The Vaasan War

12 July 2019
Around 5 PM
Near Rudolfhafen, Vaasa

Three men walked down the corridor. They wore ordinary clothing -- jeans, sweatshirts, tennis shoes and the like. Nothing to immediately identify them as anything threatening. The other men and women in the bunker… they had different fashion choices. Olive brown BDUs, military vests, helmets, boots, black gloves, masks… the three men stood out like a sore thumb among these militants. They didn’t care, however. They had all sworn allegiance to the same goal, the same flag, the same idea -- and they had every intention of giving their lives in the name of its achievement.

The three men were Vaasans through and through, but they were handpicked for this assignment because they could speak fluent Arcanstotskan. They didn’t know the details of their assignment, only that it was vital for the war that was soon to come.

The men marched their way up to a door at the end of the corridor guarded by a Free State fighter with an automatic rifle in his hands, aviators over his eyes, and a cigarette between his lips. The fighter -- some sergeant or another perhaps -- opened the door for them and let them in.

The room itself was nice and decorated, with a cozy little fireplace and a man sitting in a recliner. But when the three entered, the man in the recliner rose from his recliner and turned to face them. His face was darkened, a shadow figure contrasting the bright flames behind. The three men stood at attention and saluted their leader.

“Chancellor Lehning,” the middle man spoke up. “You sent for us, sir?”

Kuno Lehning took two steps forward, inspecting the trio of young men before him. He smirked at the thought of these brave souls giving their lives for freedom.

“Yes,” Kuno spoke in a voice aged by time. “For you three I’ve a special mission.”

“This is critical. The Arcanstotskans must know that they cannot escape our fury. Ramelensk, Kariyevgrad, Siloyev will all know of the pain wrought upon our lands and people by their government. We have cells in all three cities -- the largest in Arcanstotska. They have the means to execute the attacks I am planning. Each of you will go to one of these cities and help in coordinating the attacks. You will be debriefed on such plans when you arrive at your destinations. Prepare, my sons, for war. Prepare to give your lives for a free and independent Vaasan State.”

The trio saluted in unison. “Yes, Chancellor!” They barked. Kuno smiled and sat back down in his recliner as the three men left for the cities of the enemy.

Kuno stroked his beard, lost in thought. He pulled out a small photograph from his jacket pocket and gazed upon it. A series of faces filled the scene. One of them his own. The rest of them lost. It took him back...

---

14 June 1972
Around 10 PM
Ebner, Vaasa

“Children! Dinner time!” A woman’s voiced called out.

“Comming mama!” Kuno dashed down the stairs, followed by his little sister Sophia. The pair rushed to assume their places at the table of inviting scents and sights of food. Their mother swung around and came to place the last of the food on the table just as their father -- Heinrich -- walked in through the door.

“Hello dear,” she looked up with a smile. “How was work today?”

“Long and tiring,” he sighed, resting his hat and coat on the rack. “Thank you for fixing up dinner, honey.”

“Mhm.”

Kuno’s parents assumed their seats as well. The family was about to say thanks to the Lord for their good dinner when a knock came at the door. Kuno’s father glanced over to the door to see who it was.

Soldiers. Three of them.

Kuno’s father rose from his seat to get the door, only to be rudely brushed aside by the armed men in uniforms. They were Arcanstotskans -- the occupiers.

“What the hell!” A soldier raised the barrel of his rifle up to Heinrich’s face.

The leading soldier, a man in a red beret, took in his surroundings before he turned to Heinrich and produced a picture.

“Is this you?” The officer asked in an accented Aleman. Heinrich said nothing. Kuno and his sister had backed away from the table in shock and terror, huddled together behind their mother.

“IS THIS YOU?!” The officer screamed, grabbing Heinrich by his throat and shoving the photograph in his face. “ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION YOU VAASAN SVIN’YA*!” Heinrich choked and gasped before the officer let go of his throat, the picture still shoved up in his eyes.

Heinrich glanced over to his family before turning back to the soldier. The officer’s eyes, too, looked to the rest of the family. He motioned for one of his soldiers to fire a round near the mother’s foot. Kuno and Sophia screamed and cried in terror and fear. The mother turned and hugged her children closely.

“Answer the question or I’ll fucking kill them.”

Heinrich tried to wrestle himself free.

“YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS!”

He kicked, he pulled, he shoved.

“FIVE!”

“Please! Please don’t hurt my-”

“FOUR!”

“Please, I beg of-”

“THREE!”

“Nein!”

“TWO!”

“ALRIGHT! IT’S ME! THAT’S ME IN THE PHOTOGRAPH!”

“Honey, what’s he talking about? What photograph?”

The officer turned to look Kuno’s mother in the eyes. There was nothing but burning rage in his eyes. Nothing but hate. His molten gaze sent a shiver up Kuno’s spine.

“Three days ago, five of my soldiers were killed by insurgents,” he explained, somehow calmly. “Those insurgents’ faces are in this photograph. Your husband is one of them.”

“What? My husband is no terrorist! Let him go!”

The officer stormed over, boots pounding against the wood-tile floor. He shoved the photograph in her face as well.

“You’re lying… that’s not my husband… THAT’S NOT MY HEINRICH!”

The officer merely backhanded her, knocking her to the ground. “THEN YOU ARE COMPLICIT IN HIS CRIMES!” He looked back to the soldier holding Heinrich at gunpoint and nodded.

Two shots rang out. Blood splattered. Heinrich fell backward onto the stairs behind him. Screams erupted.

“Take this bitch back to base for questioning. Find out what she knows.”

“Sir,” one of the soldiers spoke up. “What about the kids?”

“They couldn’t have been involved. Leave them.”

As they dragged away the mother, Sophie and Kuno ran up to pull her back from the soldiers.

“Mama! MAMA!”

“Children! Go to Uncle Rudolf! He’ll take care of you both! I love both of you!”

“MAMA!!!”

---

The Present...

A single tear streamed down from Kuno's eye. He tucked the photograph back into his jacket and took a sip of his whiskey. Do not worry, father, he thought to himself. You will not go unavenged any longer.

23 July 2019
Around 11 AM
Siloyev, Arcanstotska

Triumphant. Proud. Patriotic. That’s how I would describe the atmosphere of the parade, this year just as any other year. Columns and columns of soldiers, tanks, and armored vehicles marched down Victory Square as patriotic music played and modern jet fighters pierced through the skies above, shrieking as they went. Behind the fighters were columns of colored smoke. White, red, and blue. I cheered and waved my little Arcanstotskan tricolor flag as the jets flew overhead. They were gone the moment they arrived, it seemed.

Republic Day. A national holiday to commemorate the founding of the Second Republic and the end of the Old Monarchy. The Flag March had already been performed; the flags of the Old Monarchy were burning away while the Second Republic’s colors still fluttered in the breeze. President Pevlovich had given his speech -- commemorating the valiant national heroes of the 1848 Revolution; Kholski, Fomenkov, Sevchenko, and of course, Kariyev himself. Now the parade proper was underway. In a way, the Flag March made me feel somewhat uncomfortable, what with my big sister being the Tsarina of Kozaria. It’s perfectly fine though, I thought to myself. The Flag March is about the Arcanstotskan monarchy, not the Kozarian one.

I felt my phone vibrate in my jean pocket, so I pulled it out. It was my sister. What a coincidence, I chuckled. I tapped the green “ANSWER” button and brought the device up to one ear while plugging the other.

“Well good morning, Your Highness,” I mocked her jokingly.

“Heh, hello to you too, Imran. How’s the parade in Siloyev?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” I replied. “Tanks, jets, soldiers, burning flags. All that stuff.”

“Well just keep an eye on Dad for me, will you? You know his hip hasn’t been doing too well lately.”

“I know sis,” I replied. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Say hi to His Majesty and the little tykes for me, alright?”

“Alright. Enjoy the parade, little brother.”

“Hey, who are you calling little? I’m like an inch taller than you.”

She giggled a bit on the other end of the line. “Shut up, you were born four years after me. Anyway, I have to go check up on Ivailo. Talk to you later.”

“Yup, later. Bye!” I hung up.

My father nudged my arm. “Was that Natalya?” He asked, looking up at me. I was well aware of his declining physical health -- that he had to walk about with a cane was reminder enough.

“Yep, that was our Tsarina. She wanted to check up, say hi, and ask me to keep an eye on you.”

“Pfeh,” my father grunted in dismissal. “I don’t need you to keep an eye on me. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself!” I could barely hear what he was saying over the thunderous cheers of the crowds surrounding us. Another group of jets screeched by overhead.

“How is she doing?” My father leaned over.

“She didn’t really say how she was doing,” I replied, still needing to raise my voice so I could be heard. “So I guess she’s doing alright.” I felt my phone vibrate again. She was probably calling back to tell me something she’d forgotten to tell me.

Yep. I was right; it was her. I tapped the green button again and raised it to my ear.

“Hello,” I plugged my other ear with my finger.

“Hi again little brother, Ivailo wants to talk to his uncle and grandpa. Ivailo! Come say hi to uncle Imran!” I heard her call to my nephew. She handed the phone over to him.

“Hi, uncle Imran!” Little Ivailo said into the phone.

“Hey, little buddy! How’s my nephew doing?”

“I’m doing okay, uncle. How are you?”

“I’m doing awesome, little man! I’m here at a parade with your grandpa! It’s really loud so I can’t hear you very well! I have to go now, little buddy; Uncle Imran’s gotta keep an eye on grandpa!” My father scoffed at the notion.

“Okay, uncle! Do you want me to give the phone back to momma?”

“Sure, little buddy!”

Ivailo passed the phone back to my sister. “Imran?”

“Alright sis, I’ll call you when dad and I get back from the parade, okay?”

“Okay, Imran. Take care!”

“Yep, bye!” I hung up and tucked my phone away in my pocket. Maybe now I could enjoy the parade, I thought.

It was then that I could see a man in a hoodie run out onto the pavement, headed for the column of soldiers. His hand was raised up to the sky, holding some kind of device. Once he drew near the mass of uniformed men, he erupted in a loud explosion, sending the soldiers flying in all directions. My first instinct was to push my father to the ground and cover him from any debris. All around me I could hear people screaming and struggling to get away from the square. The faint blaring of police and ambulance sirens was gradually drawing closer.

I looked up, my eyes darting all over the place. I pulled my father to his feet and hurried him out away from the plaza, looking for somewhere safe. My mind was still trying to wrap itself around whatever the hell just happened.

“Come on, dad. We need to get out of here!”

The rattling bangs of machine-gun bursts sliced through the crowd as they hurried out of the plaza in panic. The screaming intensified as people left and right were cut down by the blasts of bullets. The splattering blood, the sounds of bullets striking against human forms or the pavement or the walls of buildings; it was all too much too quickly. Once again, I pushed my father to the ground, falling with him. I couldn’t make out where exactly the gunfire was coming from. Somewhere behind me, it sounded like -- on the other side of the plaza.

The first responders finally arrived on the scene. The police pulled up not just in cruisers, but in armored trucks as well. I saw men in military gear jump out of the back of the trucks, only for a few to be cut down by the hidden gunmen. I couldn’t waste any more time in hiding, I needed to get myself and my father out of there. I picked him up again and rushed him away from the plaza. The sounds of gunfire only intensified as the police shot back.

I hurried my father over to my blue car and shoved him in the front passenger seat, while I took the wheel. I’m honestly surprised it wasn’t stolen. I pulled out the key, turned on the ignition, and sped out of there, back to dad’s house.

“What the fuck just happened?!” My father sounded a little frantic.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!” I, however, was a hair’s width away from having a heart attack. “Godsdamn, dad, I don’t know what the hell is happening! One minute it’s just a normal Republic Day parade and the next there’s bombs and gunshots and dead people and--”

“Calm the hell down, Imran!” My father slapped me over the cheek. Surprisingly I didn’t crash.

“Dad what the hell! I’m trying to drive here!” I had been raised all my life to never yell at my parents, but with the stress of the situation at hand, it just slipped.

“Well, how the hell are you going to drive if you’re about to die of a heart attack? Just focus on getting us home. Give me your phone, I’m going to leave Natalya a message.” I pilled my phone out and gave it to him, without taking my eyes off the road. He dialed up my sister and lifted the phone up to his left ear.

“Natalya, this is your father. We’re heading home now, there’s been some kind of attack at the parade. Someone blew a bomb and started shooting at the crowd with machine guns. Imran and I are okay and we’re driving back to my place now. We’ll call once we get there.” My father

I could hear explosions going off in other distant parts of the city. It felt like the whole world was coming apart around me.

We somehow managed to get back to my dad’s without incident, I don’t know how. My father gave me my phone back and looked me dead in the eyes. I was panicked, hyperventilating, scared shitless. I could tell he was terrified too, but he obviously had better control over it than I did.

“Imran, calm down. Breathe.” I did as he asked and somehow managed to calm down a little.

“What the hell has happened dad?”

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. Call your grandfather and let him know we’re okay, then call Natalya. I’ll go flip on the news channel and maybe then we can find out what’s going on and why.”

I nodded and went to take a seat at the dinner table while my father turned on the TV, flipping to his news channel of preference. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed up my grandfather.

“Hello, this is Mr. Reznikov. I’m not at the phone right now, so leave a message after the beep.”

“Hey grandpa, it’s Imran,” I tried to keep my voice from shaking too much. “There was a bombing and mass shooting at the Republic Day parade. Dad and I are okay. If you’re out right now, get home and stay safe. Please call back as soon as you hear this. Love you.”

I set my phone down and rose to my feet, walking into the living room to see my dad standing in front of the TV with a hand over his mouth and his eyes wide open.

“...we are receiving reports that both downtown Ramelensk and Kariyevgrad have been struck by similar attacks. The attackers’ identities, motives, objectives, and affiliations are, as of now, unknown. Law enforcement and military personnel are actively doing what they can to contain the violence and bring it to an end. We do not yet possess any estimates for dead or wounded…”

“By the Gods…” I mumbled. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing or seeing.

My phone vibrated on the dining room table and I rushed over to pick it up. It was Natalya. I pushed the answer button and lifted it up to my ear.

“Hello? Natalya?”

---

Later that evening...
The Hawk's Nest
Near Rudolfhafen, Vaasa

A pair of boots stamped down the corridor, making way towards the Chancellor's quarters. The young woman was dressed in old Ereionese military fatigues. Her blonde hair was tied behind her head in a bun to allow for her field cap to sit atop her head. As she came upon the door to the Chancellor's dwellings within the bunker complex, a single guard moved to let her through, opening the door for her. The woman stepped through to be greeted by a decorated, comfortable chamber. The walls were aligned with bookshelves filled with novels and pages. A crimson carpet blanketed the floor and on the opposite end of the room, there was a burning fireplace that radiated warmth throughout the chamber. She could see the dark figure of the Chancellor, relaxed in his recliner, a book in hand.

"Chancellor Lehning. The attacks have been carried out. Siloyev, Ramelensk, and Kariyevgrad burn."

The Chancellor smiled, though the woman could not see. The Chancellor rose to his feet and walked over to his follower, who stood at attention upon his approach. Now she could see his smile.

"Then we are ready."

---

Kuno Lehning sat in a chair centered within a darkened room, flanked by armed soldiers of the Free State. Their faces were blacked out by masks. His? Only aviators concealed him. The camera crew was finishing up their preparations.

A camera technician gave the signal. 3... 2... 1...

"On June 14th, 1972, in a little town called Ebner, a squad of Arcanstotskan soldiers stormed a family house, executed the father of the household in front of his family, and took his wife with them back to their post. There she was beaten, raped, and 'interrogated' for information she did not possess." Kuno's voice was solemn and pensive at first, low and calm in tone as if in mourning.

"On August 7th, 1962 -- ten years after Vaasa was seized by the Second Arcanstotskan Republic -- four Vaasan children were hung by Arcanstotskan Army soldiers for stealing bread. The children hadn't enough food at home and in their desperation for the basic right to be fed, they had no choice but to resort to thievery. Yet instead of throwing them in jail overnight, the Arcanstotskan occupying military administration sought to the children's deaths."

"On January 7th, 1965, a peaceful protest was organized to call out the Arcanstotskan government and military for their crimes, and demand justice. The Second Arcanstotskan Republic has long prided itself as a nation of law and order -- of just and free democracy where 'the Brotherly Peoples are the ultimate authority.' And how did Arcanstotska -- this nation of republican democracy and justice -- respond to these protestors, none of whom acted aggressively and none of whom were armed? Gunfire. They responded with gunfire. 180 people attended that protest. Seventeen never went home."

"These three stories are not the only ones to be told. I could go on and on for hours, but let's face it: if I did, we'd be here for hours and I don't mean to bore. I mean to make a point." Kuno's voice now became louder, more intense, rising in bombast.

"The military occupational administration is gone; has been since 1987, when Vaasa was incorporated as a full province of Arcanstotska. But that does not suddenly make the crimes of the past disappear. The Arcanstotskans may have poured money into Vaasa -- they may have built schools, they may have built roads. But is a captor masked in pleasantries not still a captor? I say yes. We say yes."

"The time has passed when we could bare to ignore the wrongs of the past. The time has come for war, for bloodshed, for independence! And that is why -- President Pevlovich -- your cities burn. Siloyev, Ramelensk, and Kariyevgrad. I did that. We did that. Your proud Republic Day has been watered with the blood of your citizens en masse. Our people were made to bleed, and now so too shall yours be as well."

"The Vaasan Free State isn't going anywhere. So, Mr. Pevlovich and Mr. Tsvetayev, what will it be? Will you show some penance for your nation's past crimes and let Vaasa go free? Or will you admit to your republic's hypocrisy -- throwing around self-determination and liberty for peoples, while only barely paying anything for the victims of your occupation? I promise you, Arcanstotska, that should you choose the latter, then the attacks of today will be far from the last..."

23 July 2019
11:03 am
On a Tuesday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

"It's bloody carnage," Magnus Brandt muttered as he watched the footage from the attacks in Arcanstotska.
"Does anyone know who was behind it?"

"ÖSU has some theories," Harald Dahl, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, remarked.
"Hvieti says he hears chatter in the Vaasan, Aydini, and Syrixian channels. But he told me, quote, 'I'll talk to Magnus when I'm good and ready.'"

"Always a charmer isn't he?" Magnus sighed.
"But I know him well enough. He doesn't know for certain yet."

"And of course it would be keen to avoid putting any speculation out there until we're sure. Or someone takes credit," Harald replied.

"Já," Magnus said as he looked over the assembled cabinet.

"Ingrid," he said, turning to the Press Minister Ingrid Isberg, "we need to address the press. Express support for Arcanstotska, let them know they have our support and sympathies."

"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister. I'll arrange something for late afternoon.That should give you time to brief the King."

Magnus nodded. He'd have to do that. Tell the King what he knew, let him know what the government response would be. And even talk about what Tobias should do. He knew him well enough to know he might try to say something.

He picked up a remote and minimized the footage of the attacks to bring up the secure line to Absalonhöll. He hit the dial button and after a quick animation of a ringing phone, an image from the desk of the King appeared... but it wasn't Tobias looking back at the camera.

"Elo?" Magnus asked, sounding confused as he addressed the Stewart of the Royal Household.

"Mr. Prime Minister," Elo Daugaard replied, stoically.

"Elo, I need to speak with His Majesty. It's imperative we arrange a meeting as soon as possible."

"His Majesty isn't here," Elo replied matter of factly.

"What?" Magnus asked shocked.
"Then where the bloody hell is he?"

---

23 July 2019
11:03 am
On a Tuesday
outside Mjölby, Prydania

Tobias grunted as he loaded another bag of manure onto the truck as Bjarkar Odegaard wiped his brow and tossed his friend a bottle of water.

"Danke," Tobias said as he gulped it down. He wasn't looking kingly at all. His dirty blond hair was disheveled, somewhat hidden by a camo-patterned Midland Motors cap, and he wore work gloves with a green t-shirt, blue jeans, and work boots. Bjarkar was dressed much the same way, in a blue shirt and no hat.

"You gettin' a good day's work in?" Bjarkar asked as he gulped down some water himself.

"Já," Tobias said with a nod and climbed into the passenger side seat of the truck. Thankfully he didn't have to wait long for Bjarkar to jump in the driver's seat and turn on the engines, letting the cool air from the AC wash over them.

Tobias took his hat off to run his hands through his hair, pulling his hair back as he relaxed.

"You don't have to do this you know," Bjarkar said as he started the truck down the road.
"I mean it when I say I'm not still mad."

"I know you're not," Tobias replied.
"If you were you'd make me walk," he added with a chuckle.

Bjarkar laughed and nodded.
"I guess I would..."

"But I'm visitin'," Tobias explained.
"I'm not gonna let you and your mamma and pabbi do all the hard work while I sit around. Least I can do is help out."

"Well I think you blew their minds in a good way," Bjarkar said. He meant it. He and his parents were among the first Syndicalist Agricultural Homestead inmates freed by the FRE. He'd met Tobias that day.

And now with farm production starting to rise the King of Prydania, their son's friend, the FRE's hero... was helping them with the farm.

Tobias, though, blushed. Though given his state it was hard to tell. He just waved off his friend's comment. Though he'd soon wish he'd let Bjarkar keep the topic focused on that. What came next was worse.

"So what's going on with you and Alycia?"

"Oh Godddd..." Tobias groaned.

"What?" Bjarkar asked with a smirk.
"Anything juicy?"

"I love her and we're gettin' on just fine," Tobias replied with a smile as he leaned back in his chair, putting his hat back on and pulling it down so it covered his face.

"That all?" Bjarkar asked with a cheeky smile.
"'Cause you two were at that Red Hearts Society thing in Lusvcova and..."

"Já we were," Tobias interjected with a chuckle.

Bjarkar smiled and was about to continue prodding his friend when, seemingly out of nowhere, black SUVs with the gold five-fold cross of the Knights of the Storm on the sides came up on him.

"Oh shit," Bjarkar muttered.
"I think your friends showed up."

"Huh?" Tobias replied, putting his hat on properly and looking out the window.
"You gotta stop the truck."

"Já já, sure thing."

Bjarkar brought the truck to a stop on the road between the farm and the main fields, as the two SUVs pulled out ahead and stopped themselves. Bjarkar and Tobias got out just as Knights of the Storm disembarked from their own vehicles.

"Your Majesty," one of the Knights clad in a royal blue uniform said as they approached the King and his friend.
"You need to come with us."

"What? What's wrong?" Tobias asked, looking over at Bjarkar worried.

"There's been an attack in Arcanstotska," the Knight officer replied.

"Arcanstotska?" Tobias asked.
"What's happened?"

"We need to get you back to Býkonsviði, Your Majesty. The specifics will be explained to you on the way."

"Um..." he turned to Bjarkar with a look that said "what can I do?"

It was a look Bjarkar understood though.
"I'll tell Mamma and Pabbi, go."

Tobias nodded, hugged his friend and got into the closest SUV. He had to admit. After working since the crack of dawn? The tinted windows and even more high powered AC felt good.

"This," the Knight officer who had collected him said as he sat next to him as the SUV
began to move again, "is footage of coordinated attacks at the Republic Day celebrations in Siloyev, Ramelensk, and Kariyevgrad."

"Jesús," Tobias muttered. He'd seen shit like this... during the Civil War. But Arcanstotska was at peace. Or at least he thought it was...
"Who? Who did this?" he asked, his voice betraying a sort of indignant anger. Arcanstotska had been there for the FRE during the Civil War. Now someone was attacking them. He felt a need to respond. To say something at the very least.

"I don't know Your Majesty. The Prime Minister will be able to brief you. Right now we need to get you to Haland, and onto a plane."

"A plane?" Tobias asked.

"Já Your Majesty. We need you in Býkonsviði as soon as possible."

---

23 July 2019
8:58 pm
On a Tuesday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

"Here's everything I have on Kuno Lehning," Max Hveiti said as everyone seemed to be in a controlled panic. He dropped a folder stuffed with papers onto a table.

"We'll brief everyone once the broadcast is over," Magnus said with a nod.

"The King's doing it huh?" Max asked.

"He insisted. Frankly, given what happened during the Civil War, I don't blame him."

"Just as long as he knows what to say," Max replied. He and Magnus stared across the King's office. Tobias was seated at his desk as RÚV people arranged the flags behind him just right. Dressed in a grey three piece suit. The stark contrast from the young man who'd come back having just worked on a farm.

"Well speaking of what has to be said..." Magnus brought up.
"What of the fallout? The King's about to tell the Vaasans Prydania stands with Arcanstotska. Will the ÖSU be able to keep what happened in Arcanstotska from happening here?"

Max said nothing for a moment. Magnus studied him. Was he at a loss for words? Was he thinking of what to say? Something else entirely? Magnus could never read the ÖSU Chief.

"Lehning played his trick," he finally replied.
"He can't play it again."

"Five, four, three..."

Tobias looked up. The RÚV broadcast was about to begin.

"...two, one..." he held up a hand sign. They were live.

Tobias stared into the cameras and took a deep breath.

He thought back to the Civil War. What Arcanstotskan support and aid had meant.

"Hello..." he said softly, before picking up the cadence of his voice.

"Earlier today as our friends in Arcanstotska were celebrating the anniversary of their Republic, tragedy struck."

The young King took a moment to pause and collect himself.

"Bombs and bullets, wielded by criminals, turned a day of celebration and national pride into a day of terror and horror. I cannot express the deep sorrow Prydanians feel for the bloodshed and carnage unleashed in Arcanstotska. We are peoples bound in common cause and ideals; those of good government, freedom, and liberal democracy. We have stood united in those causes before, and it has made us closer than ever. So to our friends in Arcanstotska, to those grieving loss... I am sorry. I am sorry for your pain, for your sorrow. No one should ever have to see what occurred today. My prayers are with everyone affected by today's attacks."

He paused again and took another deep breath.

"The attacks today were unforgivable and indefensible. The Prydanian people and government stand united with our brothers and sisters in Arcanstotska, against the terrorists who so willingly and flippantly chose violence. We offer the Arcanstotskan Republic not just our continued friendship, but any help we may reasonably give in aiding their recovery from this senseless attack and bringing those responsible to justice."

Tobias tapped his foot frantically. Silently.

"Our common cause in the name of freedom for the people of Craviter is stronger than any criminal attack. To President Sidorov and the people of Arcanstotska, we are with you."

23 July 2019 | 23 juillet 2019

The Kingdom of Saintonge extends its deepest condolences to the friends and families of victims of the recent terrorist attacks in Ramelensk, Kariyevgrad, and Siloyev, and wishes for the speedy recovery of those injured. Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Arcanstotska during this time of grief.

Bloodshed is never the answer to disputes and differences. Scores must not be settled through wanton attacks, terrorism, and reprisals, which all lead to the tragic loss of innocent lives. To this end, Saintonge is ready to extend its good offices for any need for mediation and negotiations.

The Kingdom of Saintonge sincerely hopes that peace and harmony will eventually prevail.

10:22pm
26 July 2019
Presidential Palace
Siloyev, Arcanstotska

It had been three days since the attacks and nothing had gotten better.

The terrorists, now linked to the WNVF, have forcibly seized control of Vaasa in a massive separatist revolt. Fort Pyotr had surrendered with some of the soldiers even joining with the separatists.
The initial shock of the attacks was wearing off, increasingly replaced with anger and mourning.

Sidorov was done waiting—done with going over emergency debriefs and meetings to coordinate an effective response. He needed to speak to the nation and to the world.

The camera crews counted down with hand signals. Sidorov took in a deep breath, stealing himself for this address.

Three… two… one…
Live.

“My friends, my compatriots, my fellow Arcanstotskans,” Sidorov spoke in a somber yet serious tone. “Yesterday our nation came under attack. Our annual celebrations of the birth of our democracy were met with a flurry of bullets and bombs. The citizens of our Republic; our people were fired upon and murdered. In Siloyev, Ramelensk, and Kariyevgrad, individuals with the utmost malicious intent used machine guns and explosives to commit these horrible acts of rabid, merciless violence. Our cities have been drenched in our blood.

“We have all lost someone to these senseless attacks. We are now forced to bury our parents, our siblings, cousins, lovers, friends, and children. Those behind these attacks were fully aware of what they were doing. The attackers who have surrendered to arrest have confessed that they were given specific orders by their leaders to kill without reservation; their targets were ordinary people with whom we have gone to work and school, gone drinking at the local bar, shared family dinners, and watched football and ice hockey games.

“The vicious terrorists and separatists of this group have seized their opportunity amidst the chaos. Their members and supporters have wrestled the Autonomous Republic of Vaasa from local authorities. Police and the Fort Pyotr Army garrison have been overturned. The aim of their attacks was twofold: to distract us all from their coup and to scare our nation into relenting to their demands. Blood now runs through the streets of cities like Rudolfhafen, Amfelden, and Eschenberg.

“The separatist terrorists demand that we, as a nation, give in. They demand that they break off from our Republic and create a state in which all shall be terrorized into obedience. They have called upon all those living in Vaasa to fly their colors, declaring any who refuse to be traitors and vermin.

“When we, as a nation and people, found the courage to declare our democracy against the ways of old, we promised ourselves and each other to stand strong and vigilant against the creeping shadow of blood-thirsty tyranny. My fellow citizens; that tyranny is now on our very doorstep. It has made itself known by spilling the blood of our friends and family.

“As acting President of the Arcanstotskan Republic, I call upon my countrymen to take a stand; a stand against those who would murder our loved ones with little thought, if any at all. I call upon Arcanstotskans of fighting age, whether they be here at home or abroad, to come home and fight. I call upon our friends and allies abroad, the freedom-loving nations of Eras, to stand with us in these dark days to come that are to try men’s souls.

“When I was a little boy, my father told me something that his father had told him: ‘evil can only win the world if good men do nothing to stop it.’ My friends, my compatriots, my fellow Arcanstotskans; we are facing a great evil. We are being called up to defend everything that we have ever loved. We must all answer as best as we may.

“Therefore, as commander-in-chief of the Arcanstotskan Armed Forces, I am announcing the commencement of an anti-terrorist operation in the Vaasan territory. War has been forcibly thrust upon us and we must answer the call to defend our nation.

“Thank you all. Long live democracy and long live the Republic.”
The cameras cut out.

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26 July, 2019 | 26 Medemunð, 2019
Statement on the Arcanstotskan situation
This Union of Esþursia sends its sincerest condolences to the Arcanstotskan nation, and to those whose loved ones were harmed by these truly abhorrent attacks on Siloyev, Ramelensk, and Kariyevgrad. The nation of Esþursia remains, as ever, disposed to aid through whatever means are deemed necessary.

It must be clear that terrorist attacks on civilians, deliberate and reckless destruction of lives and livelihoods, and mindless scarring on the hearts and minds of Arcanstotskan people will not succeed, and that Esþursia unequivocally denounces and condemns the actions of these fearstokers. Uncaring ruination will only strengthen the world's reserve against the actions of violence perpetrated far too regularly to target ordinary civilians, and with every attack, we pull closer together to form a world community free from spiteful terror and violence. Actions of despicable, violent hatred will not change the course of free democratic societal will.

Let it be known that the Forethane and I will stand in solidarity with the Arcanstotskan nation, whatever it takes, to counter and eradicate this scourge on their nation and those that live within it. We sincerely trust that freedom will outlast, persevere and restore, no matter the actions of these perpetrators of hatred.

---

.

30 July 2019
Around 7:30 pm
Siloyev, Arcanstotska

Sidorov solemnly took to the podium, standing not before the deputies or councilors of the Sobirat, but before people. The everyday people of his country; women, children, the young and the elderly. Their faces were innumerably varied in their details: wrinkles, glasses, hair color, and more.

But they all wore sorrow. Grief. Sadness. They, each of them, held a candle in their hands. A candle for the dead. All of the dead; in Siloyev, in Ramelensk, in Kariyevgrad. As the sun descended into dusk and the cool evening summer breeze blew through the capital, their candles burned. Some wept silently, many stayed still. But the candles burned.

Lights illuminated the large, albeit makeshift memorial erected for the deceased. An ocean of pictures of faces and names, placed upon a vertical stone slab. Things looked so much… simpler, looking into those photos. Like it was jumping back in time to a day when joy could still grace those who knew them. They smiled, drank in pubs, and played fetch with their dogs. Some of the faces were of young men and women who once had whole lives ahead of them. Others were of the old and fully-lived, who did not deserve to die like this. A few were of children—little boys and girls who never knew the world and now would never get that chance.

“‘There is a sacredness in tears,’” Sidorov opened his speech with a quote from an old Arcanstotskan writer.

“‘They are not the mark of weakness, but rather, of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues and they speak in the most human of languages. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.’”

He glanced over to the memorial and back to the crowd, then down to his speech.

“That quote comes from Mikhail Azutsov, who penned it in 1902 after losing his young daughter to disease. These people were our people. They were our neighbors, cousins, sisters, brothers, friends, parents, and people we love. They are loved—all of them, by all of us. We will cherish their names, their faces, their smiles, and the sounds of their laughter. They may have moved on from our erasly existence, but they will always live on in our hearts and our minds. We will remember them as we loved them—their strengths and failings—because we will remember them as they were beautiful lives. We will remember them. That is something that the hateful can never take away from us.

“The world marches on, but let us take this small spot of our time and our country to remember those who perished at the hands of evil. Let us consecrate this memorial in their names. Let us never forget them and let us love them unto the end of time.

“Most of all, let us not be sad that they are gone from us. Let us be happy that we had been blessed to know them; to see them smile and embrace them. Let us be happy to have known them. And let us forever keep them in our hearts. To those who have passed beyond, those who are no longer with us: rest now and be at peace. The monsters can never harm you again.

“Thank you. Long live the Arcanstotskan Republic and long live Arcanstotska.”

Sidorov stepped off the podium to take his seat with the other government officials. Prime Minister Tsvetayev spoke next, delivering more brief remarks. Then, the crowd was allowed up slowly to lay flower bouquets at the feet of the stone slab. They saw the faces of those they had lost and they wept.

The nation and the world would march on. But for now, they could weep.