend to send them to meet up with the Iraelians and what’s left of our eastern forces. If Winegar takes Askardeg he can strike at Erasflud or even Lossrnaum.”

“You think he’s gonna go after the east, or join up with Albrekt and hit us here?”

“I don’t know. Winegar is a wily leader. Trying to predict his actions is...”

There was a loud knock at his door and a sergeant entered. “Warden General,” he said. “We received news of Saegsen movement.” Nathaniel smiled. It was about time. Where was Albrekt going to cross the river at?

“Report,” he told the sergeant.

“The Saegsen military has marched into Soltenfrith and captured the naval yards there including three cruisers and sixteen frigates. They were assisted by Alstengeorder forces.”

Nathaniel put both his hands on the desk, and hung his head. He should have seen that coming.

It was Raemond who expressed what he was thinking. “The bastard sent his army west while we were sitting here waiting for him.”
 
Baeleg found Abigael in her room, blankets and pillows throne on the floor. She’d torn books off shelves and even smashed a mirror. Now she was huddled underneath a blanket, her head resting in the walls.

Despite her closed eyes he knew she’d been crying from the red skin around her eyes. He nodded to the servants who were standing in the hallway, letting them know he’d take care of it. He gently closed the door behind him and stepped next to the wife of his late friend.

“Is there anything I can get you, Your Higness,” he asked, kneeling down in front of her.

Her eyes fluttered open, bloodshot from her tears. She looked around the room, taking in the destruction she’d caused. “I shouldn’t have done this,” she said. “Claire will be upset.”

“The Empress will understand,” he assured her. “We’ll get this cleaned up quickly. Now let’s get you up.”

He stood, lifting her with him, and helped her to a chair outside on the veranda. He called the servants in and they started cleaning the room. He brought Abigael a glass of cold milk and she drank it gratefully.

“Do you think Aela is punishing me?” she asked. “First Silvia, and now Sherwin. Who will he take from me next?”

Baeleg took a deep breath of Gojannesstad, trying to calm his own growing feelings of anger and remorse. “Aela does not punish us. The tenets say that the suffering we experience is caused by the greed and follies of man.”

He checked himself after saying that. There was no need to preach religion, it wouldn’t help with her grief. “I couldn’t imagine losing my Kali, or any of our children.”

She didn’t say anything. She just stared into the distance, and he saw tears welling in her eyes again. He just stood there, hoping his presence would at least give her some comfort.

When she spoke she asked about her son. “Is Edwin alright?”

“He’s with your sister and nieces.”

She took another drink of milk. “Have you heard anything from Amelia?”

“She was moved to a hospital in Halsen. She’s recovering and the doctors will be releasing her soon to come here.” He took a moment. He knew how distraught she was, but he needed to make her return to her duties. He coughed uncomfortably. “Elaena has been asking about you as well. She was afraid you might try to return to Karthied.”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I need to check in on my daughter-in-law, Baeleg?”

“You know I’m not subtle.”

She finished to milk and took another long look out towards the horizon. “What am I supposed to do now that he’s gone. You knew him better than anyone else. What do you think he’d have me do?”

Baeleg decided it was best to be honest. “He’d want you to get up and go see your son. To make sure his granddaughter was okay. He’d want you to be strong, as strong as they needed to be. And I know that’s what you can do, because he believed you could be strong.”

She wiped the last tears from her eyes and stood up. “Thank you, Baeleg,” she said. He took her hand and led her back into her room.

Ain't no Reason — Brett Dennen
 
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Akiva Rami puffed on his cigar, the smoke quickly rising against the overcast Icenian skies. Iceania had a sunny reputation- literally- but it seemed the weather had decided to mirror the current situation. So much so that his aviator sunglasses were hanging unused from the opening of his fatigues, just under his chin.

Askardeg...the defence of the city was necessary. Breglauden was the goal, but the Kaludgarians needed to be halted before they could be punched in the gut. The Iraelian Expeditionary Force had mostly arrived. He'd be able to give the enemy a drawn out fight, especially with the with the remnants of Raemond Drakosta's forces. And that was what the Imperial Federation forces needed. To drag the Kaludgarians and Sovereigntists into a drawn out affair. Their rapid advancement wasn't sustainable. He was counting on the enemy knowing that. And counting they'd feel a sense of dread upon realizing that there wasn't going to be an easy victory at Askardeg.

"Morale seems healthy among Drakosta's forces, relatively speaking" Shila Yanna remarked.

"Huskavrals" Rami replied, puffing on his cigar. He didn't say anything else. Huskavrals had a reputation. How much this war reflected that reputation, or tarnished it, was up for debate. Rami had always respected the Esplandian military tradition, but they'd been caught unprepared. It didn't matter though. There was time for every soldier to redeem themselves.




Gabriel Siman-Tov ducked, the sounds of Iraelian rockets thundering across the horizon.
"Enemy is engaged" Sgt. Ranel Sheleg yelled. Gabriel and the rest of the squad paid attention.

"We are here" the sergeant bellowed, "because our allies have been betrayed by murderers and thieves. We will fight, for our allies and friends, and push these thieves back! And when they keep coming? You get up and hit them again!" he yelled.
"NOW DUCK, UNLESS YOU POOR BASTARDS WANT TO GO DEAF!"

Everyone ducked as the Iraelian artillery launched once more...
 
Banscberg, Meregwuold

Alwur Skaeowaeng had never been to the capital of Meregwuold. Though he’d had many ‘dealings’ with Gaston, and his father before him, he’d never had the need to travel to the Mereg. There was a first time for everything.

The Whispering Sea was now quite a dangerous place to cross, ever since Albrekt had captured Soltenfrith and the fleet there. But Alwur knew a man who had a fast speed boat and they’d made it to Anfallith safely. From there it was a short drive to Banscberg.

“I’ve already received Albrekt’s... generous offer to support his cause,” Gaston told Alwur as they sat at the Grand Duke’s desk in the Rantskreg Palace. “Wealth and power. You know the rest.”

“He didn’t offer woman?”

“It’s like he doesn’t even know me,” Gaston laughed at Alwur’s wit.

“What did he offer you, though?”

Gaston rolled his eyes as he answered. “Soltenfrith, as if I didn’t know that was something he’d never actually give up. I countered with my own proposal. Recognize me as an independent sovereign prince with full prerogatives in equal standing to himself. He wasn’t amused.”

Alwur laughed, though he didn’t find any of this amusing. But Gaston was a man who liked people who laughed at his jokes, and he was also a man who thought everything was a joke.

“Still,” the Grand Duke continued, “I’d prefer not getting involved at all. Especially with Albrekt’s army right on my border. And with this Sigurt bastard claiming Alstengeord.”

Alwur nodded, understanding Gaston’s predicament. That was one thing he at least understood. “This war isn’t going well for us at the moment,” Alwur said. Truly an understatement. “We believe Winegar and Albrekt had been preparing for this conflict for some time and they’ve hit us while we weren’t prepared. But the Federation is giving us their support and soon we will turn the tide of this war. We have the numbers. And when this is all over, the ones who murdered our emperor aren’t going to keep their thrones, if you understand me.”

Gaston leaned forward, now fully intrigued. “Irwin intends to exercise his right to revoke titles? On sovereign leaders?”

Alwur shrugged. “It’s a possibility. Whatever happens, the ones on our side will come out with much more.”
 
-the phone is picked up-

Ir?

Hey, how are you?

I miss you.

I know.

I want to come see you.

I know you do but it’s too dangerous.

Sigurda rolled over for the first time.

Oh, I wish I’d seen that.

You should have.

You’re safer in Gojannestad. The war won’t last long.

I’ve seen the news Irwin. I know that Kaludgar is winning.

Only for now. We’ll beat them back. Until then I’m glad you’re safe.

Have you spoken to your mother?

... I haven’t.

You need to. I know it’s hard for you but she’s really hurting.

I ... I wouldn’t know what to say.

It doesn’t matter. Just call her.

Okay

Okay

I’m sorry about how things are right now.

I know you are. I know you’re doing your best.

I miss you

I miss you, too.

Kiss Sigurda for me.

I’ll tell her you love her.

....

Call your mother.

-he laughs- Okay, okay.

I love you, Irwin.

I love you more.

-she hangs up-
 
The earth shook and rumbled as dozens of armored vehicles tore and treaded over the cracked, mangled mess of a road; no doubt they could be heard and seen from miles away. Over head the sounds of bombers could be heard ripping through the sky after finishing their runs over the city of Askardeg. As soon as they were done a new squadron appeared to take their place. Military installations, armories, and any other sites that could be used against a future assault were the main targets of the campaigns but the occasional bomb was dropped on civilian areas to keep the appearance of a vanguard intact.

That was the whole point of this charade. To prepare the Esplandian Military of a false assault while their real prize would be fat and ripe for the taking. The actual goal was Kunnafen, taking it would allow the military into the heartland of the Vestrugat and to the heart of its power, Karthied. The taste of victory would almost be assured if Kunnafen fell.

Col. Aerik Berghaltsen was the main officer in charge of the armored feint. A young man, no older than twenty eight who got his command because his father was a member of the upper echelons of the Kaludgarian Church. This was his moment in the sun though; a chance to prove himself to his fellow comrades in arms that he wasn’t just a priss boy born from the landed gentry. What a coincidence though that his first major command was on a false assault, no doubt so that he would be safe if shit really did hit the fan.

The armored brigade continued down the road until it met the outskirts of the city. No doubt that inside the city itself was an ambush of hundreds of soldiers waiting for them. Waiting for them to just make their move and waltz inside so they could rain the fires of hell down upon them.

“I’m sure the hell they’d like to” he murmured to himself as the vehicle shook and the passengers inside bumped into each other. The radio boy sitting beside of him looked up at him, wondering what he was talking about when the air squads radioed back in. They had finished up the last of their rounds as soon as they had said the words the Col. gave the order to pull his troops back. He motioned up towards the driver, “Turn back around. We’re putting this bitch in reverse. Tell the other cars too.” And with that, the leading vehicle turned around and the rest followed.

—————————

Artillery shellings and gunshots echoed through the streets of Kunnafen. The fighting was the thickest in the downtown of the city where Geldrik was located at. He’d already killed five men; four of them by his assault rifle and the fifth with his combat knife before he bashed his head into the pavement with the butt of his rifle. Now, they prepared themselves to storm the city council building, the illustrious seat of the city government where complex zoning laws and street names were derived. His staff sergeant had given him some poor excuse about the symbolic meaning of taking the building but anyone with a brain knew that there was no symbolic meaning in taking a building where occupational licensing reform got vetoed but orders were orders.

The City Council Building was large and white; embellished by lush rose bushes, golden trim, marble pillars supporting the front and side porticoes, and beautiful blue glass stained windows depicting famous Hastfradic military and religious scenes. Geldrik wanted to wreck all of it. But the prize was a large ebon colored granite statue of Edwin the Black placed directly in front of the building with colonnades surrounding it and the courtyard it was located in.

Everyone in the military knew what a crazy bastard Geldrik was. His parents were Astragonese immigrants that worked for the Department of Public Enlightenment or the Department of Energy for some. He had set the record for the highest amount of pull-ups in the country even after the skin on his hands had ripped open and the meat beneath became exposed. After he woke up at 4:30 AM in the morning his daily workout regimen mainly included 750-1,000 push-ups, 2,000 sit-ups, 1,500 pull-ups, 1,000 tricep dips, a couple hundred weighted squats, and wrestling, boxing, and other forms of martial arts and tactical training. When he was stationed in Breglauden during the winter he was notorious for breaking the ice in the river and taking ice cold baths. He was in the business of taking souls. Taking souls was his middle name.

The breaching and clearing squads took their positions across the street in a structurally safe building with fires and explosions booming around them in the distance. With a fairly educated assumption, they estimated that resistance in the City Council Building would be very fierce. Storming the building from the main doors would be too too dangerous and result in too many casualties so they settled for the second best option.

One of the men loaded his rocket launcher and took aim at the side of the building. He fired and the rocket took off, blowing a gargantuan hole into the side of the building, destroying several pillars and glass stained windows in the process. After letting the dust and debris settle the clearing squads gathered around it on both sides. A flash bang was tossed in and the moment it went off they charged. The moment they stepped into the building they were met with a flurry of bullets.

The man in front of Geldrik was shot in his chest close to three times but Geldrik pushed forward, he ducked and took cover behind a thick metal bench. A soldier took up right behind him and they both returned fire when they could. Soldiers on both sides were dropping like flies all around them and their position that they were maintaining was too exposed.

Geldrik grabbed the man by his collar and pointed, “You see those marble pillars over there by the stairs?” The man nodded. “That’s where we sho-“ and before he could say anything else a bullet had went straight through the bench and lodged into the head, causing a massive hole where his eye his used to be.

Now covered in the brains and blood of his fallen comrade he sprinted to the marble pillars and took cover behind them. He took a quick glance around the side of the large marble structure and as soon as he did he took fire from a man across the hall. “I’m not dying here today” he thought to himself while taking another glance and returning fire once more.

He started playing games with the soldier across the hall. Exposing a limb out of cover and quickly bringing it back before it could get a hole blown into it. Geldrik was laughing loudly for every man fighting in the vicinity to hear. Doing little dances between pillars and running back to them when he started shooting, making a mockery of the other man.

“Come on motherfucker is this the best you got? My 93 year old whore of a grandmother has better aim than you and she’s had 3 strokes.”

“I’m sitting here motherfucker, waiting for you to blow my brains out but I guess I’m gonna be waiting here all day.”

He continued to parade until the fire stopped and he could hear it. The soldier across the room’s gun had jammed. “Oh shit, this is perfect” he said to himself laughing and with a huge grin across his face.

He sprinted from behind the pillars with his bayonet on his rifle ready and charged towards the soldier.

“Oh God, oh fuck” the soldier said trying to fix his rifle but it was too late. “No, no, no, no, no” he kept saying. “OH YES MOTHERFUCKER” Geldrik screamed as he bayoneted him in the neck.

Geldrik killed 3 other men with bayonet in the fighting in the building but after the fighting had died down there was one last thing to do. They took the flag down from its post hanging off of the City Building and replaced it with the Kaludgarian flag. Geldrik stood on top of it with the city in flames smoking a cigar. An explosion rumbling beneath him as the statute of Edwin the Black came down.

“God, it really is symbolic” he whispered with a tear rolling down his face.
 
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Kunnafen, May 11th, 2020
The Warden General had been right, Kunnafen was the real prize to take for the Sovereigntists to join up. He’d been wrong though about who would strike first. Albrekt had marched west and taken Soltenfrith, and he felt the city was safe enough for the time being, so twenty thousand troops had been redeployed eastwards toward Askardeg where the Kaludgarian hammer was most likely to fall.

Except it didn’t. Instead Wineagr had sent his forces due north, crossing the Dalkaegns and hitting the city, it’s defensive forces reduced by half, from the south. Their first warning had been as Erasflud fell, but there was no time to properly prepare before the Kaludgarian blitz crashed into their defenses.

The Esplandian navy had been lured out into the Whispering Sea by Saegsen’s newly acquired fleet, the one they’d captured at Soltenfrith, and so there was no naval support, even as the shelling on the city began.

And it was in this initial chaos that the command center of the Kunnafen defense was struck, with most of the senior staff, being killed in the action. Including the Warden General, Nathaniel d’Alayn. Without orders coming down the line the men on the front weren’t able to coordinate effectively, thus they were quickly overrun and lost ground.

The fighting continued for hours, but the Kaludgarians had no interest in letting up. Soon they were in the city center, capturing the government buildings, the courthouse, and even the old Royal Palace. As the afternoon wore away it became clear that the city was lost. Finally an order came from whatever senior officer remained: retreat north and move to defend Lebernaum.

As the lines of retreating soldiers marched away from the burning city, the first snow of winter began to fall.
 
Shahari Nava's heart beat slowly as he tangled with Kaludgarian fighters above Askardeg. He felt the turns of his jet fill the space between beats, as if the plane and his body were acting as one. It was an edge he was living on, one that required balance to avoid falling off of. Shahari had a good sense of that, thankfully. Everything was a quiet hum as he and his squad mates did what they could to punch holes in the Kaludarian fleet. He wasn't sure what they expected, but Iraelian jets certainly couldn't have been on their minds when this war started. That was fine by him. It wasn't his job to care about enemy expectations. Merely to end them.




Akiva Rami tossed a pen across the room, hitting a poor NCO in the head. He took one look at the enraged general and made the smart decision to just stand there wide eyed.

"Pull north" he barked into his radio, "north, all the way to fucking Karthied. We're out of Shaddai-damned position. Get the jets back up north too. We need to totally regroup" he bellowed.
"They're not coming for Askardeg, never were!"

He marched out of his temporary command HQ angry as the light snow began to fall.

"Sir" Brigadier Shila Yannai asked as she followed.
"Kathied?"

"Yes" Rami replied sharply.
"The whole excursion's got us tripping over our own two feet. Not just us but the Vestrugat too. We've been chasing ghosts" he said as he hopped into an army jeep ready to take him north. Shila followed him in, not intimidated by his anger. Akiva Rami could be an imposing man. The former rugby player at the Iraelian Military Academy still had the broad frame from those days, even if he'd lost some of the strength of youth. That, combined with his fiery temper, made him a man to be feared. Even among his command staff. Shila, however, knew how to read him like most didn't. There were two types of angry Aikiva Ramis. The first was when he WANTED to intimidate you. The second was when he was furious. Often the latter was treated as the former, but there was a distinction. If it was the former there was no talking him out of whatever his mind was set on. The latter just meant he angry at the world, and could be spoken to. This was one of the latter instances, and she intended to cut through to him even as Iraelian soldiers and equipment were hastily preparing for a retreat.

"Sir, I need to ask. Why all the way to Karthied?"

"I said the whole fucking excursion is doomed, and I meant it. We've been played. Everyone's been played. Here...get me a tablet!" he barked to the solider sitting opposite the driver.

"Yes Sir" he replied as he handed the Alef tablet to Aikiva.

"Here" he pulled up a map of the IVF and Kaludgar.
"What do you notice, Brigadier?"

Shila wasn't sure what to make of what she was looking at. The Sovereignist forces were advancing, but she'd seen similar maps since she got here. So she said the only thing she could think to say.
"We're losing."

"You're damned right we're losing. And we shouldn't be" he replied as the jeep pulled out.

"I don't follow Sir."

"This isn't a matter of pride, Brigadier. We shouldn't be losing because objective fact of the matter is that we're fighting with the superior force. The IVF forces are enough to win a drawn out fight with the Sovereignists. The Kaludgarians perhaps tip the scales, but our military is bigger. Our military is better equipped. Even our expedition force, when combined with the IVF's loyalist forces, should be enough to defeat the Sovereignists and Kaludgarians. It's not a matter of jingoism, it's a matter of the material realities. We. Shouldn't. Be. Losing."

"So why..."

"Idiocy " Aikiva replied bluntly.
"We've all been saying that the enemy's only chance is a quick strike to knock the IVF power structure down before the IVF's forces could be properly leveraged into a counter-attack" he said, his words dripping with energy. It's the only way Shila could describe it. He was speaking calmly, sure, but his pace was quick and it seemed like he was ready to launch into a tirade at any moment. Shila knew, however, that this was where he thrived. The Major General was a sight to behold when he had a chance to start talking about the realities of warfare.

"So what do we do, Brigadier?" he continued.
"We plan for a dug in campaign. Give them a wall to throw their forces at, watch them wither away in time. And when they do we use our superior numbers to break them. It's a good plan. It should work. Only the fucking idiots in Karthied have us building walls in the wrong spots. We're letting ourselves tripped up when we should be standing still to gather our strength. That's why we're going to Karthied. In part to regroup. We're taking every Shaddai-damned Iraelian north to reorganize and replan. We need to get ourselves focused, and to stop letting the enemy dance around us. We need to re-assess so we can come out swinging, unswayed by the enemy's smoke and mirrors."

"Are you sure the IVF military brass will let you do that?"

"I don't give a damn" Aikiva retorted.
"This isn't our country. We're here to aid an ally, but I'm not going to toss my soldiers and vehicles away on feints. Warden General d’Alayn's dead. So whatever bone-brained idiot is left calling the shots in Karthied can listen to me, or they can lose this war without us."

"You're really going to withdraw?"

"I'm going to make it clear that my soldiers aren't expendable pawns for them to gamble with. We're here to die for them if they need us to, but if I or any Iraelian here is leaving this world over this then Shaddai-damnit, we're doing it for a good reason."




Gabriel Siman-Tov looked up. Snow was rare in Iraelia, outside of the Mishkanulsas. The grey skies and light snowfall was novel in that way. He clutched his seat as the truck rocked as it made its way over muddy roads. North. They were going north. Through the mountains.

"Jacob went on his way and the angels of Shaddai met him, and when Jacob saw them he said, 'This is Shaddai’s camp!' So he called that place Mahanaim" Sgt. Ranel Sheleg said, observing the young soldier.

"Sir?" Gabriel asked.

"We're going to Karthied, to re-assemble our forces. We're soldiers of Shaddai, Private. And that makes Karthied Mahanaim."
 
Word reached Emperor Irwin less than an hour later. He had been sitting up late, dreading returning to an empty apartment, wishing that Laena hadn’t gone to Goyannes. Alwur Skeowaeng, as well as two members of the Ministry of Defense arrived and were rushed in. They informed him of the news, Kunnafen had fallen and the Warden General was dead.

Irwin nodded numbly and then he turned in his chair at his father’s desk, and put his head in his hands. “What of Askardeg?” he asked, dreading to hear more news that they’d also lost that city.

“The march on the city was a ruse,” spoke the Underminister, retired General Raum Heornsen. “They’re was an aerial dogfight and some shelling, but the bulk of Winegar’s forces hit Kunnafen.

But the bad news would continue. Irwin asked Alwur Skeowaeng as they travelled from the royal palace to the Witangamot, Edwin Sigurdsen, Grand Duke of Lothel-Dutia officially declared war on Esplandia, throwing his support behind the bastard prince, Sigurt.

“Can things get worse,” Irwin mused in the car, staring out at the city slowly being covered in snow. Karthied usually didn’t get snow this early, enjoying warm winter weather until July, but even the land was mourning the bloodshed. The Emperor was on his way to address the government about the developing crisis.

Alwur didn’t say anything. He knew damn well it could, and likely would. They needed to name a new Warden General and there weren’t many men with the experience and support necessary to fill that position.

“What’s the word on Meregwuold joining the fight?” Irwin asked, changing the subject, likely hoping for some good news.

“He was open to the idea when I left, but now that Kunnafen has been taken his position is precarious so he will probably sit the conflict out until he sees a winning side.”

Irwin sighed. “I like Gaston, but he needs to find a spine.”

Alwur smiled wryly. For a moment that sounded just like Sherwin. He hoped his son was up to the task of what was ahead. Because if the work that Sherwin had done to unify the Vestrugat was going to survive, they needed a leader who was strong enough to hold it together.


Gaston watched the snow falling out his own window, thinking his own grim thoughts. He had taken too long to decide upon an action. His father had always been a man who would wait and see, and Gaston wanted to follow his own path. But the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He wanted to support Irwin, to be seen as a loyalist, but his nature had overcome. And so he’d waited.

Kunnafen had fallen, and the Esplandians were on the run. This should have alleviated his conscience, he’d made the right decision to wait, but his heart told him otherwise. What could be worse than having a Saegsen-Kaludgar alliance ruling in the Vestrugat? Being a neutral coward who did nothing to stop it.

Prince Albrekt’s representative arrived, being shown directly to the Duke’s office. Gaston had been expecting them, but thought that Albrekt would wait a day at least.

“It’s kind of late for you, isn’t it, Staeg?” Gaston asked, faking cordility.

Staeg Kurwinsen was a thoroughly unpleasant man. He had a permanent scowl, a permanent bad attitude, and his skin was covered in splotchy patches. “Albrekt’s army sits waiting to head east and link up with Winegar’s forces. All he needs is your support, or your promise of neutrality.”

Gaston kept his jovial smile but inside he was fuming. He knew the threat beneath those words: if you support Irwin, we will invade. “Did you know that the Emperor was offering to raise me to a Prince of the Imperial Vestrugat, if I supported him.” He kept the smile but added a hint of scorn to his tone.

Staeg’s demeanor completely changed. Instead of his normal unpleasant expression, his lips curled into a grotesque mask of contempt. “King Irwin is losing. So it’s time to stop being a spineless wimp, and pick the winning side.”

Gaston dropped the smile. He would not be threatened in his own land. Whatever the consequences, he was going to follow his conviction. “Another word from you and I’ll have you locked up for threatening a sovereign ruler,” he said, his voice icy and calm. “Return to your Prince and tell him Meregwuold will never bow to a forked-tongue lizard such as him. Meregwuold stands with their emperor, and I dare him to set one foot across our border. The Mereg people will never bow to thugs and cowards who murder a man at a peaceful meeting. Now get out!”

Staeg bowed, a vicious grin on his face, and then he turned and left. Gaston didn’t doubt for a second that Albrekt intended to invade. He immediately called his Minister of War. “Mobilize our forces,” he commanded.


Raemond Drakosta looked tired and worn out as he walked down the hall. Instead of the polished white uniform he would wear whenever he had to make an appearance in Karthied, he was instead still wearing the Gray fatigues of the Huskavrals, still crumbled and dingy from wearing them in the field.

Raum Kolta met him outside the doors to the Defense Ministry council chamber. “I’m sorry to bother you, your highness,” Raum said, giving the perfunctory bow expected for the nobility.

“High Chancellor,” Raemond addressed him, obviously startled about him being there.

“Can we have a word in private?” Raum asked, gesturing down a side corridor.

“I’ve been ordered to address the Underminister,” he protested.

“I know. But Heornsen can wait. He’s currently, uh...debriefing the Iraelian general.”

Raemond took the hint, and did as the High Chancellor bid. They went to a small conference room. Kolta gave him a drink of whiskey and then sat him down.

“NAthaniel d’Alayn is dead,” Kolta said. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now. Which leaves me with the unpleasant job of picking his replacement. The emperor has agreed to back my pick. I need someone with experience, someone who has the support of our armed forces. All our armed forces. Austalgothan, Hastenfraktan, Aernish. Someone who’s appointment will not be fought by the Landesgrad.”

“And you’re asking my opinion?”

Raum shook his head. “You’re my candidate. Noone else fits the bill. A distinguished veteran, commander of the Huskavrals for over a decade, and brother to our late emperor. It would be political suicide for anyone to fight your appointment.”

Raemond seemed shook. And obviously uncomfortable at being chosen. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then tell me, how would you change around this clusterfuck we’ve found ourselves in.”

The Prince didn’t even hesitate with his answer. “We’re about to get hit in the face, and there’s not a damn thing to do to stop it. We have to plan what to do after. We have too many fronts right now. Hastenfrakta and Aerndreffed are where we need to worry about right now. Edwin and Sigurt have grudges to settle there, so that’s where they’ll send the bulk of their forces. And if they fall, and we lose the north, than we lose. Period. So we fall back, let Winegar and Albrekt drive hard against us, push as far as they can, while we drive back Sigurt and Edwin. Because the best way to stop a blitz when you’re not prepared, is to let them run out of steam. Bleed them every step of the way, but let them overextend themselves.”

Raum nodded. He didn’t know if what Raemond said was true, but Raum had already made his choice to appoint him, and he would need to trust the man he chose. He stood up, and led Raemond to meet with the Underminister, hoping he’d finished with the Iraelian.
 
"I will be the first to admit" Major General Akiva Rami said to Imperial Underminister of Defense Raum Heornsen with with barely constrained anger, "that the dynastic politics of the IVF are somewhat lost on me. I do know one thing very well though" he added as he leaned forward on Heornsen's desk with both hands.

"War. And that's good for you, Underminister, because I was sent here to help you win this war."
He stood up straight and began pacing. His green fatigues felt like they were sticking to him. The cool weather didn't alleviate that as much as he thought it would have.

"I can't fucking do that..." he began, "if my men and equipment are wasted on feints! I didn't come here to be toyed with by incompetents who seem desperate to lose a war they should be winning! So I will make this very clear. My troops have been pulled back here, for now. We are going to re-asses the situation as it exists, and we are at your disposal but..." Rami's voice lowered to a growl.
"If my soldiers are wasted and tossed aside on pointless excursions then we will take our leave. A good solider is ready to die for a cause they believe in, and believe me Underminister. The defence of our ally is a worthy cause. It's my job to make sure their time- or lives- isn't wasted. So...don't. And let me do what I have to do to help you win this clusterfuck."
 
October 12, 2020
Six Months Have Passed…

Edwin watched the form of his sleeping wife as he rubbed her hip softly, not wanting to wake her but wanting to be close. He had wanted her to stay in Goyannes, but it was nice to have her back. The stress of the last few months had worn on him. The feel of her, the smell of her, it was enough to make him forget the war. He also knew it wouldn’t be long before the demands of his office would call him away from her again.

She stirred and rolled back, her eyes still sleep filled. “What’s wrong?” Elaena asked.

“Nothing,” he said with a reassuring smile. And at the moment nothing was wrong.

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“I should check on Sigurda.” She moved to sit up but he placed his hand on her abdomen.

“I checked on her a little bit ago,” he reassured his wife. “The nurse had fed her and she fell asleep again.

Elaena laid back down, closing her eyes again. “My mother thinks I’m lazy for having a nurse to help take care of our little girl.”

Edwin laughed. “That little girl is the future Empress of the Vestrugat.”

Elaena shook her head. “I was going to be an architect,” she said in awe. “My father was a shipbuilder, my mother a housewife. How did this happen?”

“You met a handsome prince.” He kissed her passionately, and she responded, kissing him back. He finished, staring deeply into her eyes.

“Do you have to go today?” she asked.

“Unfortunately.” He kissed her forehead. “I have to meet the Queen of Hastenfrakta today. Edwin Sigurdsen’s troops captured Halsen and she wants more troops I can’t spare.”

She put a finger over his lips. “Don’t talk about the war,” she said.

He responded by kissing her again.

Pogwe, Aerndreffed

Haemisc Gwenyed peaked out of the ruined doorway. He pulled his cap low to protect his eyes from the drizzle of rain. He couldn’t see anything moving. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the revving of an engine and crunch of stone as a tank rattled through the bombed out streets, but the poor weather made it hard for him to pinpoint which direction it was coming from. The north, for sure, so he decided to move south.

He motioned and Kaentha came out of the ruins behind him. She carried her rifle casually in her arms. She swept her eyes across the street and into the burnt out remains of the upper floor directly across from them.

Shouldering his own rifle they dashed across the ruined streets, moving into the buildings on the far side. They worked their way through the broken buildings of the city. From time to time they’d pass a body, but Haemisc kept moving. There were too many dead to give proper burial and the Alstengeorders had sent snipers closer to the Federation lines.

He dived for cover behind a stone fireplace as the sound of a rocket roared overhead, Kaentha dropping down next to him. Off to his left in the distance something went up in an explosion, the echoes of the explosive boom passing by. They waited a few moments and then carefully came up to a crouch. He checked ahead, waiting to see if anything else moved.

He readied to make a dash to the next building when Kaentha grabbed his shoulder pulling him back. She pointed down the street to a five story office building, now a blasted out frame of metal and concrete. He looked, trying to spot what she was pointing at, but he saw nothing.

“Fourth floor,” she whispered. “Next to the desk on its side.”

At first he didn’t see anything in the gloom of the weather and the building interior, but then something moved and he made out the unmistakable figure of a man in combat gear. And then as his eyes adjusted he saw a few more people, crouched low in the rubble. THe uniforms were unmistakable Alstengeorders.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, sitting back against the stones of the old fireplace. “How’d you see them?”

She lifted her rifle, pointing it towards where the sniper was perched. “He must have been rattled by that rocket. I saw him moving positions..”

“That ain't no patrol,” he said, gazing through his binoculars and seeing their heavy weaponry. “Infiltrators or something?”

“You think they’re an advanced assault? Getting ready for a push?”

It didn’t really matter. He needed to radio it in.

Lossernaum, Esplandia

Raemond Drakosta looked over another report which had just been brought to him. He prepared to read yet another bit of bad news, but was pleasantly surprised.
Iraelian Forces have halted Saegsen-Kaludgar advance against Gothelif.
The last few months had proved the Iraelians an effective asset, though he was glad that the Halkonkregs were between him and Major General Rami. He’d already witnessed the man’s temper first hand.

Still it wasn’t the report he was waiting on, so he made a handful of calls to different commanders. Eventually he had what he needed and he called a meeting of his staff.

“As I suspected, the attack here was another feint. Winegar doesn’t want to waste his troops in a direct assault. His forces have swung north and are as we speak marching towards Eorvik. He intends to cross the mountains there and strike directly at Karthied. We know his plan, so it is our job to stop him.”

Banscberg, Meregwuold

Albrekt walked gleefully through the mostly empty halls of the Palace of Volget. He barely leaned on his cane, the sheer joy of being here, as a conqueror, numbed the aches of age. He felt like a much younger man.

Meregwuold had surrendered after one major battle. Their army was broken and in disarray, if not having outright surrendered. It was poetic justice. Gaston had talked big about standing up to Albrekt, but one battle had sent him running.

The Prince just wished they’d have captured the smarmy jackass. Instead he was probably still running, and likely wouldn’t stop until he was in Ulstome. Instead, the Grand Duchy’s ministers had formerly offered the surrender.

Albrekt carefully leaned over, picking up a painting that had fallen off the wall. It was a well done portrait of Gaston’s father, the former Duke Adelbrekt. The old prince leaned it up against the wall and then repeatedly drove the end of his cane through the painting, tearing and shredding it. Perhaps he would find a portrait of Gaston as well.

He was interrupted by his chamberlain. “Sir, perhaps you’ll be pleased to hear that Meregwuold’s Minister of Defence, General Grinwuold, has surrendered.”

Prince Albrekt allowed himself to gleefully laugh out loud. “That puts an end to any chance of resistance. They didn’t catch Gaston yet, did they, Danig?”

“Unfortunately not,” Danig Vartolt replied. He took a glance at the ruined painting at the Prince’s feet. “If you’d like,” he said, “There are additional portraits hanging in the second floor parlor.”
 
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