Crepusculum Deorum

Crepusculum Deorum


The day began as all do in Suavidicum, with the sounds of alarm clocks blaring in houses, the smell of coffee pots brewing liquid energy, and the taste of toothpaste. Nothing would show that today was anything besides a normal day. People got their newspapers and went to get ready for work, the first warning of impending change came when the televisions and phones were disrupted. Morning news stations were able to report a massive drop in viewership. The millions of *Aureus being lost by these news agencies was alarming, yet when they tried to call the cable companies, the phone lines were dead. CEOs around the capitol city began finding people to send to the Senate, Gaius Lucius Brutus heard the news first when a runner for SNN burst into his chambers and asked why all communications were down across the city.

The day continued on, people made their way to work and tried to act like there was a plan behind the strange lack of TV and phones, they were correct, but were not prepared for how correct they were. Around Ten in the morning, the streets began to become filled with armored personnel carriers. People assumed that it was the Praetorian Guard doing a drill and took pictures and continued walking. Then the carriers opened up and men poured out. The highway entrances and exits to the city were barricaded, barbed wire emplacements were put up and all traffic was directed away from the city. Suavidicum was closed off, mirroring the lack of communication it has had for hours.

While these events were transpiring, Augustus was cut off from the intelligence apparatus from the rest of the Imperium. Legate Tiberius made sure his plan to cut the first legion, and the Imperator off from knowing what was about to happen was going off without a hitch. The Legate put down the rifle he had with him, the room full of agents in charge of the Suavidicum security lay dead in front of him. He looked at the security camera in the corner of the room and gave a thumbs up. One of his legionaries walked out of the bunker and gave a coded radio transmission to Marescallus de Imperium Nero Juili Octavian and his third legion that had cut off Suavidicum. The time had officially come.

The Centurions around the city received a short statement from the Marescallus:

“Centurions of the Third Legion the time has come, execute protocol sixty six.”

The Manipuls of the Legion began to move in on their assigned objectives, the first encounter was at the barracks of Praetorian Guard of the Senate district. The legionaries of the third surrounded the firsts location and moved in. The guardsmen at their posts were killed, and then there was a quick attack to capture the remaining men. In total, ten men were killed. The remaining manipuls moved into the Senate building, they rushed towards the Senate chambers and offices. Senators found were brought to the main chambers, they were all forced to kneel as Marescallus Nero walked in. His black uniform and jackboots were presteen, he made sure that his pipe was lit and smoking as he came to where the Consuls were kneeling. He had the two of them stood up and brought to the office of the Consul. The two were men sat at the far end of the desk while Nero brought out the Consul's “throne”. He placed his boots on the desk and began:

“Gentlemen, I would love to sit here and negotiate the safety of your families. You both have sons in the military, am I right? I would hate to give the order to terminate them, but I can promise their safety if you agree to sign this document. It says that the senate orchestrated this coup and that you are guilty of treason. If you sign then I promise that your families will be safe throughout this transition. You both are Patricians afterall, that means that we are related a while back. I don’t want to wipe out my family.”

“Fuck you Nero!” Consul Octavian spat out, his face was contorted with rage as he stood and looked out the window. All he could see in the square outside the Senate, was an APCs and a tank waiting.

“Octavian, please spare me the swearing and saying that I wont get away with this. I am and I will, so sign this document please. I promise to kill you both quickly.” Nero held out the paper and waited for both men to sign, their hands were shaking as they did.

“Before I die Nero, I want you to know. You will be brought to justice, our Imperator will not allow you to win. Deus be with him, you will be crucified.”

“Then I will see you in Damnatio. Goodbye Consuls.” The Marescallus took his document and walked out of the room. Once the door was shut behind him, two shots rang out. Nero waited for the guards to come out, and then continued to the main chamber. When he arrived at the chamber he sat on the throne of the Imperator and looked to the remaining Senators, he paused then spoke.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for your service to the Imperium, however you have been found guilty of treason and sentenced to death.Vale!”

When he finished talking, a series of shots rang out. The Senate was evacuated and locked down. The population was none the wiser as their democracy was being dismantled from above. The city was block by block shut down and secured until the Imperial palace was all that remained.

The Praetorian guard at this time was consolidated to the palace, rumors had spread and forced the Imperator to make a decision. The palace was going to be taken, but the sacred icons could not be taken. Augustus quickly got into contact with the Patriarch of Volshan, and arranged for the standards of the First Legion and Imperator. Before the encirclement of the complex was complete an honor guard was sent to the ports with the standards, where a destroyer would give the standards to Volshan. Then all the Imperator loyalists could do was wait, hours went by and around one in the afternoon the encirclement was complete.

A tense standoff ensued as a tank was driven up to the complex fence and ran it over. As the fire fight began, several other armored vehicles also broke into the complex. The Praetorian guard began to fight a fighting retreat back to the Palace itself. Eventually the Palace complex was itself breached. Legionaries began fighting in the halls and courtyards until Augustus finally called for a cease fire. He called for whoever was leading the attack to come and negotiate in his office.

Augustus sat at his desk and waited, his personal guard remained at attention as Marescallus Nero walked into the room.

“Your highness.” Nero said, monotone.

“Marescallus.” Augustus hissed.

“Your highness, as we both know we need each other. I can secure your state, and you can make my Junta legitimate.”

The Marescallus sat back and waited for Agustus to reply, the calm look on his face caused Augustus to swell with anger. The Imperator wanted to kill the man, but in order to keep the city safe he responded.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to sign this document, and I need you to come to my session in the senate and give me emergency powers.”

“If I don't?”

“Then I will continue to do this.”

Nero snapped and Beatrix was brought into the room. Her face was bruised and there was blood running down her forehead. She was held up as an officer walked behind her and shot. Augustus dropped, his guards were killed and Nero walked up to the Imerator.

“You know I can’t kill you, you can’t kill me. Now sign and the people can at least live in peace.”
Nero grabbed Augustus’ hand and moved it to the paper.

“You won’t get away with this.” Augustus growled as he signed the paper.

“We shall see about this.” Nero smiled.

---

* Suavidici currency

Eskilborg, Prydania

Kaleb Stahl's watch read 4:32 am.

He moved with a sense of urgency through the ÖSU headquarters. He was tense all over. The events in Suavidicum had blown up all over the news and before he knew it he was being beckoned here.
The ÖSU building was likewise teaming as people moved to and fro in a controlled panic. The only person who didn't seem preoccupied was a man in a non-descript black suit and tie, arms crossed behind him. His blond hair neatly combed to one side.

"Marshal Stahl," the man said as Kaleb approached.

"Agent," Kaleb returned the formality. This was serious. This wasn't one of Hvieti's gofers. Kaleb knew very little about Styrkar Lykken, but he knew enough to know if he was here...

"We're about to enter level B of the building, Marshal," Stryker said calmly, in contrast to the craziness around them.
"Phones off. Please attend to anything now."

Kaleb pulled out his phone. There were only two messages he needed to send.

I'm ok. But news is wild. I love you, and I'll be touch. Just hang tight.

He hit "send" to his husband. The next window was a text chat with his cousin. He scrolled past the talk from the previous night about what his hockey future would hold to the most recent message he just sent.

Bro I saw the news. Crazy! You ok?

Kaleb smiled and typed out a response.

Já. Looks like a long day though. Talk soon.

He hit send and shut his phone down, handing it over to the sharply dressed Agent.
"This must be serious if you're meeting me."

Styrkar just looked at him for a moment before turning.
"This way, Marshal."

The trip into the depths of the ÖSU headquarters was eery. The way your steps, the way the sounds of doors closing and locking...the way it all echoed... was unnerving.
Kaleb had been here multiple times. He was Army Intelligence after all, and the liaison between it and the ÖSU. He'd rarely come down here though. Usually he met Hvieti up in his office.

The last door. Marked "Ástand*." Styrkar punched in a code to the lock and opened it, leading Kaleb into a room full of monitors, some displaying news feeds, others displaying computer layouts.
Max Hvieti stood near the front of the room, a loose fitting Skandan shirt displaying blues and oranges hanging from his form. The light from the multitude of screens danced across his glances as he studied what he was looking at.

"I got Marshal Stahl," Styrkar announced as Kaleb stepped forward. He looked around, the room full of at least two dozen analysts attending to their monitors.

"Good," Max replied, still studying the screens. Kaleb just crossed his hands behind himself and stood there. He knew better than to interrupt the ÖSU Chief. It didn't matter anyway. Just a moment later and Hvieti turned around.

"Kaleb" he said, staying near the front of the room.
"Just the person I wanted to see."

Kaleb was a bit taken back by that. He had a relationship with Max Hvieti that could be described as "prickly."
"What do you need, Max?" he replied, his own eye line moving from the ÖSU chief to the screens behind him.

Max seemingly ignored Kaleb's question as he began to run down the situation.

"At approximately 10:00 am local time in Suavidicum- roughly half an hour ago- the Third Legion led by this man..."

An image of a stern man in a sharply maintained uniform appeared on screen.

"...Marescallus Nero seized control of the Senate building. A number of Senators and both Consuls were killed."

"It's a coup..." Kaleb said with a nod, and Max ignored his obvious observation.

"In conjunction with that the Imperator was cut out of all access to defence and intelligence apparatuses..." Max continued as a picture of Imperator Augustus was pulled up on the larger screen.
"We have reason to believe that the Imperator is being held captive by forces loyal to Nero. We also have reason to believe that the Senate has been effectively decapitated. Suavidicum is under lockdown."

"My God..." Kaleb muttered.

"You asked me what you could do."

Kaleb looked back at Max.
"Pardon?"

"When you came here, just a moment ago. You asked what you could do. I need your help. I need to know how what happened. How it happened. And how we can deal with it."

Kaleb felt a chill run up his spine. It was born from a ball of cold nerves that had formed in his belly when he first heard what had happened. But as Max explained it all...

"You were a member of the Soldiers' Committees," Max continued.
"This exact scenario, the exact same scenario, played out twenty years ago in Býkonsviði, Kaleb. When the Syndicalists seized power. And you helped make it happen. So I'm asking you. Will you help me solve this? I need to know how to get into that city. I need to know how Nero's plan works. You were involved in something like this. Help me."

Kaleb looked down the flight of stairs into the area of screens and monitor stations. Looking Max in the eye.

"Let's get to work,"

---

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici

Þorleik Breivik popped another can of Toki's and poured it into his glass before dropping a few ice cubes into it.
He never really felt the urge to drink. While others dealt with stress with brennivín or whiskey he drank pop. He always sort of prided himself on that. That at least he'd keep his wits about him. But today...he was starting to think liquor would be better.

"Status on the damn phones?" he called out.

"Nothing yet, Ambassador, lines are dead!" one of his staff called back from down the hall.

"We're cut off," Solveig Boger said, in a very direct way that undersold the seriousness of the situation.

Þorleik nodded at the commanding officer of the Knights of the Storm charged with the embassy's security.

"The phones, the cable, the internet, it's not coming back until they decide it is," Major Jakob Hoem, Þorleik's military attaché, added.
"It's a coup. Only thing it can be."

Þorleik walked past the two military officers until he was looking out the window.
Armoured personnel carriers lumbered through the streets and armed guards stood watch. The ones nearby the embassy seemed to be watching the Knights of the Storm sentries who stood guard. Watching. Evaluating.

"We can't even contact our other consulates in the country, much less home," Þorleik muttered.
"Major. Will they respect the rules of international law? Are we safe for the time being?"

"Já," Jakob replied.
"Whoever they are, they're going to want some degree of international support. They're not going to move on any of the embassies. At least not yet. They're going to try to talk to you first."

"I can keep them dangling," Þorleik muttered.
"But if we're safe, then we lock everything down?"

"Já, Ambassador," Solveig replied.
"No one leaves this compound. And my Knights will make sure no one gets in."

Þorleik smiled at that and sipped his pop.
"Ok...ok ok ok..." he muttered to himself as worked his way through the problem.

"We need to get in touch with people."

"What would you want to do?" Jakob asked, raising an eyebrow.

"First," Þorleik replied...before he gulped.
"Jesús Kristur," he muttered. He was a Thuanic but the term came naturally. And the realization of just what was happening came too.
"Fok."

The KPLH* Major and Knights of the Storm Commander both looked at him, a bit confused.

"Ok," Þorleik continued.
"I'm sending people out."

"But you said no one leaves," Solvieg replied.

"No one but one team. Three people. They go out in the diplomatic van. Make sure the flags are fully on display. And we go to the Santonians, Norsians, Scalvians, Goyaneans, and Andrennians. We figure what the fok is going on and get a diplomatic network going. Meanwhile we need to get the satellite phone working here so we can call our consulates and Býkonsviði."

"Who goes out on the team?" Solvieg asked.

"I'll send out Blóm and Kappi...but I need one of the Knights with them."

"I'll spare a man," Solvieg said with a tense nod. Þorleik returned the nod and sipped more pop.

"And if they run into trouble?" Jakob asked.
"I know I said they wouldn't come after us yet, but that could change if they see a Prydanian diplomatic van driving around."

"If it does I'll tell Blóm and Kappi to direct them to me."

"And what will you tell them?"

"I'm a diplomat," Þorleik muttered.
"I'll figure it out."

---

*Ástand- Situation
*KPLH- Royal Prydanian Army

July 7th 2021
8pm, Suavidicum, Senate building

Marscellus Nero waited in the former offices of the Consul, the entirety of the blood was yet to be soaked away from the dark wooden desk. He almost thought the stain was fitting as he had, in his mind restored the honor of the Imperium, DEUS would be proud of him.

Yet there were musings coming to him, there were several Senators who were not present during his righteous correction of course. The mountains would protect them for the moment, nothing would take his attention from the moment at hand. The pages of his speech, one that would likely come to stand the test of time. A speech that would come to usher in a new age to the Suavidici, not since the Fascist Wars would there be such a speech that would shake the foundations of a modern state.

The doors to the office of the Consuls were opened by members of the newly formed Ferra Custodia, their black and white uniforms made to show the power that they hold. Nero’s own uniform was the inspiration for his new honor guard, as the Marscellus marched towards the Senate chambers he could hear the sounds of what seemed like hundreds of people talking. His moment was exactly what he thought it would be. He took a deep breath in, and then walked in and made his way to the stage that was prepared.

Before beginning his speech he awaited the announcement of the Imperator. He waited, and waited, but after a half hour he furiously got up to begin speaking:

“Friends, Suavidici, countrymen, lend me your ears. The senate tried to launch a coup against our beloved Imperium.” Nero paused and let the crowd speak before beginning again.

“But the Senatorial plot has been foiled, the brave legionaries have put down the rebellion and now allow us to rebuild our nation. So now I come before you as your humble servant to announce the foundation of a new government, I will be calling it the Dominus government. Myself and members of the high command of the Legions will be working together in conjunction with the Imperator to form a new Imperium, one that honors its heroes and does not lose sight of what once made it great!”

The last statements seemed to hit home, because the crowd began to break out in cheers. Nero laughed to himself; it's almost like I didn’t pick this crowd out. His face switched from one of joy to stern in a moment.

“I now speak to the elements of the Imperium that resist or are upset about the new order. You need not become a traitor, our glorious country can move forward, and any enemy found will be rooted out just like the Senators who attempted to overthrow the Imperator! These “internal enemies' ' are little more than agents sent here by the enemies of the Imperium, nay enemies of the Umbrial and Kyllian peoples! Can we stand here and let these nations rip us apart again? I say no! I say that these enemies of the state must be ripped out root and stem, cast down and left to the side to wither and die as we, the chosen of Deus, the light of the world march on past these Barbarians! These barbarians are not like us, and none are so bad as those who would take the province of Palmyra from us. The Barbarians who took these islands, these barbarians who raped and murdered their way aroud Auroria are none other than the Aracnstoskan Szlavs. These monsters, these barbarians allowed for the weakening and degenerate ideas of Picard to enter the golden continent and poison the minds and lands of the rebellious province of Palmyra! Just like in old, these barbarians whether in the Imperium or abroad will pay for their slights! The nations that so humiliated us, these now withered empires will see the error of their ways as the righteous march of the Legions move swiftly across, first Aurorira, and next the world!”

The crowd erupted in applause. Nero looked up, his arms were spread out wide and palms were up. He had gotten through the part of the speech that was supposed to stir up support, now he had to recenter and announce his new title. Becoming Dominus removed any would be legal restrictions on him.

“From this day, until the emergency has ended. Until it has ended, I have assumed the position of Dominus. As my first act, I move to convict all former Senators of treason! May Deus protect the Imperium, and hail the cause!”

When Nero took his leave he waited a moment and leaned on the doors. The cheers and applause went on for ten minutes after he left. The Marescallus had to take in everything that had just happened, and he loved it. After the revelling, Nero went to the new office of the Dominus where he prepared his second act as Dominus.

The bill had been premade, his secretary had worked all day to craft a bill that would kick off the beginning of true Suavidicication. This bill that was about to be enacted was given the title Initiative II:

---

Initiative II:
Charged with the defense of the Imperium by the Lord of Auroria and the King of Kings, I Dominus of the Imperium here by enact this.

There is to be an emergency census, this census will include; the country to which they were born, and they are to include their ethnicity.
This census is to ascertain where families of immigrants are located, allowing for the new constitution, when formed, to represent these immigrant communities with senators who reflect their worldview.

This census will also ask questions about income, while this may seem to be an intrusion it is to allow for a more streamlined tax revenue system.

Eskilborg, Prydania

"Nero relied on the element of surprise and the actions of loyalists embedded in military and security organizations to pull off what he did," Stahl explained as Nero's picture loomed on the main display screen.

"That was what I did. The Soldier's Committees. When the Syndicalist People's Militia stormed Absalonhöll and Alþingi the military was mobilized. We played the role of rising up from within our own ranks, pre-emptively crippling any response to the insurrection. Nero needed that. It's essential."

"The full weight of the Imperial military could crush the Third Legion," Styrkar Lykken replied, only for Kaleb to shake his head.

"They can but they won't. Had the Royal Prydanian Army not been taken by surprise, had its officer corp not been caught off guard, the Syndicalist Revolution would have been crushed in a day or two. But they were. We understood the Army was our biggest hurdle to success and planned to unbalance it. Make it not realize the strength it possessed until it was too late. That's what Nero has done. He had to. Otherwise he'd be under siege but he isn't."

Max Hevieti studied the screens some more before turning to Stahl.
"So there are elements that aren't loyal to Nero."

"Any garrisons in the capital, by this point, have been taken over by the Third Legion. But there would have been a moment, a precious moment, early on when the military would have tried to deploy before being cut off at the knees. Those soldiers, assuming they avoided arrest or worse, would have gone underground. If you want into that city, you need to find them."

Max looked over the map of Suavidicum.
"You were one of Lieftur's intelligence officers."

"Max I..."

"No listen," Max replied.
"You're one of Nero's men now. Look at the map. You're an intelligence officer for the Third Legion. He asks you where he can find resistance forces. Where do you start?"

Kaleb looked over the map of Suavidicum.
"Here."

"Why there?"

"It's working class residential. Houses packed in tight. Many of them share walls. Say you're in hiding. Nero's men come looking. You punch though a wall. Next house. You stay one house ahead of them. And you're out of sight before they even finish the block."

Max looked over at Styrkar.
"You got that?"

"Já," Styrkar nodded.

"Good," Max replied.
"You'll deploy immediately, X-78."

"Deploy? What?" Kaleb asked. Max hadn't told him he was sending a man in.

"Agent Lykken is going to be embedded in a diplomatic team we’re going to try to get embedded in our embassy. The government is currently trying to negotiate for their passage into the capital.”

“To what end?” Kaleb asked, raising an eyebrow. What the ÖSU was planning wasn’t known to him.

Max said nothing at first, instead walking a bit past Kaleb. He was contemplating what to say. His instinct was to say “it’s need to know,” but he knew Kaleb too well to know it wouldn't fly. He'd bang on enough doors until he found out what he wanted to know.

“The Prime Minister feels it's imperative that Nero’s gambit is… weakened in some way. He's tasked the ÖSU with making contact with anyone opposed to Nero in Suavidicum and establishing a dialogue.”

Kaleb looked at the map of Suavidicum again, and then back at Max.
“Do you have a spare space I can have my things brought to?”

“What for?”

“Because, Max, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together trying to figure this out. And I have one more suggestion.”

“What?” Max asked, peering over his glasses.

“Give Agent Lykken a dye job. You're sending an undercover agent to Suavidici. Try not to send the most obvious viking-looking motherfucker this side of Stormurhafn.”

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici

Magnus Blóm felt the lead in his legs as the Prydanian diplomatic van he was driving was parked out in front of the Santonian embassy. He kept nervously glancing to his right to see if Koll Kappi was on his way back.

“He's going to be alright,” Lt. Askr Lonning of the Knights of the Storm said, looking over his shoulder. Magnus nodded. The glances from the Third Legion patrols were menacing but all three of them had lived through the Syndicalists. People like this… they weren't new.

Askr went back behind the driver’s seat, clutching the rifle. They'd made their rounds to the Norsians, Goyaneans, and Andrennians. The Santonians had a satellite phone. After this they'd return to the Scalvian embassy, right next to the Prydanian embassy. Once they were done there they'd be home free. At least for today.

“You know how to shoot, já?” Askr asked.

“My grandpabbi taught me how,” Magnus said with a tense nod. “Koll doesn't.”

Askr nodded, setting aside a pistol.
“Then you take this if it comes down to it.”

Magnus nodded as he watched another Third Legion patrol pass before glancing to his side again.
“Koll!”

The door to the Santonian embassy opened and Koll Kappi quickly made his way to the van, holding the device.
“We have a working satellite phone!” he said once the door was closed.

Magnus nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. He pulled out of the courtyard, as the gateway to the Santonian embassy opened, and out into the streets once more.

“With any luck we’ll get back without any issues,” Magnus said. Koll nodded and looked the phone over. It was a different brand than the one the Prydanian embassy used. The one that wasn't working.

“Do you think the Scalvians will be able to make sense of this?”

“If anyone knows how to navigate this it's Scalvia,” Askr muttered from the back of the van.
“Say, Koll. Magnus tells me you don't know how to shoot.”

“I'm from Býkonsviði, I never learnt how to shoot,” Kol replied.

“So is Magnus,” Askr said back, needling the two embassy staff. Mostly to try and lighten the mood.
“He can shoot.”

“Magi’s got sveitalubbi grandparents, that's different,” Koll said with a chuckle prompting Magnus to smile slightly and stick his tongue out at Koll.

“Well two of you need your national service at the end of this, but maybe I can give you some pointers when we get back to the embassy,” Askr replied.
“I'd like it if both of you knew how to use a gun, if we're going on more of these excursions.

“The Ambassador and the Major don't think they'll fire on us,” Koll said, trying to sound hopeful.

“Ideally they won't,” Askr replied.
“But I’ve seen the look on men like these. They're itching for a fight.”

Neither Koll or Magnus asked where he'd seen that look. They may not have been Civil War vets like Askr but they saw that same look one the Syndicalist People’s Militia.

“I’m just saying better safe than…”
Askr was cut off as the van came to a halt in the street.
“The fok is happening.”

“Talaðu um djöfulinn og hann mun birtast*...” Magnus muttered.
The sight almost triggered flashbacks in him, as the three watched a young woman getting dragged from a townhouse by Third Legion soldiers. The three looked on in shock for a moment. They'd not seen anything but patrolling soldiers and empty streets since this whole thing went down…

“What do we do…” Koll said softly. Magnus didn't have an answer for that. His own memories, painful as they were, flashed across his mind. And then…he didn't know if it was the woman breaking free from her captors first or if he'd hit the gas first but the van screeched and pulled up to the woman as she dashed across the street.

“Open the side of the van!” he yelled to Askr in the back. Askr’s heart raced as he processed what to do- Neither of these embassy staffers were his superior. He answered to the Commander and Ambassador back at the embassy. But…in a split second her slid the door to the side of the van open as it screeched to a stop.

“GET IN!” Magnus yelled, not looking back. His eyes were solidly on the street ahead of him. And where he had to go to get back to the embassy.

“Magi, what the fuck?” Koll gasped, but Magnus just replied “flash the papers!”
Koll undid his seatbelt and scrambled behind into the back of the van and froze seeing Askr on one knee with his rifle pointed at the Third Legion soldiers. The panicked woman scampering into the van. She was yelling “go! you need to go!” in Umbrial.

“Do you think any of these foks speaks Prydanski?” Askr asked Koll as he clutched his rifle.

“No…”

“Good ‘cause otherwise this could get awkward.”

Koll just froze until one of the Third Legion soldiers went to grab the woman. She began to sob and kick and Askr forcibly pushed him back yelling “STAND BACK” in accent Umbrial.

The Third Legion soldiers raised their guns, the one at the front of the group calling out “this woman is an enemy of the state! You are interfering in a lawful arrest!”

“I don't think so, fiskdós,” Askr growled back, tossing in a Prydanian insult to the end of the Umbrial.

Koll, gulped, holding up his diplomatic passport.

“We’re agents of the Prydanian embassy and this van is legally territory of the Kingdom of Prydania. I can't allow you to take this woman.”

“She's an enemy of the state,” the Third Legion soldier repeated. Koll looked down at the crying woman. She seemed traumatized. And barely 18 if that. What possible enemy could she be?

“Talk go Ambassador Breivik,” Koll managed to say, clearly shaking. Askr kept his gun trained on the led Third Legion.

“They killed my father! My mother! Don't give me to them!” the woman cried as Koll dropped to one knee to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. As much as he wanted to help… he had soldiers to deal with.

“Give us the girl and…”

“The girl might as well be having an ice cream at the park in Býkonsviði,” Koll replied.
“You can't have her. Talk to Ambassador Breivik.”

The lead Third Legion soldier glanced at Koll and then Askr, who still had his gun aimed at him.

“You going to shoot, viking?” the Third Legion soldier said with a threatening growl.

“That's not really my decision,” Askr replied.
“But we shoot invaders in my country. You come in this van then that's what you are.”

The next three second passed like thirty minutes…

The Third Legion soldier said nothing. He just grunted and made a signal for his men to lower their guns.
“We got enough vermin today,” he scowled.
“What's one more rat.”

Magnus was staring dead ahead, but the words…they cut through him. And he gulped as he gripped the steering wheel. And once he heard the van side door close…he peeled out.

“What the fok?” Askr yelled as they sped away, the woman collapsing on the floor of the van.

“We gotta get back to the embassy,” Koll said softly as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“WHAT THE FOK, MAGNUS?” Askr barked, repeating his question.

Magnus could feel his heart pounding. And he could only utter one phrase.

“Never again.”

It was the last thing anyone said aside from the woman’s sobbing as the van returned to the safety of the Prydanian embassy.

---

*sveitalubbi- rural person
*Talaðu um djöfulinn og hann mun birtast- Speak of the Devil and he shall appear

Supermarine by Hans Zimmer, 8:03

OOC Note: Post approved by @Ianmey7

July 15th 2022, 5am
Villa of the Dominus, outside Suavidicum

Antonius went in for more of the cocaine that was abundant. This was supposed to be a dinner party, but at this point it would be incorrect to call this event a dinner party. But his Dominus required his presence so Antonius would obliged him. There were other members of the inner circle here, Tiberius, Gaius, and Heracles. The memories from dinner were long gone, and Antonius kept thinking about the speech the Dominus had given before putting on Stella Conflictu.

“Soon we will see the utter destruction of the Empires that have humiliated us. These barbarians are not like us, they are less than us and do not deserve the glory that our new world will bring. I can feel the power inside me, I can feel the ability to bring the world to heel. I am scientifically and spiritually convinced that I am possessed by the spirit of Constantine the Great. I ask you all, my most loyal advisors, to go out and bring the purification of our lands. Find these Arcanstoascans, we need to cause outrage within the population, we must cause the public to see them as enemies of the state!”

Antonius, spurred on by the stimulants, suddenly stood up and looked at his compatriots. He began to yell at them all:

“I see what our Dominus has been saying! I see how we can bring about the destruction of the enemies of National Fraternum! We must find the way back to the true origin of the Umbrial people, Elleria! Only through the occult can we open the door. I will use the Ferra Custodia as a form of knight, like the nations of the west. They will launch a crusade around the world in order to find the door that can only be opened by a true Umbrial!”

The leader of the FC* paused after his tirade had subsided, and then the cheers of the other men in the room broke out. The leader of the FC would serve as the head of the vanguard that would bring the ultimate victory of the Umbrial peoples. The five men turned off the movie and began to work on songs that were to bring the national identity out of the people of the Imperium.

Nero looked at Antonius and walked over, he reached out his hand and placed something in Antonius’. When the FC marshal opened his he saw a golden Chi Rho with Laurel leaves. An honor that made Antonius officially one of the most powerful men in the Imperium. Antonius gave his Dominus a salute and the pair went back to making a new national ideal.

---

July 8th
Atrium, south east Imperium

Storms raged as a man ran from building to building. Legionaries moved all over, taking peoples identification cards as they went. He was the prey to these lions, the man ran through the cover of darkness until he reached a bar and quickly entered. The world of rain and lightning quickly changed as this centuries old bar greeted the man. The bartender looked at him with a strange, almost cautious look.
The man walked over to the bar and waited for the bartender to walk over, which of course he did.

“What can I get for you?” The Bartender asked the man.

“I’ll have a side of Saintonge fries.” The man quickly responded.

“Any toppings?” The Bartender gave a much more stern response.

“No but I will take them raw.” the man responded, his voice cracking a bit.

“Right this way.” The bartender brought the man into a back room; it was used before to store Yalkan rum brought by pirates. It smelled like sea water and alcohol, but it was a hidden place that only the owning family of the bar knew about. When the man entered the room he saw what used to be his coworkers, Senator Lucius, and Senator Stellious. They had been in hiding since Nero had unleashed his summary execution on the other members of the Senate. The trio stood for a moment before getting down to work.

“We can not allow this mad man to run our country like this any longer. He will turn all of Eras against us soon. If what he says about Arcanstoscans comes to fruition there might be worse than some violence too. We have to do something!” Lucius looked at both of the men.

“What can we do, Lucius? We can be shot on sight, no one will risk the state coming after them to help us!”

“I heard there were mass defections from the legions that were not directly involved in the coup. Maybe we can use the love that those soldiers have for the constitution to try and do something. If we can get some kind of message out to a sympathetic Legate then maybe, just maybe we can do something!” The senator who had walked in late finally said something, he was senator Ocatavian Brutus.

“If we can get even one legion on our side, we could pose an issue to the forces of Nero, who has three legions that are confirmed loyal to him. I’ve also heard that the Epiphan are starting to have meetings about a possible push for succession. His forces will be so divided that we could make a push for Suavidicum!” Brutus finally sat down as he finished talking.

“Very well, then you should find a way to talk to the legate of the eighth legion, Marcus Vitrius. His men were in this area when the coup took place. I even heard that there was a standoff between his men and the forces of the fifth.” Stellious looked at Brutus and leaned back in his chair, his face betrayed his cool demeanor though.

“I will go tomorrow evening. I just hope our gamble pays off.” Brutus said, looking at the map.

---

*: the FC is a shorthand for the Ferra Custodia

Býkonsviði, Prydania

Tobias leaned back in his chair and glanced over at the framed picture of him as a small child with his father and mother. He still had those thoughts, when things got tense, that he didn’t feel like he should be here. He wasn’t even thirty. His father, or his long-dead Uncle Baldr… they would have been better. Especially now.

But that also made him feel immensely guilty, because deep down he wanted them around to have an uncle, to have a pabbi and mamma. And that deep sense of doubt that thought someone else would be better off being King right now seemed to cheapen his own loving memories of those he lost. Like a vampiric little demon made of doubt.
He sighed again. Himnasviði, outside of Krysuvik, would have to wait. He was looking forward to that…and poor Alycia. She was being briefed on this from her own people, while pregnant.

Tobias looked over at Svane, and said “well it looks like Nero made the decision for us.”

“In what way, Your Majesty?” Kjell Svane replied. He looked a bit ragged but it was his job as Prime Minister to keep the King informed on important matters.

“Nero just went on tv,” Tobias replied, “and blurted out some shit about going after Szlavs. He sounded like my uncle,” he continued, referring to Anders.

“Já,” Svane nodded.
“In my frank estimation, he did. But I am unfortunately not seeing how this makes things clearer for us.”

“We can’t support people like that,” Tobias replied.
“We should condemn him, cut off the grain shipments.”

Svane sat across the desk from the young King and pondered for a moment.
“What about our people?”

“In Suavidici?”

“Já,” Svane replied.
“Due to our economic partnership we’ve established a number of consulates in that country. Each of them is fully staffed. If we take a hard line Nero might go after them.”

“He wouldn’t dare, it would violate international law.”

“Men like Nero only care about those sorts of things so long as they can benefit from them.”

Tobias leaned back in his seat, and grunted softly. He felt a very uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. A very uncomfortable knot and a very uncomfortable thought invading his mind. But he pushed it aside for now.

“We can’t say nothing.”

“And we won’t, Your Majesty,” Svane replied.
“But we owe it to our own people to keep them safe and…” he trailed off.

“And what?”

Kjell smiled softly. Prydania was now a fully constitutional monarchy. Yet the King of Prydania retained a number of prerogatives. If Tobias wanted to know what the government had planned then he could ask and Svane would be required to tell him.
Not that it was something that the Prime Minister thought the King would be opposed to, really.

“I am a diplomat, Your Majesty. I spent our Civil War in contact with a number of governments on behalf of the FRE.”

Tobias nodded. He knew that already.

“I was in a rare position, Your Majesty,” he continued.
“I worked with the Goyanean government in securing safe passage for a number of refugees fleeing the Syndicalists. Many Prydanians who found refuge in Goyanes made their way through Santonian diplomatic networks.”

Tobias nodded again. He knew this too.

“So my rare position was that I had contact with…people.” He left it vague. The Civil War was over. The Syndicalists were gone. But still…he talked to people in Goyanes and Saintonge and sometimes arranged for things that would upset various strict interpretations of neutrality in the name of saving people who needed saving. Best to not go into details. He hoped Tobias wouldn’t ask- he’d have to tell him. And thankfully the King didn’t.

“But,” Kjell continued, “I became well versed in the Santonian Line and how it worked to get refugees from the Syndicalists into both Saintonge and Goyanes. I believe we have an opportunity.”

Tobias’ green eyes went wide, but then narrowed a bit.
“We are still recovering from the Civil War and the Syndicalist era. We’re not in a position to absorb a large refugee population.”

“No, not quite yet,” Svane said with a smile.
“But,” he continued, “there is more than one way to save someone. Our consulates, and by extension their vehicles, represent extraterritorial jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Prydania. Using them as ‘islands’ we can ferry people to the eastern regions of Suavidici. It’s mountainous and remote and we have intelligence to suggest that it’s far enough from Nero’s grasp. It’s also likely where any Suavidici resistance will eventually congregate.”

“Intelligence?”

“The ÖSU has been working hard to get a picture of the situation, but we were finally able to contact our embassy in Suavidicum. They’ve confirmed, among other things, that Nero isn’t just talk. He’s begun sending soldiers after people. There is already one person, an eighteen year old girl, in the embassy that had been saved.”

Tobias leaned forward a bit, wanting to say something. He couldn’t think of the words though. He just…he just couldn’t…he couldn’t escape that thought that had invaded earlier.

“This is why we need to keep our people safe. Not just for their own sake, but for the people who could be saved by keeping them alive out of Nero’s line of fire.”

“Men like him…” Tobias replied softly…
He wanted to say that they reminded him of his Uncle Anders. Or Thomas Nielsen.
“...they need to be stood up to.”

“And he will be stood up to,” Kjell replied.
“But if we hold back the grain shipments, if we hammer him, even if we do it and we pull our people out safely, he will hurt more people before this is over. But if we threaten these things…then…” Kjell chuckled.

“Then what?” Tobias asked.

“He wants to run the country, Your Majesty. If he interferes in our efforts he’ll find out what it’s like to govern an angry and hungry populace.”

Tobias nodded. He didn’t feel good about it. Certainly not easy about it, but he understood it.
“What do you need from me?”
“I need you to understand what it is we will attempt to do Your Majesty.”

“I do,” Tobias shot back, a bit defensively. That thought again…

“I know,” Kjell replied with a nod and smile to reassure him before he reached down to pull some papers from his briefcase.

“I also need you to sign these. Seventy-five members of the Huntsmen’s Corps were transferred to the Knights of the Storm. As the Knights serve the function of diplomatic security this will let us get trained military personnel into the country unharassed. So long as we can keep Nero at bay.”

Tobias took the papers. They were transfer orders. Orders that usually didn’t require his direct signature, but the Knights of the Storm were a special branch of the armed forces. Directly representing, and under, the King. Every member’s transfer had to be personally signed off.

He began to sign his name to each paper, working his way through the stack. He stayed quiet. Mostly because he didn’t know what to say. He let the sinking feeling in his stomach churn a bit. And he didn’t dare focus on the thoughts that dominated his mind. Not now. He couldn’t let emotions get the best of him. And finally the last form was signed.

“Mr. Prime Minister?”

“Já Your Majesty?”

Tobias set the pen down and began to open and close his right fist a bit. Seventy-five signatures wasn’t great.

“Your party was elected because you promised idealism. I hope…I just…” he paused. He needed to consider what was appropriate to say.
“Please, just do the right thing.”

Kjell nodded. Unlike Aubyn and Brandt he didn’t have a pre-existing personal relationship with the King. He thought he understood though. He thought he was able to see his desire to do something more, behind the guarded language.
“I assure you, we will, Your Majesty,” he said with a nod before he collected the papers and stood. Tobias stood with him as Kjell offered a slight bow.

“I’m afraid I must be going. We’re all going to have long nights for a little bit.”

“Please stay well,” Tobias said softly, before watching the Prime Minister. And then he looked around. He was alone. He sighed, determined he’d find his sons. And as he walked through the halls of Absalonhöll his mind began to churn again. And as it did…his steps slowed down. Until he came to a stop.

Tobias looked down at his feet for a moment, and then up at the sky. The thought that was gnawing at him. He decided he’d talk to someone, a family member. He’d done that for a while, to comfort him. Talk to his mamma and pabbi. His Aunt Vera. Even Astrid. Or his grandparents. But he was going to talk to someone today that he hadn’t spoken to much, but who he felt an urge to talk to.

“Uncle Timothée,” he said softly, looking up to talk to the deceased King Timothée II of Saintonge.
“Is this what this is like? Having to stand by and watch awful things happen? And to not be able to fix it? To have to appease evil men for a greater good?”
Tobias sighed. He never knew Timothée II of Saintonge. For most of his life he thought his distant uncle simply never cared about him, as Prydania descended into civil war and his family was murdered.
It was only after the War that William told Tobias that Timothée had made inquiries to try and find out if he- the son of the Prince he’d offered safe refuge to- had been safe and doing well. The realization that his distant uncle had cared, but had been restricted in what he could do by complex political realities had been sobering.
And it was something he prayed he’d never have to face himself.

But here he was.

“If this is what it was like,” Tobias said facing heaven in accented Santonian, “then…”
He stopped. He felt a whole lot of weight and sadness on his shoulders.
He looked up again.
“Merci. Je vais essayer de suivre votre chemin*.”

---

*Merci. Je vais essayer de suivre votre chemin- Thank you. I’ll try to follow your path

OOC Note: Thanks to @Kyle for the inspiration

15 July 2022
Embassy of the Second Arcanstotskan Republic
Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici

It was about ten in the morning.

Yevdokim Yukhantsev sighed as he stared out his office window and into the streets of Suavidicum. They had been bustling with cars and pedestrians a few mere weeks ago. Now the city was under lockdown with a madman calling all the shots. The Arcanstotskan ambassador wiped his sweaty hands off his black coat. His mind raced with fears and worries and nightmare scenarios.

“Captain Zavslavsky to see you, sir,” Yevdokim’s secretary’s voice came in over the phone machine, breaking the previous uncanny silence and startling the middle-aged ambassador. He moved over to the phone machine and held his finger down on a button.

“Thank you, Tanas. Send him in.” He was never good at hiding his nervousness.

The built, imposing figure of Captain Osip Zaslavsky stepped through the door, dressed in full camouflage fatigues and combat gear; helmet, vest and all.

“Mr. Ambassador,” Zavslavsky nodded. He looked like he was expecting a fight. No doubt.

“Captain,” Yevdokim sighed. He felt slightly safer in Zavslavsky’s presence but he knew they were all still in danger. “Have you managed to reestablish contact with Siloyev?”

Zavslavsky dipped his head. “No, sir. No one’s been able to contact the government or even the other embassies here in the city.”

Yevdokim buried his head in his hands. “What are we going to do? What are we going to do?” He was on the verge of outright panic.

“They want us isolated. Us specifically! What if they try to attack the embassy? What if they try to kill us or take us hostage? What if—”

As Yevdokim rambled on with a list of worst-case scenarios, Zavslavsky stormed over and pulled his boss up from his seat. The Army captain smacked the ambassador across the face, sounding off a loud clap as his palm struck Yevdokim’s cheek.

Zaslavsky shook the ambassador by the shoulders. “Sir! You need to keep a clear head! Keep your mind on the here and now! Don’t worry about what-ifs!”

Yevdokim, still taken aback by the slap inflicted by his own security chief, corrected his glasses and stood up, brushing himself off.

“Okay. Okay, there has to be something we can do…”

Zavslavsky leaned in. “Sir, I would strongly advise evacuating all staff to the—”

The door creaked open. Yevdokim’s secretary, Tanas, stuck his head in. “Terribly sorry to interrupt, sirs, but we’ve got a problem.”

“What is it?” Zavslavsky was mildly annoyed about being interrupted.

“Nero’s propaganda chief, Frauli, just went on national Suavidici television. You’ll want to listen to what he’s got to say…”

Tanas rushed over to Yevdokim’s desk and laid his smartphone down, pressing play on a video. A brawny man with a dark beard stood before a microphone and an indoor crowd.

“Sons and daughters of the Imperium, your destiny beckons! Stand with your brothers and sisters! Stand with us and together our great nation will stride forth undefeated! The past is our faith, the present is our strength, and the future is our birthright!”

“When was this speech televised?” Yevdokim glanced up to Tanas.

“About ten minutes ago, sir.”

Frauli continued on, allowing the cheering of his audience to die down. “These pigs; these Arcanstotskan pigs, hailing from a land far from here, have made it their mission to see our Imperium humiliated and destroyed. In the 18th Century, their warships and armies stole Palmyra from us! Our rightful land — stolen from our great nation! When we tried to take back what was ours, they sent our fleets to the bottom of the sea! Now their brethren, these ‘Rayvostokans,’ openly mock us with their communism! These szlavic curs can espouse ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’ all they like; they can dodge responsibility with their ‘republic’ all they want, but they’re still the exact same people who knocked us over and kicked us while we were down all those years ago! Their people, like leeches, dwell among the natives of our nation. They erode our culture, they disgrace us all with their presence and their slut-lust for power over us! Arcanstotskan colonialism is a plague upon this country. We, as sons and daughters of Suavidicum, must step up as plague-cleansers! We must cure our country!”

“They are here, in this city! In their lair of evil called an ‘embassy!’”

“Chyort,” Yevdokim muttered, his mind once again skyrocketing into what-if scenarios.

“Go!” Frauli commanded his audience. “Tear down their dwelling of evil! Go!” Thunderous applause and chants for blood drowned Frauli out and the video stopped.

Zavslavsky wasted no time, grabbing his hand-held radio. “Sergeant Ismaylov, ready the men and have them guard all entrances to the embassy! We’re going to come under siege!”

The captain turned to Yevdokim and met him eye-to-eye. He knew these next thirty minutes would be critical to the safety of everyone at the embassy.

“Mr. Ambassador, we need to get all embassy staff into the safe room.”

Yevdokim, looking on the verge of utter panic and hysteria once more, forced himself to take a deep breath. He nodded.

---

Later…

It was now around three in the afternoon.

A mass of angry, roaring people had assembled just outside the gates of the Arcanstotskan embassy in Suavidicum. Their yells and chants and angry cries for them to leave the Imperium went up against an iron gate and a line of Arcanstotskan Army soldiers. They all had their rifles in hand, barrels pointed to the ground.

The Suavidici summer sun was scorching, beating down on everyone. Captain Zavslavsky took a drink of water and wiped some sweat from his forehead.

Sergeant Ismaylov adjusted his glasses. “Do you think they’ll try to break in?”
“Absolutely,” Zavslavsky replied bluntly before he took off, marching towards the angry mass. A soldier gave him a megaphone. He had to push the crowd away. Assuming his position between his own men and the mob, the Army captain brought the megaphone up to his lips.

“Attention! Attention! These embassy grounds are the legal territory of the Second Arcanstotskan Republic! Trespassing will not be tolerated!”

“Get out of our country!” One man screamed.

“Go back home!” Another bellowed.

“I repeat,” Zavslavsky kept his voice calm and clear, despite his accented Umbrial. “These embassy grounds are sovereign Arcanstotskan territory! Trespassing will not be tolerated! Disperse immediately! You must all disperse immediately!”

A frenzy; a crazed hysteria of shouts and cheers kicked into the volatile crowd as some Suavidici tried to climb over the gates to Zavslavsky’s left side. Then to his right. Then right in front of him.

“Get off the gates! I repeat: get off the gates!” No one listened. His men raised their rifles in defensive stances, ready to riddle the mob with holes if they moved on them.

Switching back to speaking Arcanstotskan, Zavslavsky bellowed “shoot over their heads!” Some of the soldiers opened fire, purposefully shooting into the sky. It seemed to be enough to drive people to dismount the gate.

“Anyone who steps onto these embassy grounds with malicious intent will be arrested according to Arcanstotskan law! Back! Get back!” The captain shot a couple of rounds into the air, driving a band of men to climb down on the Suavidici side.

Slowly, the mob dissipated and slunk back into the city. It was over, for now…

---

That night…

The crowd was still there. They had merely backed off. But they were still there, watching the Arcanstotskan soldiers. Other mobs had attempted to force their way in via other entrances to the embassy throughout the day but those attempts had failed. Twenty-three people had been taken into custody. The situation was bad. Very bad.

Cheers erupted from the mass of people as the human sea parted ways, opening up the street. Third Legion armored vehicles stormed forward, rushing the gate, slamming through the iron bars that thinly separated the Imperium Suavidici from the Second Republic. Suavidici soldiers dismounted and opened fire on the Arcanstotskan security. The soldiers rushed in, followed by the mob. The perimeter had been breached. Arcanstotskan soldiers trying to fall back to the embassy building itself were cut down. Third Legion soldiers began to indiscriminately shoot up the building’s exterior.

A massacre was coming.

Thirty minutes in and the Army security detail was down to four men, Zavslavsky among them. The embassy was overrun with angry Suavidici and hostile Third Legion soldiers, frothing at the mouth for a taste of Arcanstotskan blood. The four Arcanstotskan soldiers who had thus far survived had fallen back to the door of the saferoom where the embassy staff were all hiding.

Their chanting. Their shouting. Their demand for blood and violence.

“I want an arm!”
“I want a leg!”
“I want a head!”

They were coming. The chanting and screaming got ever closer.

Bullets whizzed by as Third Legion soldiers fired down the corridor. Zavslavsky and what remained of his men returned fire, cutting some people down — some soldiers, some civilians. It didn’t matter now though. What mattered now was the defense of this door.

One of the Arcanstotskan soldiers was struck in the shoulder by a bullet, then the face. Another hit in the neck moments later as he tried to pull his brother in arms to safe cover. It was just Zavslavsky and Ismaylov now.

Zavslavsky peeked out from behind cover, letting loose a hail of automatic fire as a crowd tried to rush them. Soon though, they were upon them both, beating them savagely with fists and feet and metal pipes and clubs and rifle butts.

Third Legion soldiers shoved their way through the crowd, storming up to Zavslavsky and Ismaylov. They just shot the sergeant. Straight to the point with a bullet to the forehead.

A soldier stomped over to Zavslavsky, given brief respite as the crowd backed away to make room for the executioner.

“Any last words?” The Third Legion man leveled his sidearm at Zavslavsky’s face. Acting quickly, the Arcanstotskan captain snatched the pistol away, sending a bullet into the Suavidici soldier’s jaw and brain. The man collapsed but the other soldiers responded by filling Zavslavsky’s torso with rifle bullets.

The soldiers forced their way into the saferoom, killing some but taking most as captives. As they were dragged away, the crowd and their soldiers beat them and screamed them down.

The Arcanstotskan embassy had fallen.

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici

“What’s your name?” Þorleik Breivik asked the frightened girl in Mercanti, trying to keep his voice soft. The girl was trembling and had only recently stopped crying.

“Olga Bykov,” she replied before continuing “they killed my mother and father…” she’d been saying that over again.

“Ok, Olga dear,” Þorleik said softly.
“You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

The girl began to cry again and he pulled up a chair so he could sit and face her.
“I promise,” he said as he put a hand on her shoulder.
“I promise you’ll be safe here, and we’ll get you out of here,” he said in a firm voice.
“I promise,” he repeated. She sniffled and nodded, looking down.

“Koll is going to interview you. I need you to tell him everything. We need to know everything so we can tell everyone.”
Olga sniffled again and nodded as Þorleik stood and walked over to Magnus and Cole.
“Magnus, go get her paperwork done up. Koll? Interview her. Tape it. And when it’s done, put it on a drive and give it to me.”

“Já,” Koll nodded. Magnus, though, still looked dead ahead.

“Magnus,” Þorleik said softly.
“Are you ok?”

“Já,” Magnus said softly.

“Ok then,” Þorleik replied, handing him a file.
“Go process her paperwork.” He pat the lad on the back and led him out of the room as Koll began the interview. Þorleik knew what Magnus had seen during the Syndicalist era and this couldn’t be easy. But fok…paperwork would do him some good. Þorleik waited until he was off before heading back to his office. He found Captain Solveig Boger of the Knights of the Storm and Major Jakob Hoem of the KPLH* and sat down with a sigh.

"Girl's safe, Kappi's talking to her. The statement just went out. All the ambassadors."

"Given what just happened," Solveig replied, "I'm formally requesting you allow me to order a full lockdown of this facility. Code Black."

Þorleik sighed and reached under his desk to the small refirdgerator, pulling another can ok Toki's out. He popped the can, sipping before looking over at Jakob.
"Major?"

"It's bleak, if I can be honest."

"You said..."

"And since I said we'd be safe, Ambassador, we've rescued a girl who was going to be gunned down in the street, Nero's declared open season on Szlavs, and an embassy has been stormed. I'm afraid my earlier assesment can't be relied on."

"He spoke about avenging the Imperium. That means we're not in his crosshairs."

"Nero's insane," the Major replied bluntly.
"We're not in his crosshairs until we are. And Arcanstotska's a Bergum Pact memeber. If they consider what just happened an act of war, and the Bergum Pact Council agrees, we will be at war with the Imperium."

The words hung heavy in the air as Þorleik looked down at his can of pop. He took another sip as Jakob continued.
"I have to advise you to grant Captain Boger's request."

Þorleik leaned forward and pushed the phone towards Solveig.
"Do what you have to do, Captain."

Solveig nodded, feeling her jaw clench before she took the phone, standing, and dialing the embassy's internal intercom.

"Embassy staff, Knights of the Storm. This is Captain Solveig Boger. I am raising our threat level to Black. I repeate, I am raising the threat level to Black. All avilable Knights personnel are to consider this building under seige. Protocol 54 is in effect."

The sound of boots through the hallways was almost immediate as the twelve Knights personnel tasked with Embassy security began the process of lowering barricade-strength security shields over the entrances and exists and major windows as others took up positions with sniper rifles and automatic weaponry on the upper floor.

"I'll be overseeing my Knights," Solveig said with a sort of exhausted determination before leaving Jakob and Þorleik.

"We need to be prepared for the worst," Jakob said softly.

"We sell them most of their grain," Þorleik replied, just starring ahead.

"If Nero gives a single shit about his people then that grain's the only thing that'll keep us alive. And right now... I'm not willing to put any krossar on it."

"Neither am I," Þorleik muttered before he pulled out the satallite phone he got from the Santonians.

"I have a novel idea though, if you'll hear it."

Þorleik chuckled. Jabok was here to provide a military officer's take on diplomatic situations. Of course he wanted to hear it.
"What is it?"

"Call Ivans Baturins," the Major said.
"He's next door. We share a wall. And not only are we on good terms but our militaries both buy Andrennian. If we're going to be under seige we're better off together. Our weaponry, our amo, it's all compatible."

"You want me to call Ivans and suggest we form an armed compound in the middle of a fascist occupied city."

There was a pregnant pause before the Major nodded.
"Já."
And then there was another pregnant pause.

"I'm from Austurland. Not even the craziest thing I've heard to survive a fokken war," Þorleik muttered. He pulled out the satellite phone he'd gotten from the Santonians and punched in a number. Breathing deep before his Scalvian counterpart picked up.

"Ivans," he said in Mercanti. The wonders of technology. He had to call a fokking space probe to talk to a man right next door.
"It's Þor. I have a novel idea. What do you say about punching through our shared wall?"

Jakob got up and walked around the office as Þorleik spoke to the Scalvian ambassador, looking back with a hopeful expression when Þorleik hung up.

"I need to find a sledgehammer," the Prydanian ambassador said with a smirk. He was just about to get up when the phone rang. Þorleik looked down, a bit confued. Until he saw the number. Býkonsviði was calling.

"Hallo," Þorleik replied.
"Já, we're instituting full lockdown. Já... um hm...."

Jakob tilted his head as Þorleik's eyes went wide. And then he nodded.
"Já...já... understood." He hung the phone up and sat back down.

"That was the Prime Minister."

"And?" Jakob asked.

"The Arcanstotkans..."

Jakob winced. If they declared war...

"...want their people back. We're going to mediate between them and Nero."

Jakob walked back over to the desk, sitting down with a sigh.
"For a moment I thought you were going to say we were at war. That almost sounds better."

"You ever deal with a SoComm?" Þorleik asked.

"No. But I dealt with plenty of Syndies. And the principal's the same. Don't be intimidated."

Þorleik nodded and chuckled.
"Piece of fokken cake," he laughed.
"Actually..."

He got up and ran to the door to his office throwing it open. He stopped a staffer as she walked by.

"Æsa, go to the kitchen. I don't care what we have, dress it up in the main conference room so it looks like the King himself's coming by for a visit."

The girl nodded, heading off as Þorleik sighed, looking back at Jakob.
"If Nero's coming here it won't be a bad idea to remind him of what he's losing if he steps out of line."

---

*KPLH- Royal Prydanian Army

Dark Phoenix by Hans Zimmer, 12:32

July 20th, 2022, 9:00 PM outside of Suavidicum.

Sukran Neftci stood at the door to the Villa of the head of the Ferra Custodia. He had once been named Flavius Gladian Brutus, however in order to feel as if he is honoring the ancient Kyllians that he claims to possess him, he chose the new name Vicitix. The Aydini ambassador was invited into the mountainside villa and was given the tour by the Legate himself. Victirx was making small talk, until the two men passed a large room. The Aydini looked at the Legate. Victirix was wearing a toga, a laurel crown, and wore red face makeup. Victirx’s extravagance was further shown by the silver scepter that he carried with him through the villa. The Aydini ambassador finally spoke up.

“Victirx, what is the purpose of this room?”

There was a pause while the Legate turned to look at the ambassador, the Legate had an unperturbed face as he took a deep breath to speak. Finally the Legate said:

“This my friend, is the room where my compatriots and I are trying to use arcane rituals to open a door to the ancient homeland of the Kyllian peoples. It is a land far to the north, protected from the lesser beings of the world by northern winds. This paradise land was where all Kyllian peoples came from, unfortunately the siblings that would become the founders of each major Kyllian state were forced out by Deus in order to conquer the world. My organization looks to open a portal to these lands to discover the ancient super technology that will allow us to complete this task. This land is named Elysia”

The Aydini ambassador stood for a moment and collected his thoughts. It was as if he was trying to find the right words to say. When finally he responded:

“A noble effort for a glorious people!”

He took a breath before continuing.

“As a Kyllian myself, and despite some members of my government not agreeing with my position I fully support the endeavor.”

This caused Victrix to stand, he had an almost offended look on his face. Moments went by before the leader of the FG roared back at the man.

“How dare you claim to be Kyllian, the Aydini have never and will never be a part of our great race! I expected more, now sir please we must retire to the dining room in order to discuss the ideology of the National popular movement!”

Sukran Neftci smirked, nodding his head. "I see."
The Ambassador then turned in the hall and made his way to the exit.

"Well then I shall wish you all a good night. As it seems my kind is not welcome in this place." As he walked to the room's exit, over his shoulder he would say. "I hope for a quick end to the war, friends. For all your sakes."

“I see the weaker men can’t handle our glorious ideology, go. The true glory of National populism is too much for your feeble mind. Tell your boy Sultan that soon the crown of the Imperium Augustum will be returned to the correct peoples. There is nothing your Syrixian boot licking people can do to stop us. The ride of Amazones will come from Elysia and this world will fall to those who were made to take it.”

Victrix slammed the door to his Villa behind the Aydini. Then made his way to the portal room where there were several members of the FG awaiting him.

“Gentlemen, prepare for the ritual.”

---

https://youtu.be/k1-TrAvp_xs > please listen while reading the above part.

---

Made with help by @Greater Ale Permars

10:30 pm
20 July 2022
Presidential Palace
Siloyev, Arcanstotska

“We’ll be ready in just a moment, Your Excellency!” Sidorov nodded.
The cameras were almost ready.

Sidorov took a sip of his water. His wife had compelled him to give up smoking as a means of stress relief but there were certainly times when he wished he hadn’t agreed.
Now was certainly one of those times.

He humored no illusions in regard to this situation. People’s lives were on the line.

“Are you ready, Excellency?” Sidorov nodded.
The cameras were ready to go. The cameraman gave the countdown.
5… 4… 3… 2…
Sidorov met the camera lens with his eyes, appearing calm, serious, and collected so that those watching might feel the same.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my fellow citizens,

“For the past two weeks, the continent of Auroria has been engulfed in chaos. A military coup in the Suavidici Empire has been launched by a cabal of men hellbent on inflicting as much suffering upon as great a many people as possible. These men, following their leader Nero’s commands, on the fifteenth of this month – a mere five days ago – stormed our nation’s embassy in the capital city of that empire. There they killed the soldiers assigned to keep the embassy safe and took the embassy workers, diplomatic staff, and our ambassador as hostages.

“Rest assured, it is to be the non-negotiable policy of this government that every single hostage is brought home alive. Should Nero and his posse harm, violate, or execute any one of the hostages then this government, along with our friends and allies abroad, shall move to take action against that cabal of military officers who so vehemently demand that suffering be inflicted on their perceived opponents and that madness be the order of the day.

“Right now, the foreign minister, gospozha* Danikina, as well as an assembled team of diplomats, are in the imperial capital of Suvadikhiya*, in the Pridanskiy embassy, to negotiate for the safe return of each and every soul taken captive, the return of the bodies of those who have perished, and that those who have seized control immediately cease their violent persecution of those they deem to be lesser than themselves.

“I want the people of our country to understand the situation as much as possible. But I would also do well to ask that we, as a nation, approach this situation with calm, rational determination. In the days to come our national will, our courage, and our maturity will be tested. But let the world behold that the Arcanstotskan people shall rise to meet such tests. I promise, both to the Arcanstotskan people and the world at large, that this government will never cease to defend the security, honor, and freedom of Arcanstotskans wherever they may be. Nero and his lakei* will try to intimidate us — that is why they stormed our embassy. But we must remind ourselves and those around us that we cannot and shall not be intimidated by mere power-hungry thuggish brutes who have forsaken any notion of mutual respect and civility necessary in the conduct of nations.

“This nation, our Second Republic that has stood to guard the freedoms of its citizens for almost two centuries, will never yield to blackmail. For all Arcanstotskans, our concern is the well-being and safety of our fellow citizens who have been illegally taken hostage.

“Here tonight, I make this sworn pledge to the Arcanstotskan people and to the world that we will see our fellow citizens brought home safe and sound.

“Thank you all. Long live democracy and long live the Second Arcanstotskan Republic.”

---

gospozha = madam
Suvadikhiya = can mean either Suavidicum the city or Suavidici the nation
Pridanskiy = Prydanian
lakei = flunkies, lackeys, goons

Content warning: This post covers topics that can be triggering for some.

July 17th 2022
“Little Palmyra” Suavidicum


The APC was cramped, sweaty, and everyone’s face was somber. There was not the usual shooting the shit between the members of the maniple. One of the guys was praying in the corner of the vehicle. Marcus was thinking to himself, it wasn’t about the orders, it wasn’t preparing himself for the horbile thing that he was about to do. He couldn’t get over the damned fluorescent light. It made the already depressing ride worse.

Finally the vehicle came to an abrupt stop. The centurion yelled out to the men, he didn’t have to but it was customary at this point. Getting out of a vehicle was easy enough, it was just what came next that Marcus dreaded.

The centurion kept yelling:

“Go inside, clear out the house! Bring the rats to me!”

So Marcus and his compatriots did, they went from house to house in a one block radius. Fathers and older brothers were to be dragged out, daughters and mothers were to be dealt with according to the individual legionaries discretion. This ambiguity led legionaries to abuse these women, and girls. It was disgusting, made Marcus’ stomach drop when he saw a legionary caught with his pants down.

Marcus drew his weapon and pointed it at his compatriot, and yelled:

“Put her down, this isn’t part of the mission.”
“Orders were that mothers and daughters were to be dealt with at our discretion, my discretion is that this one is pretty. I like that.” The other legionary said, not losing his focus on the young Arconstoskan girl.

“She is a citizen of the Imperium and protected by its laws, let her go. I’m placing you under arrest!” Marcus said his rifle shaking

The other legionary finally complied, as he put his pants back on and walked past Marcus. While passing he said:

“New law was enacted by the Dominus today, everyone of Arcanstoskan heritage is no longer eligible for Suavidici citizenship and is not protected by its laws.

Marcus ran over to the woman, he took a blanket out of his pack and put it around her. The two made their way to a place for her to hide, Marcus left to go back to the formation but not before saying in broken Arcastoskan:

“Stay here and stay hidden.”

Marcus came out and got into formation. The men from the area were loaded onto trucks and driven off. The legionaries waited for the centurion to dismiss them. He was waiting at the head of the formation when he said:

“Marcus to the front.”

Marcus made his way to the front, staying composed as he did. When he arrived the centurion looked at him and then made a motion with his hands. Marcus was hit in the stomach with a rifle and was forced to the ground.

“You want to save these rats?! Do you soldier, well I’ll show you what happens to the rats and those that help them!”

The woman was dragged out, and bound. The legionaries waited until they were given another order and the centurion obliged them.

“Have your fun boys.”

The soldiers began taking their turns abusing the woman, Marcus was forced to watch. When it was all over the woman was left, the keys to her bounds thrown on the ground by her. Marcus was placed under arrest and moved to a military prison.

In the truck that was transporting him, Marcus was able to overhear a conversation between two captured intelligence officers.

“The Second has begun to march west. Legate Arulian isn’t happy about this.”

Marcus slid over to the pair and asked:

“Isn’t the prison that we are going to on the route from where the second was stationed?”

July 20th 2022
Via Appia, 40 km East of Suavidicum


Legate Arulian was at his command point, he knew that Nero would be awaiting him at the next few junctions on the road, there were several communities along the road that could serve as forward command locations for a possible HQ unit. Arulian had to plan his next moves carefully, his legion was an armored one. Urban warfare would prove to be a challenge, and Suavidicum is a massive city.

A recon platoon of three L-1197’s was sent, each carrying six men who can dismount and two who could not. The three Manipulus Centurions were in communication as their vehicles drove at top speed down the highway. They were briefed that Nero would be likely waiting, but the plan of attack was made and the men knew what they had to do. When the men reached the suburb of Orienvigilia they dismounted and began to work on making a command post. The town hall was occupied and the main Centurion sent in a radio call back to L. Arulian:

“Sir, we have made a command post in the town hall, do not advance until we have been able to secure the main road in.”

As he finished his sentence an explosion rocked the building. The Centurion ran out of the building to assess the situation. Nero had sent what appeared to be a platoon of his own L-1197’s and they were using their onboard mortars to shell the town hall.

Civilians were standing out on balconies, or just outside their front door. They seemed shocked to hear live fire around them, some even looked more shocked that smoke was coming out of their town hall. The centuries old building stood despite the shelling, and the legionaries moved to prepare for attack. The Anti-Nero forces began to return fire from their recon vehicles, now civilians ran back inside, screams were heard all over the town. The small arms began to fire as both sides made half hearted attacks. They moved back to their vehicles and drove in their separate directions. No casualties were suffered and the most damage was done to the old town hall.

When the recon team from the second legion returned back to camp the centurion was brought to Legate Arulian. The Legate looked concerned and asked for a debrief on what happened. The Centurion happily replied.

---

July 20th 2022,
Imperial Broadcast agency, Sauvidicum

“Friends, Suavidici, countrymen lend me your ears. I am Claudius Maximus and this is your evening news.”

Claudius took a pause to let the dramatic flair set in.

“There was a firefight along the Via Appia, Dominus Nero reports no casualties on the loyalist side, however the traitors of the second legion have been pushed back. The Dominus is reporting fifty dead traitors.”

“There are reports of several other legions in the east rising up in rebellion. The Dominus says that everything is under control. The loyalist forces will be successful.”

July 17th, 9pm Suavidicum
Old Senate House


Nero stood in the old senate building, he was holding a joint statement by the ambassadors to the Imperium. His face was contorted with anger as he began to speak to the crowd. The members of the joint committee of the party of Iron, as Nero’s movement was called, waited for their leader to give them his new commands.

“The enemies of our national movement are plentiful and growing. I hold in my hands a document, written by the so-called partners of the Imperium. I see this as not a partnership, more like a direct attempt to control the lands within our beloved Imperium. These are but more attempts to humiliate us, but I can see our enemies weakness. As we have seen, even the most elite of our enemies can not stand the might of the Umbiral peoples, a mob of the civilians of Suavidicum and the brave men of the third legion stormed the embassy of Arcanstotska and took the vipers that dwell there. Our enemies can not stop us! If we just keep the pressure up, our dream of the national movement will be realized! I shall use whatever I can to secure recognition on the international stage, mark my words! The world shall feel our might!”
The Dominus stood for a moment as the cheers and applause echoed through the room. The “Ave” chant could be heard louder and louder as the Dominus walked through the crowd. The Ferra Custodia opened the large dark oak doors and he moved to his office.

“Now to call the damned Arcanstotskans.”

The Dominus reached for his phone, only to pause. He instead moved over to his stash of drugs, the ones he had taken before the speech were wearing off. He couldn’t take the chance to not be on his game when dealing with the enemy.

He punched in the numbers for the Suavidici embassy in Siloyev. When the Ambassador answered he quickly said:

“Get me their president, now.”

---

July 18th, 2022, Prydanian Embassy
Suavidicum

Þorleik Breivik poured another glass of Toki’s and dropped some ice into it before sipping. The sounds of boots moving to and from was constant now as the Knights of the Storm contingent had finished barricading the building. Now they were taking up positions.

Initiating siege protocols was one thing- but Nero was coming here. The Prydanian government had arranged with Nero’s to use the Prydanian embassy as a neutral site to negotiate with the Arcanstotskans. Now they had to manage letting in some of the very people they were ready to keep out.

“Býkonsviði’s orders,” he muttered half to himself and half to Major Jakob Hoem.
“We don’t hand over the girl,” he said.

“Then you need to get her safe. You need to get her into a safe room with some Knights. At least as long as Nero’s men are in the building.”

“Do you think he’ll try anything?”

“I’m tempted to say no,” Jakob replied.
“But,” he added, “he’s stormed one embassy already. We can’t be too certain about anything.”

Þorleik nodded and sipped his pop.

“Anything else from Býkonsviði?” the Major asked.

“A long list of things to tell Nero off about if he starts spouting demands.”

“What kind of demands?”

“All of them,” Þorleik replied.
“The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was very thorough the last time we talked,” he said, holding up a legal pad covered in his sloppy handwriting.

“Are you ready?” Jakob asked, feeling his nerves tense up a bit.

“I’m a diplomat,” Þorleik replied.
“I can handle people.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be doing my job,” Jakob replied as he leaned forward just a bit, “if I didn’t tell you this.”

“Tell me what?”

“Nero’s a lot of things, but he’s a military man. Like I am. He’s going to have very little time for bullshit and diplomatic niceties. Whatever you tell him, be blunt. Stare him down. We are, when it comes to things like this, trained to be wolves. So you have to be a wolf too.”

“And that’s not going to end with him storming us next?” Þorleik asked with a resigned chuckle.

“If he’s going to do that then he’s going to make up his mind on that regardless of what you do. Just be firm, stick to what Býkonsviði wants. We’re here to be a neutral third party. If he demands refugees be handed over, tell him no. If he demands oversight over our embassy, tell him no. If he demands recognition, tell him the Ministry is still analyzing the situation. And if he pushes, don’t budge.”

Þorleik nodded again, sipping more pop as Jakob stood up.
“One more thing, Þor.”

“Já?”

“Straighten your tie and put on a sports jacket. You’re meeting the self-proclaimed Dominus of the Imperium. And you presently look like a Goyanean salary man who’s gotten off work at 3 am.”

Þorleik chuckled again, this time more livelier than the last chuckle.
“It’s been a long couple of days.”

“It has. Get ready. I’ll talk to Boger about protocol for the Knights when Nero’s people get here.”

---

July 19th 2022
Outside the Prydianian Embassy
Suavidicum

Nero was waiting to dismount from his limo, there were legionaries from his third legion in formation in front of him. This maneuver had been a careful calculation on the part of his military advisors. Not only to show that the Imperium still possessed an active and ready force, but to intimidate before negotiation.

Conversations with the Arcastoskans had broken down. Nero and President Siderov had resulted in a screaming match where neither side would budge. The Dominus wanted full recognition of his government as legitimate, the Arcastoskans were unwilling and wanted to get their diplomats back. In came the Prydanians, they were a nation that was not in the game of great power politics, and had friendly relations with both sides. They could tend to the flames of both sides.
As Nero stepped out of his vehicle, the first thing that he saw was his current National defense minister, and long time friend Fracilius kneeling. Nero walked over to the man and said.

“Rise my friend.”

Fraculius stood and the pair began walking over to the Prydanians.

“Our recognition will be done on schedule.” Fracilius said as the duo walked.

“You have done well Mashal Fracilius, and now I sense that you wish to continue your search for the senators.” Nero said, while still looking forward at the Prydanians as the two approached.

“Yes my Dominus.” The Marshal said, shocked that Nero could read what he was thinking.

“Patience my friend, in time they will search us out. And when they do, you must wait for me. They are growing strong, only together can we defeat them!” Nero said, looking over to his Marshal.

“As you wish.” The Marshal said, in an almost defeated tone. His potential dreams of singular glory shattering in front of his eyes.

“Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.”

Nero laughed as the duo reached the Prydanians.The Dominus held out his hand as he came to the barricade. He looked at the guards and said:

“I am here for an audience with the Prydanian Ambassador.”

---

---

“A limo, Jægdar help me,” Þorleik muttered seeing the vehicle. He wasn’t sure what he expected. A tank? That would be utterly ridiculous but for a military man like Nero… a limo just seemed like a statement.

“The Knights of the Storm won’t be intimidated, don’t worry,” Solveig Boger whispered.

“Well it doesn’t matter now. If this goes sideways we’re all dead anyway,” Þorleik replied. Both Solveig and Major Hoem gave him a look and he just shrugged.

“Try to find some dark humour in the situation,” Þorleik added.
“We’re passing the Stór now.”

“He’s kneeling,” Solveig added, as they watched Fraculius kneeling before Nero.
“The only person I’ve knelt to is…”
“Já,” Þorleik muttered. Solveig was a Knight of the Storm, and that name was literal. To be a Knight of the Storm meant being a Knight. The only person she’d knelt to was the King, when he initiated her into the order. And now Nero’s subordinates were kneeling to him. Like he was the Imperator. The message was clear. They weren’t dealing with a provisional government or some other temporary holder of state power. Nero was understood to be the equal to the sovereign of the Imperium.

Nero and Fraculius approached. And the Dominus held out his hand. The Knights of the Storm that flanked the Prydanian ambassador and his advisors just stood there. Professionally. Stoically. After a moment Þorleik extended his own hand, shaking Nero’s and giving a disarming smile.

“Domiunus,” he said in accented but still clear Suavidici. “My name is Þorleik Breivik, Ambassador to the Imperium Suavidici on behalf of the Kingdom of Prydania. Welcome. I’m hopeful we can find some common ground.”

He motioned to Jakob.
“Major Jakob Hoem, of the Royal Prydanian Army, my military attache,” he added.
“And this is Captain Solveig Boger of the Knights of the Storm, head of embassy security.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dominus,” Jakob replied. He kept his expression cool, and his voice sounding firm. He wanted Nero to find some sense that there were military men here who he could understand. It might make him more pliable.

“Let’s begin then,” Þorleik added, as he stepped aside.
“After you Dominus. The Knights will see you to the conference room.”

---

Made with help from @Prydiania

---

https://youtu.be/r3MLQhWCgN0?t=30 (listen for the above part)

---

Philip stood out on his balcony, he had served as an officer in the legions for his entire adult life. But there was something that was calling out to him, something more than the life of a merger officer. Perhaps today, maybe today was the day. He thought back to that day in july.

The coup in Suavidicum had shocked the military apparatus, Nero was an excellent military administrator his rank showed that. His coup also showed his ability to work with people who agreed with him. But there was always one thing Nero overlooked, Nero couldn’t comprehend those who did not think like him. Not being able to comprehend those that did not think like Nero was something that Nero was vexed by, and it was what men like Legate Arulian had used in order to start a rebellion.

There was rustling from the bed as Philips' husband woke up. The men exchanged a smile as they got ready for the day. Alexander was always that reminder, the reminder of what all this fighting was about. This vote of the heads of the Epiphan families that was happening today, it was not just a vote on fighting Nero, it was a vote on the soul of the Epiphan people.

Philip, despite being in his forties, was the head of the long standing Heraclian dynasty. Philips' mind was focusing on the meeting later, when Alexander spoke up.

“Your brother and his family are coming over later, I’m sure that he’ll be making all of his opinions known before you cast your vote.”

Philip hated the tone that Alexander used when he talked about Basil, he understood why but Philip couldn’t help but see Basil like when they were kids. Basil was his younger brother, they had played together, they had fought together and they had always been there for eachother. That was, until their father died.

There was a knock at the door and Basil and his wife walked in. Philip could hear every step they took across the marble floors, Alexander looked uneasy, almost scared as he and Philip walked down the stairs.

“Basil, it’s good to see you! I thought I’d see you today when you heard about the vote! What is it that you want to talk abou-.”

“Philip, stop with the pleasantries. You know why I am here, you can’t push for separation. Nero will come up here and destroy our very way of life! I know what you’re thinking, the fifth legion can not protect us against the power of Suavidicum!”

“I will vote in the best interest of house Heralclian as I always do! Why is it that you always feel the need to tell me how to vote? When I die you will be the head of the dynasty, or would you rather have one of our uncles or cousins have it?”

Philip maintained a smile as he looked at his brother, Basil was clearly done with what he saw as the paternalistic nature of his brother. His face got red as he made his body bigger.

“You can’t keep acting like I don’t have a right as a member of this family! I am keeping this family alive, meanwhile you’re going to waste your position with this boy toy! Fuck you Philip! Just you wait until I have my moment. You’ll see!”

Basil stormed out. His wife followed him, not after saying hi to Philip and Alexander. Basil and his wife entered the car and the duo began to drive off. Philip continued to get ready for his day, the meeting was going to take place at the great temple of Maria.

The drive up was tense, Alexander was holding Philip’s hand. The duo had been through the highs and lows of life, this moment scared Alexander though. Alexander’s father was the head of the house of Doukid, and he was against his oldest son not producing an heir. Alexander’s father liked Philip, but was upset that the house of Doukid’s succsession was up in the air.

When the car arrived at the temple Philip walked out and went into the building, the building was a massive domed complex where the priestesses of Maria did their duties. The temple was cleared of the priestesses, and the heads of all the families of Epiphani were gathered for the vote.

Philip, as the leading military figure of this meeting, stood and began the proceedings.

“Gentlemen, we are gathered to vote on the future of our people. On the path that we must guide them on. As we have seen, Suavidicum has been attacked and the Imperator is either dead or a puppet of Nero. Nero is a man that I have known for many years, he is a cold man who demands submission. He will come for us and take our people and our livelihoods. This is unless we move to defend our lands and stop this monster from destroying us. Legions in the south have moved against them, if we muster the fifth then maybe we can aid in taking Suavidicum and-”

Philip saw one of the other men stand with his hand outstretched, a sign that the body had heard enough.

“Philip, you may be the youngest among us, but that youthful fire has shown to be great through your career. We had spoken before your arrival and we decided that you shall lead us through this crisis. Not as a member of the Imperium, but as the king of an independent Epiphani. The southerners have taken us through war after war, for the glory of their Suavidici Imperator. We have followed, but it is time that we act as our own men. This is why we have chosen you to be king, you and your husband. The great houses are behind you, now go make us proud. “

Philip fell back into his chair, the room was spinning. He had sworn oaths to the Imperium and Imperator, he couldn’t just betray all of that could he? Alexander, mom. These thoughts came to his mind immediately, they had to be protected from Nero. He had to act.

“I accept the call.” He said quietly.

The crowd leaned in, in bated breath. If he decided to stay loyal, all of them had committed treason.

“I ACCEPT THE CALL!” Philip yelled as he stood.

Philip felt some sort of power flow over him, was it the temple that he was in? It must have been DEUS himself coming down and giving Philip some sort of notice that Philip’s time was here. The priests used to tell of these moments, when a man was blessed to do great things. Philip would do as his god intended.

The bells all over Megalantium rang out as the Epiphan news all over the territory announced the heads of the great houses had crowned a king. There was also a notice of a general call to arms to defend the new kingdom. When Nero came, they would be ready.

---

Senator Lucius had gotten several Legates on board with a general civil war to free the Imperium; there was now a massive issue sprouting in the north, that being the rise of the new Epiphan kingdom. This kingdom brought with it the 7th legion, a legion adept at fighting in mountains.

Lucius had entered the territory of the new kingdom and had requested an audience with the king, a former Legate named Philip. Philip now styled himself as Philip I, the king of the Epiphans and the chosen son of DEUS. A claim that would not be allowed to continue when the civil war was over. But Lucius needed allies, and there was no better place to turn than a man with an army.

The senator was given an audience with the king, the trappings of power had clearly gotten into Philip's mind. He had blue eye shadow, with black mascara, in the ancient tradition of the Epiphan. He was lounging while being fed grapes by both men and women in white robes. It was something out of the ancient world.

“Your grace, I am here to remind you of your oath you kept to the Imperator of Suiavdicum.”

Lucius said in a defiant tone, not wanting to be intimidated by some upstart. Lucius kept reminding himself, who is this upstart to claim to be king. I have served as a member of the Imperial senate for-.

“Your Imperator is dead, I have not sworn an oath to this Nero. Nor have I sworn an oath to the successor. Senator, I hope you have something else to say other than this, otherwise I think that I’ll have my men see you to the door.” Philip said with a smirk.

“No, no. I am sorry your majesty, I let my frustration get the better of me. I came to ask for your assistance in liberating ou- my homeland. The tyrant Nero is trying to destroy the progress the last two thousand years have brought.” Lucius said with a bow.

“I’m sorry Senator. It is not our fight, we will not march south. When Nero attacks we will push him back, until then… I can only say good luck.” Philip said, still smirking.

“As it were then.” Lucius said as he was leaving.

Lucius was mad, but there was a silver lining. Due to the Epiphani, Nero would have to send forces to the north to deal with them. The loss of critical men meant it was easier for the loyalist forces to attack towards Suavidicum.

Lucius did need to tell the Legates that were assembled in Neoconstina that aid from Megalantium was not to be expected. The news was bad, but a war needed to be fought and won.

2:10 am
19 July 2022
Suavidicum International Airport
Imperium Suavidici

“Attention Minister Danikina and passengers,” the pilot’s voice came in over the intercom. “We are approaching Suavidicum International Airport. Please be seated at once.”

Natasha Danikina, Arcanstotska’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, took her seat and buckled in. As did the other staff. Natasha looked out the window of the government airliner, watching the city lights twinkle below as the plane approached. It was so strange; how normal things looked given the circumstances. The popping in the ears came and went as the planet made its final descent down the runway, coming to a full stop.

Natasha released a breath of relief. The Third Legion hadn’t shot them down. She’d been reassured that Nero had agreed not to shoot her plane down before she came aboard, but she had still withheld her doubts. But the question still remained as to whether she’d manage to leave Suavidicum alive.

No diplomatic pomp and circumstance when she and her staff came out of the plane and down the steps. Just a bunch of Knights of the Storm to hurry them into diplomatic vans.

“Good morning, Minister Danikina. Welcome to Suavidicum.” The lead Knight spoke in Mercanti and gave a slight nod as his men went to help the Arcanstotskans climb into the vans with haste. “I wish this were under better circumstances, Minister, but there is no time to waste. We are being watched by Third Legion soldiers and Nero’s paramilitaries. We must get back to the embassy as quickly as we can.”
Natasha just nodded and climbed inside the vehicle, alongside some other officials and a couple of Prydanian Knights.

The drive to the embassy was uneasy. The whole way, Natasha could see empty streets, save for armed thugs and Third Legion soldiers. Armored vehicles replaced cabs, buses, and cars. There were even dead bodies in some alleyways—probably whatever “enemies of the state” Nero’s posse had managed to get their hands on. At least their suffering was over now.
“Gods above, deliver us.” She whispered a soft prayer.

The convoy of vans pulled up to the Prydanian embassy’s front gate and a Knight hurriedly let them through. The Knights looked like they were bracing for a fight.

“Ambassador Breivik, it’s good to see you.” Danikina offered a smile, a small nicety to warm the ice. She’d learned to hide her Arcanstotskan accented Mercanti well over the years.

“Minister Danikina,” Þorleik said with a smile, though clearly nervous. Realistically there was little that could be done if Nero’s men had decided to invade the embassy. The Knights of the Storm would run out of ammunition eventually. Even knowing that though, he felt infinitely safer inside than he did outside. He’d lived through the Syndicalists after all. And Nero’s men gave him the same feeling the People’s Militia did.

“I’m happy to see you too, alive and well.” He didn’t think for a moment that Nero’s forces were beyond shooting them down or even attacking their Knights and their guests on the way from the airport. Speaking of Nero… the fact that he was inside… well… it meant that being outside away from him actually provided one advantage.

“The situation is worsening,” he said in Arcanstotskan as he leaned in. His Prydanian accent was noticeable but he was otherwise fluent in it.

“Nero is here to negotiate. We’ll do what we can, but the Imperium is coming apart as we speak. Expect a lot of bluster, but remain calm and we’ll get you through this. We have a woman of Arcanstotskan heritage we saved from them already.”

He sighed and tried to push away everything he was feeling- fear, anger, uncertainty, and just focus on the immediate task at hand.

“Come with me, Minister,” he said cheerfully in Mercanti as he turned to lead Danikina and her staff in.

As he did he received a note from Captain Boger. He glanced at it and tucked it away in the inside pocket of his sports jacket. The Huntsmen’s Corps, disguised as additional embassy security through the Knights of the Storm, would be arriving soon.

“I’d like to speak with her as soon as the negotiations are over. As for Nero, whether thousands live or die depends on how friendly he wants to be…” she said ominously as she led the Arcanstotskan delegation into the room. Her exchange with the ambassador had gone down to a whisper beneath the murmuring of the room. “We can worry about a proper response to the unfolding crisis after we get these hostages back. Have there been any other refugees?”

“We’ve gotten reports from other consulates,” Þorleik replied in a whisper.
“We’re attempting to coordinate with our consulates in other cities, and other embassies here, to get an accurate count.”

Þorleik suddenly went quiet as they approached the conference room. It was done up in the style one might expect a smoking room in a Prydanian hunting lodge might look like- wood paneled walls and a few paintings of pristine Prydanian nature scenes, with a heavy oaken conference table. And at the head of that table? Nero…

Þorleik looked over at Natasha and gave her a worried look before stealing himself. One of the Knights of the Storm opened the door to the conference room and he entered.

“Dominus Nero,” he announced.
“I present Natasha Danikina, Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Arcanstotskan Republic.”

OOC Note: co-written with @Arc

7:00am
12 July 2022
Prydianian Embassy
Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici


The Dominus stood up, and waved in the Arcastotskans his graying hair and steel blue eyes pierced the room as he stared down the woman who was presented to him. He laughed internally as the woman walked in, who was she? The Dominus was a mighty war chief, he had at his disposal one of the mightiest militaries on the planet, and the Arcanstostkans sent someone who had never seen live fire before.

“I would be honored if you would join me.” Nero said, his voice low and raspy.

Nero’s uniform was crisp, his many medals were made even more prominent in contrast with the black of the uniform. He had been preparing since the storming of the Arcanstotskan embassy for this moment; the entire future of the movement relied on a victory in this diplomatic battle.

“Now, Ms. Danikina, I have a number of your associates. I stress that they are currently unharmed, and I know you want them back. I can provide them to you, all I would need to do is call my centurion. The safe release of these men and women is contingent on your government, I want my rule recognized by your government. I want it done quickly and in writing, I prepared a document for you to sign on your government's behalf. I will give you time to think, but you have until six PM Suavidicum time to get me an answer.”

Nero slid the paper across the table and then leaned back in his chair. A smug look crept up on his face. Checkmate rat. The Dominus was convinced that he had won, but that bravado quickly disappeared as the Arcanstotskan diplomat showed little fear.

Danikina glimpsed at the document given to her. This sheet of paper was like a carrot being dangled in front of her face; a temptation nudging her into where Nero wanted her and her government. It was the key to the hostages' safety—a trap eager to ensnare a nation.

She looked up from the document, meeting Nero in his eyes. "The Arcanstotskan Republic cannot offer diplomatic recognition at the present moment. We need Arcanstotskan officials to be sent to verify, in person, that the hostages are alive and unharmed as you say."

“I have pictures to show that they are fine. But I assure you, defiance will be met and dealt with in a manner I have deemed fit. You will call your government, or I will have my men make an example of what happens when a dog steps out of line!”

Nero sat back in his chair, his face was red with anger.

I lost my cool, I can’t let this bitch get into my head. I need to calm down, I need to beat them at their own game. I am the embodiment of ancient legionaries brought back to bring the Imperium to a new golden age, I need to be able to beat this diplomat, I need this document signed.

"Pictures can be forged," the foreign minister stated plainly. "And this is hardly appropriate conduct for diplomacy; threatening a foreign representative. You're not making a very good first impression on the international community."

“If you can not give me what I want then I think we are at an impasse here Ms.Danikina, I will be keeping your associates. I actually have something I need to sign… It involves your friends, the spies that we took when we stormed the embassy. I have their death warrant right here, if I sign this then it will all be over. So, let's talk about this recognition here.”


"My government insists that Arcanstotskan representatives verify the safety of the hostages in person," Danikina pressed her point. "We will not press forward with negotiations until we have a clean confirmation that they are alive and unharmed."

“Then madam representative there is nothing more for us to talk about. I will take my leave but I want you to know, when you leave what you see will be your fault.”

---

Nero stood and walked out of the room. As he walked down the hall he pulled out his phone and sent a message to his commander on the outside. Several vans pulled up to the embassy and the Arcanstotskan prisoners were pushed out. On every block from the diplomatic quarter to the airport an Arcanstotskan diplomat or embassy employee was crucified, a sign was placed around their neck which read:

“I am an enemy of the Imperium, and I am guilty of espionage.”

Nero had sent his message, he was playing by his rules and the world would need to choose what to do about him.

---

Danikina and her entourage left the Prydanian embassy empty-handed. She had followed her government's orders; she had pushed for Republic representatives to confirm the hostages' safety. It failed, much to her frustration. The Arcanstotskan delegates piled back into the diplomatic vans before heading back out into the streets of Suavidicum, for the airport.

Danikina pulled out her phone and dialed Siloyev. "Minister? Were the negotiations successful?" President Sidorov Kolibin was on the other side of the line. Danikina sighed.

"Unfortunately not, Your Excellency. Negotiations barely got off of the ground before Nero shut things down. He's no talker-"

That's when she saw the first posts and the bodies mounted on them. Her eyes went wide and her brows furrowed. "Minister? Minister Danikina, are you still there?"

"They crucified them," Danikina mumbled in shock. "By the gods, they've crucified them..." "What?" Sidorov sounded confused, in disbelief.

"What do you mean?" "Your Excellency," Danikina spoke more clear and direct, though with a tremor in her voice. "Nero's crucifying the embassy personnel!" Sidorov went silent. "By the gods..."

Carrier strike group to be deployed to Suavidici waters, naval blockade announced by HM Government
1 August 2022

In a significant development in the ongoing conflict between the Dominus regime and loyalist forces within the Imperium Suavidici, HM Government has announced the deployment of a carrier strike group to northern Auroria to enforce a blockade against Nero's regime.

The fleet, consisting of several warships and support vessels, all lead by the aircraft carrier ZMS Friederich I, departed from their home port in Laikenkirk early this morning and is expected to arrive at their destination in a few days. The deployment comes amid reports of the Dominus regime committing human rights violations against ethnic minorities within the Imperium and committing atrocities against civilians, all while attempting to suppress the loyalist Imperial forces fighting against them and threatening regional stability in Auroria.

Speaking at a press conference, the Minister of Defence Killian Schweartebeorstien emphasized the importance of upholding the blockade and holding the regime accountable for their actions. "We cannot allow this aggressive regime to continue its violent campaign against their own countrymen, breach human rights, and harm innocent civilians. This deployment serves as a clear message that we will not tolerate such behaviour."

The warships in the strike group are equipped with advanced technology and weaponry, including state-of-the-art missile defence systems and specialized boarding teams trained to intercept and inspect suspect vessels. Additionally, the ships are carrying a complement of highly trained sailors and naval infantry, who will be ready to respond to any situation that may arise.

While the exact details of the deployment have not been disclosed, sources indicate that the fleet will be conducting a series of patrols and inspections aimed at detecting and intercepting any vessels attempting to reach territorial waters to provide support to the regime. This will involve coordination with loyalist Imperial vessels and other allied navies in the region, as well as cooperation in enforcing the blockade.

The deployment has been met with mixed reactions, with some critics arguing that it could escalate tensions in the region and potentially lead to an escalation of the conflict. Others, however, have praised the move as a necessary step to hold the Dominus regime accountable for their human rights violations and to support the loyalist Imperial forces.

Regardless of the response, it is clear that the deployment of the carrier strike group marks a significant development in the ongoing conflict, as it increases pressure on the Dominus regime and could potentially provide the loyalist forces with an advantage. The international community will be closely monitoring the situation as the fleet carries out its mission, with particular attention to the fighting within the Imperium and the Dominus regime's human rights record.

---

OCC note: Approved by @Ianmey7 prior to posting

Dioclese was a chariot racer before Nero launched his coup, the sport had been around since the founding of the Imperium and his family had been known for their success. Dioclese was something special, he was well on his way to becoming one of the greatest racers in the sports history. That was, until the killings started. When Dioclese heard that Arcanstoskans were being killed, he quickly ran to the east to join up with the legions that were openly opposing Nero. That was, until he ran into a group that was fighting within the supposed zone of control of Nero. They called themselves Vindex, they had been running hit and run attacks on Nero’s supply lines.

For weeks now Dioclese had served as a propaganda poster boy, they had used his voice and his image to show that even the most loved people in society are against Nero’s tyranny. The propaganda campaign was wildly successful, protests had begun in cities that Nero would have considered safe. Recruits also surged east, swelling the rebelling legions, and the Vindex as well.

Dioclese was sent on a mission to ambush a supply truck that was going to reinforce the fifth legion stationed at the developing front line. The truck was rolling by, the rain had been coming down for hours. The mud was becoming deeper and deeper, but Dioclese fought to keep his rifle out of the brown pool. The heavy weapons operator fired his G-67, and the rest of the fire team braced to fire at the troop carrier. The back door opened and the legionaries began to flow out. The cannon on top of the troop carrier began to fire where the rocket came from. In that moment the second fire team launched their rocket, it hit the troop carrier and knocked the cannon out of commission. The ambush had done its job, Nero’s supply convoy was destroyed with minimal casualties to the Vindex*.

The fireteams melted back into the countryside, and Dioclese’s group moved to a bar run by a Vindex member. The town itself shows no love to Nero’s reign, so the Vindex felt safe to let loose after their engagements. Dioclese tried to keep a low profile whenever he was in a town or city though, fame has a way of turning people into a magnet for posts. Dioclese sat in the corner of the bar and waited for his typical order, a Prydanian beer, Gull, a stein. Dioclese noticed a woman sitting across the bar, it was typical for women to follow the soldiers, men who didn’t know if they were going to live another day paid handsomely for one last fun night.

This woman walked over to Dioclese, sat on his lap and started working her magic.

“I’ve always been a fan of athletes. But I have to admit, I’m a little starstruck.” The Woman whispered in his ear.

“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m always happy to meet a fan. But I think you don’t know what starstruck means when you’re sitting on my lap.” Dioclese responded quickly.

“Well, you might be right. But I can see you’re standing at attention, soldier.” She laughed as she pulled back from Dioclese.

“But I’m not even…”

Singing started in the bar, a few of the guys in the corner started playing the mandolin. There was a Predician song that worked for the group, it’s called “Bella Ciao”. The Vindex enjoyed their victory, and like the Predician Partigiano they worked to free their homeland from tyranny. The song started as a whisper and built into a roar as everyone in the bar joined in.


“Mane experrectus sum
pulchra salve, pulchra salve, pulchra salve, salve, salve,
mane experrectus sum
et invasorem inveni.

Vindex, me aufer,
pulchra salve, pulchra salve, pulchra salve, salve, salve,
vindex, me aufer
quod sentio mortem ad me adesse.

Et si morior vindex
pulchra salve, pulchra salve, pulchra salve, salve, salve,
et si morior vindex
me humare debes.

Et me in illo monte humare
pulchra salve, pulchra salve, pulchra salve, salve, salve,
et me in illo monte humare
sub pulchri floris umbra.

Cuncta multitudo qua fluet,
pulchra salve, pulchra salve, pulchra salve, salve, salve,
cuncta multitudo qua fluet
mihi "Qui pulcher flos!" dicabit

Et hic flos est vindicis
pulchra salve, pulchra salve, pulchra salve, salve, salve,
et hic flos est vindicis
mortuus pro libertate.
Et hic flos est vindicis
Mortuus pro libertate”

---

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBw45LD8bMw
please listen when you read the song.

---

As the song came to a close, the woman sitting on Dioclese stood up giving the man her room number and she melted into the crowd. Dioclese sat for a moment, and pounded his beer. He threw money to the bartender and he went to go to the women's room.

---

*Umbrial for Partisan.

The Suavidici admiral stood at the helm of his vessel. The navy had set sail shortly after Nero took power, they made their way to Luscova where the next Imperator would be hiding. Nero wanted to destroy the thousands of years of Imperial rule for his national populism, the Imperial Navy would not allow this to happen. The Admirals thought that the fighting would not escalate beyond the legions for and against the coup. Then Nero did something that turned the whole world against the Imperium. He crucified the Arcanstoskan diplomatic staff. The hundreds of years of resentment came crashing out in a fiery cavalcade of violence that left innocents dead and an evil man in command of a state that possesses nuclear warheads. Now the navy would try and find some allies in the world, back home they were already considered enemies of the state but back home the ethnic divides were starting to fracture the land into separate warlords.

The leader of the Admirals was a man by the name of Marcus Aurulius Fraternus. A Patrician who observed naval combat in the western continents of the world from the early eighties until his promotion to Grand Admiral in twenty ten. Now he was desperately trying to find a channel that would take his call. The Luscova-Pact would likely not get involved in the upcoming civil war, but the Bergums-Pact was a more likely option. The Arcanstoskans had declared war on Nero not long ago, but the vast majority of the Suavidici navy sailing west would surely raise some alarms.

The Suavidici were relying on crude methods since their access to the Imperial satellites was cut off by the Umbramandus. Nero knew about the betrayal but he was not going to let anyone else know, in his mind his enemies could kill each other. The Suavidici navy kept sending out a distress message to all who could hear them, on an open channel.

“We are not loyal to Nero, we come in peace to meet with the Luscova or Bergum pact. Please do not shoot, we are on a mission to destroy the criminal Nero regime.”

Fraternus’ hand shook wildly as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, the nerves caused him to smoke again. He had stopped smoking over a decade ago, yet something about this last ride of his caused him to feel like he needed a way to reduce stress and drinking wasn’t an option. His thoughts constantly went back to his grandchildren, his children and his wife. They were in the family estate being guarded by the second legion. There needed to be a way to prevent the bloodshed from becoming catastrophic, and the west was likely the only option.

The Grand Admiral looked out at sea when suddenly he heard a frantic yell coming from his bridge.

“Grand Admiral, sir, there was a response message. Arcansotskans are hailing us and asking to have a meeting. This may be our chance.”

“Good, all ships are to lay anchor and adhere to radio silence after we send our response. Tell the Arcansotskans to meet at coordinates exactly ten kilometers to our north. Tell them we want to negotiate an alliance to take down Nero.”

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici
Prydanian Embassy
Þorleik Breivik sipped another can of Toki's.

"Given up on the diet stuff?" Solveig Boger asked. Þorleik smiled at the commander of his embassy's Knights of the Storm commander.

"You know I never got people who said diet pops taste weird, but when you have enough of them the artificial sweetner does get to be a bit much. So good old cane sugar for now to cleanse my palette."

"You're stress drinking."

"Stress drinking pop, Commander," Þorleik chuckled.
"It's far worse then some other things I could be do doing."

"You've handled this all remarkably well. The crucifixions... those can't be easy."

"You military types," Þorleik said with a shake of his head.
"You think you're the only ones who saw shit during the Civil War? I had to watch my own father and my brothers shot and dumped into a mass grave outside of Akrafjall."

"Jesus... I'm..."

Þorleik just shrugged. Cutting off her attempt to apologize.
"It's ok. I know what you meant. It's... another life I guess. I've put it as far behind me as I can."

"Usually... and this goes for us military types too... when we see something that reminds us of a trauma like that it brings it back."

"Those crucifixions brought those memories back, já. But... it was just cold, you know? There wasn't any horror... just coldness. Whoever did that... Nero... has to be stopped."

"I'm glad we finally have good news on that, then," Solveig replied.

"Thanks to the satellite phone the Santonians were able to pass to us... seriously get rid of that Syrixian crap the Ministry stuck us with... I've been able to confirm that the additional Knights have arrived at all of our consulates."

"Já," Þorleik said as he crushed the empty can in his hand, tossing it in the trash bin as he left his office with Solveig in tow. The new Knights of the Storm had arrived here too. Nero's government wasn't willing to breach diplomatic norms any further... for now... which allowed these new "additional security personnel" to make it to their posts in Prydanian consulates without much harassment. And the Suavidici, Nero's men at least, would be put at ease at the sight of more blue and white Knights of the Storm uniforms. Just more embassy security.
But that's not what Þorleik saw.
"They're not the usual Knights of the Storm sorts, are they?"

"No," Solveig replied.
"Huntsmen's Corps, all of them. Formally, technically. All just recently knighted and transferred by direct order of His Majesty."

Þorleik knew what the Huntsmen's Corps was. Black ops. Special forces. Elite Royal Prydanian Army units. The Huntsmen's Corps was among the first of the military to defect to the FRE after the Syndicalist takeover during the Prydanian Civil War. And they'd remained the elite of the Army since.
He watched. They were integrating the existing Knights of the Storm security- themselves picked from top-level recruits to the Royal Prydanian Armed Forces- into their ranks. And they were turning the embassy into more of a fortress then it already was. Even as the shared wall was knocked down between their building and the Scalvians next door...

"There's no avoiding any of this is there?"

"No."

Major Jakob Hoem, Þorleik's military attaché, approached the two.
"I've just gotten off the horn from Býkonsviði. The government is going to issue a 'temporary' halt to all grain shipments to the Imperium."

"Gods help us," Þorleik sighed. He knew this was likely but now that it was going to happen...
"They're going to besiege us."

"It's going to get worse," Jakob said with a dire look on his face.
"The Arcanstotskans took the case of the crucified personnel to the Bergum Pact. They invoked the mutual defence clause."

"So... we're at war then."

"No," Jakob replied.
"Not officially. Malor-Kanada is sending over a carrier strike force that will include KPFH* Harriers though. We're standing up for our ally. And if things go south... he may decide to storm this embassy. We need to be ready to defend it."

"Commander Boger?" Þorleik asked.

"Já, Ambassador?" Solveig answered.
"See to it, that Olga Bykov, our Arcanstotskan guest, is moved to a safer haven. You know the plan."
"I'll have Lt. Lonning on it."

"Send Kappi and Blóm with him," Þorleik added.
"The Lieutenant will need people with diplomatic status with him. They saved the girl, she'll be comfortable with them."

"Of course Ambassador."

"So..." Jakob said, as Solveig went off to arrange the Ambassador's order.
"Let's get back to your office. You and me. We need to talk about this shit show."

"I've already given the order to burn any sensitive documentation," Þorleik said softly.

"I'm talking about after."

Þorleik looked at the Major, who just nodded.

---

The sounds of military preparedness was muffled as Jakob closed the door to Þorleik's office behind them.

"So, how long until Nero's men gun us all down?" Þorleik asked as he popped another can of Toki's open.

"Oh well I was hoping to talk to you about how we're going to delay that action."

"Can we?"

"If God... or gods in your case... is on our side? There's a chance. If we're lucky and Nero tumbles down like a house of cards."

"You think that'll happen? This happened in Prydania twenty years ago. It led to fifteen years of Civil War. Did those reinforcements come with fifteen years worth of supplies and amo?"

"No," Jakob replied with a slight smile, sitting down opposite the Ambassador.
"But when that happened the Syndicalists were able to control a good portion of the armed forces. And as mad as Leiftur was, and as mad as Nielsen ended being, they weren't drugged out of their mind."

"What?"

"Here's the situation, Ambassador, as Býkonsviði has made me aware of. Nero has control of a tiny fraction of the armed forces. He's facing agitation and discontent in cities he thought he'd have firmly on his side, and there's a separatist crisis. And when I met the man? I could tell. He's drugged out of his gord."

"How could you tell?"

"You see it with certain types of soldiers. Meth addiction's a dangerous trap to fall into if you're a military man. I saw it in Nero's eyes. And people like that... they're not the most rational."

"I'd say, he crucified an entire embassy's worth of diplomatic staff!"

"But that's the thing... our embassy here will be as armed and well defended as it can be. Same for our offices across the Imperium. When the Bergum Pact forces get here, when they link up the Ultramont marines landing in the north, our Knights will be able to establish defensive positions that should hold long enough for Nero to topple from being pushed from too many directions."

"And if we can't?"

"Fascists will kill us all," Jakob replied dryly. He and Þorleik looked at each other in awkward silence for what felt like forever before Þorleik chuckled.
"I'd be terrified if I hadn't been preparing for it since this shitshow began. Is there anything else Command relayed to you I should know about?"

"Only that there are things in the works that, when it's needed, you will be made aware of."

"I'm the ranking diplomatic officer here. Technically speaking I represent the King."

"Don't be upset," Jakob replied.

"I'm not upset."

"Well fine. But I don't know either. They don't tell me everything. But they have the cold brains over in Eskilborg on it."

"Ah," Þorleik muttered, "Hvieti."

---

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici

Styrkar Lykken- or Severus Litus according to his documentation- ducked into an alleyway behind a dumpster. His blond hair had been dyed black and cut as short as it could be while still not being a buzzcut, and his blue eyes were hidden behind brown contact lenses. It was as admirable a job as possible to make his Prydanian features seem Suavidici, and the ÖSU agent just hoped it be enough to fly under the radar of the Third Legion patrols.
"Smells like a fokking dump," he muttered as he waited.
"Well, it is a dumpster."
Styrkar turned.
"And I'm not a garbage man, so I don't have to pretend to like it."

"Well that's good, neither are we. But we still take out the trash."

Styrkar smiled. That was the code that had been agreed to between the ÖSU and the anti-Nero resistance.
"You're my contact?"

"I am, viking," the Suavidici man replied. They were both in civilian clothing, but Styrkar knew a military man when he saw one.
"Your Umbrial is very good."

"I'm a quick study of linguistics. Anything with a tongue, really."

"Oh you can try that charm on some of the ladies we have back 'home.' If you can survive a Suavidici woman you'll get our respect 10 fold."

"Will me bringing the good news of friends and guns help?"

"That will get our respect five fold," the Suavidici man said with a smile.

"That's good enough for government work," Styrkar replied.
"So which way's 'home'?"

"Did you see a green coffee shop down that way? A few blocks?"

"Yes."

"Go out back. Wait. We'll meet you."

"Understood."

The two men nodded... and made off in separate directions.

---

*KPFH- Royal Prydanian Air Force

The Boreus Strait
4 septembre 2022

Commodore Pius Peniculus met the collective gaze of his personal platoon, each of which had shot up restlessly from their bunks as he made his presence known amongst them. They're tired. So am I, but they won't need my sympathy. There are expectations, now that there will be war, he thought.

The landing party of which Peniculus was now in command marked the beginning of the secretive yet long-anticipated deployment of the 21st Naval Assault Squadron in the Imperium Suavidici. The men had been well trained and their objectives rigorously instilled (overkill would hardly begin to describe it). Furthermore, in the short time that Operation Mastodon had been set into motion, a hundred or more marines had been mustered and readied for standard combat. Peniculus himself wondered if any other squadron in the entire Mobile Forces of Ultramont had been as ready for deployment as they.

Peniculus had a difficult time suppressing his pity all throughout the operation. Incursions such as these were unlike anything Ultramont had done before, and he knew very well the scheming had come from Gabréal, and not from a command centre where it ought to have arisen. This is a political game. He cursed. Beaudouin will take the credit, win another government, and screw over us Tenebrians, again!

"Commodore, sir?" Said one of the marines, inquisitvely.
"Eh? Oh yes. I was just having a feel for you all, marines. And I'll be honest here, you don't look so pretty." he chuckled. "Catch some grub and gear up before we land. The day is here and it's time to being soldiers, aye?"
"Aye!" The marines wailed flatly.

Peniculus twirled his hands in a hastily fashion, prompting a queue of marines to start out of their bunks and into the quaint mess where some mushy breakfast preparations had been served along with bitter, black tea. No milk, no sugar, no eggs and no bread.

We expect to lose about fifty men today. I pray none of my platoon go, thought the Commodore. But perhaps they will. Five hundred of us leave Tenebricum today. How many of us will actually return?

Peniculus returned to his provisional office setup in the rear-cabin where he could be put into contact with the other 9 lieutenants. It was only Peniculus among the leadership of the squadron who had known some kind of actual military excursion. It had been decades since Suavidici and Ultramontese soldiers had aimed their guns at one another.

The Faraways crisis was where Peniculus earned his stripes. For months, he had an airtight campaign within and without the island, where he awaited day-by-day an imperial fireship finally arriving to stir the country into disarray for the first time since the War of the Boreus Strait. But no ship ever came. Nevertheless, his colourful thinking and quick preparation granted him the merit and respect worthy of a commodore. He was given the position and a squadron of his own, a regiment that consisted entirely of young Tenebrian men and women like himself.

Pius took to the communicator, which flashed green as he picked up the mike. "Peniculus to strategic command, over."

In rapid succession, each lieutenant confirmed their presence. When the quorum had been met, Pius began.

"Per instructions, we are to arrive at codename St. Elmo's Beach in good time. The Suavidici navy is at our side. Don't feel too disoriented, as most of the danger is concentrated around Suavidicum where the Emperor's legions are fighting for control. Prydanian and Arcanstotskan naval parties are going to be taking up most of Nero's mind."
"So's his crystal!" Snorted another lieutenant.
"Enough interruptions. Save it for the mess, please." Peniculus sighed. "Over the coming days, we will be receiving parties of Suavidici militiamen. Our first arrivals will be shaky, they're not so fond of us, but they'll know who we are in time. We speak their language, we eat their food, enough said! These luctatores are rough, scrappy, but we can change that. We'll have plenty of guns to spare, a flag to rally around, and the most excellent field training these provincials could ever ask for. In a matter of weeks, we'll have our entire squadron, reinforcements, and hundreds of Suavidici gunmen to count. Then, we'll do whatever it takes to pull Nero down, and put the Emperor back where he belongs. If we have to do it ourselves, then we'll do it."

---

Codename St. Elmo's Beach, Imperium Suavidici
September 4, 2022

The landing proved slow and uneventful. The place designated 'St. Elmo's Beach' was a craggy, dry outcrop. Unlike the more splendid golden beaches which marked the coasts west of Dente Montibus. The landing parties trudged through the water with little haste, and advanced into the valley where a quick tally was conducted. Equipment had been offloaded, food rations distributed, and the forward-marines (of which Pius commanded) had been armed with assault weaponry. Out of all the marines, his looked the most frightened. The commodore confirmed with the tallyman, 487 marines total among ten platoons.

"Look alive, brothers! We meet with our first band of luctatores in a small settlement called Periculum! Only a few klicks away." Said Pius.

His marines looked amongst each other with varied expression. Peniculus sighed. They'll do better once they're in hot water, I hope. I know these militiamen aren't going to be so humble, he thought.

The slow march began. The Suavidici countryside was not so much different from Lower Tenebria back home in Ultramont. Gorgeous lowlands, flowery groves, pond-meadows, each flanked by vast, empty plains. The shadow of mountain ranges lined the eastern skyline.

"Hey, Sissinius, If you'd have dropped me in here with a blindfold, I would've thought this was in Paedorus!" One of the marines was saying.
"Stop talking. What if one of 'em jumps out of the glade there, and fires at us?"
"Tabenaqui, Sissinius. Do you mind not saying crazy shit like that?"

When the squadron reached Periculum, each forward-man looked incredibly nervous. Peniculus rode up in his armoured car to offer some comfort, and to greet the luctatores gathered there. However, Peniculus' optimistic smirk sank as he spotted unfamiliar colours among the buildings.

The lieutenant in the passenger seat pointed out through the windshield. "Echo in streets. I'll send the signal, sir?"

"Straight away." Pius confirmed.

At once, several of the forward contingents stopped to entrench. A combined force gathered at the perimeter of Periculum, armed with a multitude of weapons. The commodore emerged from his vehicle immediately to dispatch new orders.

"You've probably all been thinking it, and I'm sorry to say you've thought right, marines!" He began. "Our rendezvous in Periculumhas been interrupted by a force of Nero's legionnaires. They probably saw the advance coming yesterday, when the landing party was gathered in Tenebricum. The good news is that they stand no chance. There wouldn't have been enough time for them to get an entire legion on the move, neither would they have one to spare with all the commotion out west. So your task is simple. You'll all be behind the wheel. Gunners will take their position, and you'll rid the town of its problem as quickly as possible. I have word from oversight that our Suavidici friends have taken refuge uphill in Occolleus. Show them what Ultramont is willing to do for them!"

Finally, Pius could see some determination in the faces of his platoon. He smiled accordingly. Just as I predicted. Marines always swim better in hot water. Let's see you win against my boys, Nero!

---

Periculum, Imperium Suavidici
September 6, 2022

At morning, smoke billowed over the town of Periculum. Pius noted that there were a few new holes pockmarking the white walls in town, a few craters where streets had once crawled smoothly between the buildings, and the sheepish faces of the locals peered out their windows to spy on the occupying force. The commodore was nibbling pensively at a granola-cookie as he walked down the main boulevard, where an assemblage of marines ruminated and conversed.

The operation had gone 'splendidly' as was reported in Gabréal, but splendid meant something different there. In fact, it meant something different outside the military all together. Twenty losses. Not bad, but... Pius mused, choking down his snack. Well, first blood had to come at some point, I suppose. As Peniculus continued down the street, he passed by the medical cadre. They were loading the twenty-or-so bodies from the battle into the back of a great green truck. Along the edge of the cadre were five other marines, a small party indeed, but one which stirred the Commodore gravely as he dropped in. Each had one another's arms at their shoulder, each had a face that knew death. At least the medics had seen things like this already in their civilian life. But these kids, hell, even I haven't seen such a thing. Real, actual casualties in battle. He thought.

He looked down at his meal and frowned, deciding suddenly he was no longer hungry. When he looked back up from pocketing the cookie, the medics had driven off with the bodies. The commodore stood alone now, facing the five marines. He crossed the cadre before they could make off and caught their attention. Their ghostly expressions and dampened eyes brought about a sickness in his gut, the feeling clung to him and sent waves of discomfort through his spine. They can't be left demoralized like this. But I couldn't be so cruel as to tell them off. They'll know when they'll be ready to get back to the fight.

"Marines." The commodore started. "I understand these fallen souls were your comrades. Believe me, I feel your losses. Admittedly, this is the first real moment of bloodshed I've seen in a very long time."

They each stared at their feet, still and pensive. Peniculus was struck with the strange weight of making so unpleasant a conversation and grunted.

"Anyways, I'll keep this short. I've been advised to grant each of you some R&R. You are permitted to rest and recuperate in the town so long as the current state of things can be kept in order. And take care to remember that these men died in the name of peace. And peace we will continue to try and make here, in the Imperium."

One of the mourners suddenly tensed up, and looked as though he was going to say something.

"Marine?" Pius inquired awkwardly.
"Its the government's doing!" He exclaimed. "Peace? What a joke. This operation's about some chintzy deputies looking good for the press! Thank you for your service, marine, saving the Suavidici and all! Too bad we won't spend a dime to help your own damned people!"

Pius tensed up, felt himself shuffling backwards. In the silence that ensued, the five marines started away, their heads bowed in an air of darkness. The one who had shot back at the Commodore was subsequently pulled away by his fellow soldier, and the sorry souls vanished into the crowd of other marines. Peniculus stood silently for a second. Could I have said something there? He wondered. How could I have, anyway? He isn't wrong, he's simply doing the wrong kind of thinking. Pius now felt himself rubbing his temples in a brief pang of frustration. But he isn't wrong, he thought. No, not wrong at all!

He lifted the cookie from his pocket and chucked it angrily against the road, watching it smash into a hundred crumbs which rocketed in every direction. God, how many more times will I have to tell this same lie?

Augustus sat in his bedroom the palace had been cut off from the outside, the internet didn't work, the TV didn't work and Nero's damned Ferra Custodia would walk the Palace grounds to make sure that everything was on the up and up. The Pretorians were confined to their barracks across the Palace complex but Augustus wasn't permitted to leave the Palace building or the baths. Augustus spent his days reading books in his library and spending time with his harem, he was of course also dealing with the seclusion with any bottle of liquor that he could find. Augustus clapped his hands and the women of his harem walked in, carrying cigars and Prydianian whiskey. The Imperator tended to wear his armor, a toga and a golden crown, he would walk around his Palace in imitation of ancient Imperators, his harem would wear outfits as well. One of the women took to wearing the outfit that Princess Leona wore in Bella Astra when she was captured by Jaba, another would wear a Saintonge maid costume. The Palace became more like a frat house than an imperial residence.

Augustus looked up at the mirror he put above his bed, all around him were bottles of booze and women, it was like every teenage boys dream. Augustus caught a glimpse of his face, he usually kept his face clean shaven now there was a long beard that came down to his chest. The golden eagle that on his armored chest was covered, Augustus took a long swig from his whiskey and looked down at his harem, they were asking him what sort of naughty games did he want to play today, when his attendant opened the door.

"My lord, there is a special guest in the throne room." The attendant said and gestured for the door.

Augustus stood up, he stumbled as he walked over to the door. The Imperator walked down to the throne room, his buzzed mind was already pissed off that there was likely *ANOTHER* National Populist checking in on the Imperator, making sure that the party was doing everything it could to make sure their lord was comfortable. Augustus entered his throne room to find the court empty, not even his attendant was in the room. The only person who stood there was a unremarkable brunette man, Augustus sat in his throne and looked at the man.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my palace, and why are you in my palace?" Augustus was trying his hardest figure out who this person was.

"Your highness, I am with the OSU, I was sent here to make sure you're alive. We're going to try and get you and your men out of the city." The man started talking in Umbrial, Augustus must have looked shocked because the agent started to repeat himself.

"Your highness, its time to get you out of here."

"How, what's been going on outside." The Imperator stammered.

"Your highness we need to get this plan in action. The first legion and you will make a push for the port, from there you will mount up and the Suavidici navy will take you to meet up with loyalist forces to the east.

"When will this operation take place?" Augustus kept looking at the man, in disbelief that he was being saved.

"Soon, I will be staying here with you until the combined navies gets back here from their trip at sea." The OSU agent said to Augustus.

"Then you will excuse me, I have to get myself ready for this trip."

Augustus got up from his throne and went back to his chambers. He went into the shower and took the first real shower he had in over a month, he shaved and put on a suit. Augustus was going to look the part of an Imperator, in the meantime he would prepare to make a television message to his people from the ships.

Periculum, Imperium Suavidici
10 septembre 2022

When the time came for the 21st Naval Assault Squadron to meet with their new army of luctatores, Commodore Pius Peniculus was called into the town hall which stood at the centre of Periculum. Much like the Operation itself, the building had evidently seen its share of troubles. For one, the locals had informed Command that the building itself was not so ancient as it appeared, for it only featured a revival-style colonnade that had only been installed in the sixties. It was erected over the ruin of a Suavidici customs house which was far, far older. Unfortunately, the new architecture was flawed, and so one side of the building sloped downwards into the cavity below, which still glowed pearly white with the marble of old glory. That is what we are, thought Peniculus. We will uphold the future here.

Pius had, for the time being, overcome his great fit of pessimism which had wracked him for the past few days since that first bloodshed. There could be no emotional disturbances today, even if there was more death. We must secure the loyalty of these provincials at all costs.

Suddenly, as the marines began to assemble within and without the town hall, a whole brigade of roughnecked militiamen rode into Periculum on chipped, dented trucks which smelled awfully of diesel, and slightly of a horses' stable. The majority of these freedom fighters were old rural farmers, whose commerce had reportedly been badly impacted by the current civil disorder, and whose loyalty to the Imperium was unquestionable. They revered their emperor, but it was henceforward essential that they see the Ultramontese meant only to further their aims and restore order.

The leader of this cabal was, coincidentally, also called Pius. Though in true Suavidici fashion, he actually referred to himself by three traditional names and stuck mostly to his last two surnames. He was Pius Octavius Lucilla.

Peniculus met Major Lucilla at the steps of the town hall. He wore his polished naval attire and shiny leather shoes. Peniculus was surprised to see the getup which Lucilla had adopted, which was a loose, green jumpsuit, boots, and a dazzling purple beret. That was gifted to him, surely. The rest of this is standard issue, the Commodore observed. And this impression would be proven to be correct, for Lucilla revealed later in a casual remark that when he had risen as the leader of his militia, his grandmother had bestowed upon him the beret, worn by his own grandfather during his time in the War of the Boreus Strait as a captain-at-sea.

"Major Lucilla, sir, we have been most eager to meet you." Peniculus smiled.

Pius was pleased to know Lucilla was incredibly polite, and replied "Commodore Peniculus, sir. A fine squadron you have assembled here, fine indeed! We had assumed direction over the town for three days before the legionnaires drove us back to Occolleus. I was happy to get a feel for your boys' abilities, here."

And quite a pleasing dialect of Umbrial he speaks as well! Remarked Peniculus. Where has this Lucilla come from, I wonder?

When the two men had finally entered and sat at either side of one other in the town hall, an officer bound towards the great conference table and began snapping shots of all parties. To the left, an array of lieutenants in uniform. To the right, a horde of gunslingers in trousers. As the officer swung his camera around at Peniculus and Lucilla, he stepped back and said, "Big smiles for the camera, gentlemen, these photos are going to be featured by Télé-Outremont!"

As he spoke this, Peniculus' grin dropped into a frown. Though Lucilla, beaming like a child, muttered, "Isn't that just exciting?"

"You get used to it." Peniculus groaned.

The cameraman ducked away into a crowd of onlooking marines and locals. Among them were also members of the free press who had been brave enough (or foolish enough, in Pius' eyes) to enter Periculum right after it had been seized from the enemy. While in the planning stages it had once been a priority, the marines had little ressources to spare on vetting the comings-and-goings of the town. Hence came an influx of journalists and other civilians to see the Ultramontese marines up close. Foolishness, Peniculus remarked. Townsfolk are one thing, but this place is becoming more and more like an attraction! We ought to announce a curfew, and deal with these transients straight away.

The commodore stood to deliver a few remarks as the a video camera, operated by another officer, panned in on Lucilla and himself. He flashed an ingenuine smile.

"Well then, everyone, let's get started. First, I'm touched to have so warmly been received by Major Lucilla, who I honour in his determination as the principal coordinator of our efforts here in the northern Imperium. The Ultramontese Navy has the sublime confidence that the Major's luctatores can be provided with the training and materials necessary to fight boldly in the name of Augustus, the legitimate Emperor of the Suavidici, and end the tyranny which has caused so much destruction. Thank you."

There was a dry applause, and a brief silence, before Pius nudged the Major's shoulder, "Aren't you going to say something?"

Lucilla subsequently stared at Peniculus in distress. He went pale and could only bear to repeat the words, "S... say something?"

Camera-shy, this one! Peniculus mused. Why, I'll be damned. He must not be used to the publicity!

"Nothing to be afraid of!" The Commodore grinned at Lucilla. "Anything will do, they'll only need a brief statement, Major."

Lucilla rose slowly from his chair and watched in horror as it kicked backwards and slammed into the ground. The clap of wood thundered across the hall and caught everyone's attention. Lucilla went red with shame as he scurried behind the chair and turned it upright. He chuckled politely before clearing his throat to talk.

"Yes... well... of course..." He muttered. "I am happy to meet the Commodore... here in Periculum, what a pretty town!"

Silence.

"And, um-m-m... He looks very nice in his fancy uniform."

The spectators around the hall and the lieutenants at the Commodore's side began to chuckle. Lucilla turned even redder.

"And... well... all I can say is something that my grandmother once told me. That, um, grudges are for those who insist that they are owed something. And forgiveness is for those who are substantial enough to move on. Well... we aren't forgiving any one of these crucifying scum! No, they owe us big time!" Blurted Lucilla.

While Lucilla's entourage began to holler and cheer, Peniculus winced. A little harsh for a press statement, but not that I disagree, at all. Such fiery words must've really inspired his followers. The rest of the crowd gave an even sparser applause than that which was afforded to Peniculus. Though the Major scarcely looked embarrassed anymore. Two copies of a compact were brought in by a page. They delineated the prearranged terms which would govern the relationship between the luctatores and the marines. In general, it affirmed that the marines would have final say on most matters.

Commodore and Major both signed their respective copies. Shook hands, and smiled once more for a barrage of camera-flashing.

---

Periculum, Imperium Suavidici
September 12, 2022

"Fire!" the marine bellowed!

At once, the cadre of luctatores at the firing range discharged their rifles. Not all in uniformity, and not all with great accuracy. Some were natural marksmen and had acquired plenty of experience with firearms in their days of ranching. Some were borderline hopeless and knew very well that this had been their first time ever handling a gun.

Each fifty-man cadre was headed by a designated sublieutenant who was answerable to one of the squadron's lieutenants. Each cadre approached the range in waves, passing along the rifle for each turn. There were about ten of these cadres all-in-all. Though, there would be more of these brigades to train as recruitment efforts proved more fruitful. It was in this regard that publicity was truly necessary.

Peniculus and Lucilla had finally secured an opportunity to observe the training in action, and walk among their cadres to speak to each other without much pomp and circumstance.

"So you haven't had much time in front of a camera, then, Lucilla?" Pius asked.
"Not much time at all, Major." Replied Lucilla.
"Pius, if you please." He smiled.

Lucilla smiled sheepishly as he surveyed his fighters.

"It might be the wrong idea to say this, but I wasn't totally ready to lead the militia. My father was the real chief of our group and he commanded a lot of respect. When he told me I'd have to take his place when he was too old, I didn't think much of it, at the time. In our oath, we are sworn to defend the Imperium with our lives when it is gravely threatened, but most of the time we were just a couple of farmhands who liked to shoot rifles at cans and drink far too much wine when we weren't off feeding the nation. That didn't change much when he died about a year ago. I was happy to continue rallying the boys, keeping spirits high, and we were still recruiting just as many guns. But then, just like that, some maniac topples the government and we're laid off while the capital is in shambles. What could I do but honour the oath like he'd asked?"

The Major looked back to Peniculus. "Luckily, I've had a lot of good help. The luctatores are provincials, I know, but we're honest men, I promise."

"I think farmers are the most honest kind of men." Peniculus agreed. "I was born in Paedorus, which is just outside of Lineum."
"Yes. And that's pretty rural, too?"
"Not exactly. It's a proper city by any means. But we're the rural sort, if you get what I mean. Any trip out of town, and you're running straight into durum country. You get to know both sides of that world. And I admit I know how humble a life it is. I don't doubt your strength, Lucilla."

Lucilla smiled again, this time holding his head up higher. "I really think we can make a difference in this struggle. That's why I hired more gunners than we have guns to begin with! I was even more delighted when your government reached out to offer their assistance."

"Bah, my government. They know nothing of altruism." Pius scorned.
"No?" Asked Lucilla.
"Not in the slightest. Truth be told, the real reason we're here is for a good show back in Gabréal."

Should I have said that? Pius wondered. A bloody fool, I am. We need confidence here, not friendship.

"Oh." Lucilla sighed. "I see now. It looks good on camera, eh?"
"I shouldn't say that's all it is. I mean, your gunners do need training pretty badly, and after all, better we're here than not."
"It's okay, Pius. I understand. It's not like it was your choice to be here, either. I suspect people called on you to act when the time came, also."

So witty! Pius thought. I must know where that comes from.

"Did you go to school?" The commodore asked.
"As a matter of fact, I did. University. I left home and did it all in the capital. For four years, I made it big. But I had my doubts once I had that piece of paper in my hand. I figured I'd decide what kind of work I'd move on to do after a year back at home. But that year stretched on. Now, more than ever, I don't think I'll be going on anywhere with that degree."
"Have you given it some more thought now, with the war?"
"Honestly, I just don't think I belong anywhere else other than back home." Said Lucilla. "I like it there and I like where I'm at today, more than I liked getting high and staying up all night writing research papers."

Pius scratched his chin for a moment as he watched the fighting-cadres steadily begin to improve their aim. And every now and then, they would be interrupted by a sublieutenant yelling, "On my mark!" and the heavy clamour of gunfire.

"You should join the military." Peniculus admitted. "I think you'd like it there."
"Not likely." The Major replied.
"Why?"
"Well..." Lucilla shrugged. "My grandfather was a captain-at-sea during the Fascist Wars, as I told you. But my father swore never to join after he died. He wasn't the kind of person that had faith in what we bookish sort would call 'the state's monopoly on violence.' He thought the War of the Boreus Strait was, well... as you put it, a show."

The commodore bit his lip.

"He was the kind who really only had faith in himself. He started the militia for that reason. And I mean no offence to you Pius, you've worked hard to defend your people, but you did say about the same thing today."
"Yes, I did." He sighed. "See, I got where I am because I was good at what I did. I was an excellent lieutenant, so they made me Commodore, and put me in charge here. At the time I thought I could do some good. Bridge the gap between Tenebrian and Suavidici, between Ultramont and the Imperium. But more and more I'm just wishing I could run out there and put my skills to some use, like you and your comrades do, without a bunch of deputies calling the shots. Deputies who never would have given a shit about me hadn't I been a damn good leader."

"I hear Tenebrians get the short end of the stick back in Ultramont." Lucilla admitted.
"Sometimes, for sure. It was a lot worse for us when I was younger. It was far worser before I was born. But still, today, when it comes between what Gabréal wants and what Lineum wants..."
"Then might I make a suggestion?" Lucilla asked.

Pius squinted at the young Major. "By all means."

"Train us to be great. Do your absolute best to make us the absolute best." He began. "And maybe we can give Gabréal more than they bargained for."
"How do you mean?"
"Sounds like Tenebrians need someone to advocate for them other than themselves. We can help you once you've helped us topple Nero. The recognition we'll get will send us rocketing back into your Premier's face! Think about it!"

The Commodore, for the first time so far during the campaign, grew quite anxious at what he was hearing.

"Now look here, Major." He said, sternly. "I can't have you meddling in my job security anymore than I can have you meddling in politics!"

But Lucilla simply grinned, knowing it was now the Commodore who had been pushed out of his comfort zone. "How could they lift a finger against you? You would've only been doing your job. And a damn good job, at that! Besides, if you get the boot, we'll be there to fight for you, too."

Now the Commodore was seriously daunted. This talk had grown much too turncoat for his liking.

"Maybe you could be the next Premier, if you had the right attitude." The Major chuckled.
"Enough!" He barked.

Lucilla backed away, indignantly. A group of luctatores spun their heads around and gazed at the Commodore Pius shot a look back at them, and met their furrowed brows. The fact that each held a rifle did little to calm his nerves. Lucilla promptly put a hand on his arm, saying, " Do only what is right for you, Commodore."

With that, Lucilla gave the Commodore a conciliatory pat and walked away to attend to his militiamen. Pius felt dreadful as he parted with the young Major. I shouldn't have said a damn thing! He cursed. Petty feelings! How weak I've made myself look.

And then Peniculus stormed off towards his bunk, where he could catch a moment by himself.

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici

Styrkar Lykken looked around at his surroundings in the Imperial palace. This place had surely seen better days.

Internet... phones... down as expected.

"So,"

It was Augustus.

"How are you going to get me out of here?"

Styrkar looked him over. The Imperator looked better now that he'd had a shower and cleaned up some. He hoped washing the funk off of himself- figuratively and literally- had put him in a good mood, because if not... well... he may not like what he was about to say.

"Your Majesty," Styrkar began with a smile as he began in Umbrial.
"We have a ship in the city's port. When we get you to it we're going to depart and meet up with naval forces loyal to your government. They will escort you to an area of the country outside Nero's control, where you will be able to rally forces against his regime."

"Yes, but how?" Augustus asked, sounding a bit annoyed.
"They have this place on lockdown. How did you even get in?"

"It's my job to get into places like this and I have a lot of practice. Should the ÖSU have sent someone else?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Augustus replied groaning as he sat down at his desk.
"I'm sorry... I just... I'm frustrated. Nero's been in control for over a month. How are we going to get anywhere?"

"By, Your Majesty, using Nero against himself."

Augustus looked up with a confused look but Styrkar moved to the chair across from him to sit.

"Nero's forced you to make him Dominus. But even if we accepted Nero's interpretation of the Imperium's laws his power derives from you. That's why he's kept you isolated and locked up here. He can use you as long as you're alive to prop up his own dictatorship."

"So?" Augustus asked. He knew that. Everyone did. Styrkar just smiled though.
"So we're going to get you out of here by making him think you're going to die."

"Um... what? What I mean... you're going to fake my death?"

"Near death, technically."

"I don't think I like the sound of this plan."

"It's not ideal, no, but if this were an ideal situation I wouldn't be here."

Styrkar sat and watched as Augustus leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back a bit, before nodding.
"Ok... so how's this going to go?"

---

fifteen minutes later

Styrkar directed two men in white uniforms to place the limp body of Augustus on the stretcher.
"We don't have much time!" he called out in Umbrial as he checked his watch. That much was true. Ten minutes and counting. Augustus was already starting to sweat as they strapped him down.

Styrkar quickly shed his long black coat and turned it inside out, revealing a white coat once reversed. He slipped it out and pulled a plastic badge from his pocket, clipping it to the breast pocket of his "new" lab coat.

He and the two Praetorian Guards dressed as male nurses rolled the stretcher down the hallway when two black-clad soldiers stopped them.

"What's going on? We got a report of a medical emergency."

"The Imperator. His Majesty's suffered a cardiac arrest," Styrkar said, not stopping for the guard. Who grabbed his shoulder.

"And you are?"

Styrkar showed nothing but mild annoyance. He knew how he had to play it.

"Dr. Severus Litus," he said as he tapped the badge on his breast pocket.
"Imperial Palace medical staff. Now let us go. His Majesty's life is hanging by a thread here. We need to get him to a hospital."

That... wasn't a lie. Less than nine minutes now and the drug administered to Augustus really would kill him.

The two soldiers looked at each other and at the Imperator, clearly in need of medical assistance.

"Go on through," the firsts soldier said.
"I'll call down and make sure the ambulance is ready."

"Thank you," Styrkar replied with a grateful if put upon smile and they continued on their way... down an emergency elevator and past a few more of Nero's soldiers who now made way as they rolled Augustus into the loading dock to a waiting ambulance. The two Praetorians disguised as nurses loaded him up and just as Styrkar was about to get in with them...

"Doctor?"

Styrkar turned around. It was an officer clad in a sharp black uniform.

"Yes?"

"You should know... The Dominus will be expecting a full report on His Majesty's status at the hospital."

Styrkar's heart was pounding. Between the fear of potentially being discovered and the ticking clock...he glanced down at his watch. Just under a minute.

"Of course. But we must leave now if the Dominus wants good news."

The officer nodded and turned to give his men new orders as Styrkar got into the ambulance.

"Cutting it close, viking?"

"Well you know, fascists do love to chat," he said as the ambulance began to drive away. He pulled out a vile and needle strapped to his calf and filled it up... close yes, but with thirty seconds to spare as he injected the Imperator with a drug that... yes... there it was. Just seconds later Augustus' heavy breathing calmed and he looked relaxed.

"Di..." he began but Styrkar put his finger up to his mouth as he moved to the front of the ambulance.

"Býkonsviði looking good in football this year, eh?" he asked.

The driver looked at him and smiled ever-so-slightly.

"Black or blue?" he replied. Styrkar smiled and pat his shoulder and returned to the back of the ambulance.

"We're good."

"Nero's forces won't let us get to the port though. We're practically being escorted to the hospital," one of the two disguised Praetorians said.

Styrkar pulled his phone out. They were outside of the range of the signal dampener Nero had deployed at the palace. He sent a message off and got a single in response.

"They're about to be a bit distracted. Hold His Majesty down."

"What?" Augustus asked as the Praetorians grabbed the Imperator as they braced themselves. A vicious explosion rocked the ambulance.

"Your forces on the outside within the city, Your Majesty," Styrkar said to a shocked Augustus.

"MAYDAY!" Styrkar called and the driver peeled off, down a side street admist the chaos. The ambulance rumbled down the streets of Suavidicum, sirens blaring, to add to the confusion.

"What happened?" Augustus asked, still strapped down.

"A bomb at one of Nero's checkpoints. His forces will be in a panicked response. Soldiers everywhere, people panicking. An ambuelnce with blaring sirens just blends into the background."

Styrkar shed the faux lab coat, revealing the black turtleneck he was wearing underneath, and the over the shoulder holster that held two pistols.

"Things will be harry once we get to the Port, Your Majesty, but follow me, we'll get you out of here," Styrkar said as Augustus was finally unstrapped from the stretcher.

The ambulance stopped and the driver pulled an automatic rifle from a duffel bag in the front passenger seat.
"Let's go," he said, tossing the bag back. Styrkar armed the two Praetrians and the party disembarked.

Styrkar held Augustus' head down as they escorted him to a grey cargo ship flying the Prydanian flag.

"Technically the last grain ship out of the Imperium."

"Technically?" Augustus asked.

"Well there isn't any grain on it," Styrkar winked.

A slim man, young looking, no older then 25, poked around a corner as the party was on board.

"Everyone here?" he asked in Prydanian.

"Já!" Styrkar called back.
"Get us out of here!"

"Where are we? What's happening?"

"Your Majesty, we are aboard a ship that is the property of the Prydanian government. As I said we are going to meet up with naval forces loyal to you."

Augustus felt the ship move... they were going out to see.

"Nero won't let us leave."

"Like I said this is a grain ship heading back in lue of my government's temporary halt on grain shipments."

"He'll find out I'm here."

"If he does then he won't be able to do anything about it."

"Why not?"

"We've got contact! The angels are dancing!" the younger man from earlier called back in Prydanian.

"Because," Styrkar replied.
"It pays to have friends with aircraft carriers."

And indeed... above the clouds... naval fighter craft loyal to the Imperator had confirmed their presence. Ready to escort the ship out.

Augustus smiled and leaned against the wall of the ship hallway and breathed deep.

"Mr. Lykken I can't... I can't express my gratitude I..."

"It's ok, it's ok. Trust me. It'll be fine, come on. I'll lead you and your men to quarters where you can relax."

Augustus nodded, following the ÖSU agent, and quite ready to finally be free of Nero's grasp. And help turn the tide of this attempted power grab.

---

Where Has Everybody Gone? by the Pretenders, 3:37

Periculum, Imperium Suavidici
27 septembre 2022

And now, the hutment outside Periculum had grown quite large. Anti-aircraft batteries had been constructed around the perimeter of the city, which flanked great iron fencework. Scouts were dispatched regularly to patrol for incoming trouble. The danger of a siege started to rub off on many people. At any moment, a legion of Nero's squad could infiltrate Periculum and slaughter everyone given the slightest oversight in security. The training had also become more rigorous. While a few weeks past they had only just began to learn how to use their weapons properly, combat technique was starting to be prioritized given the timeframe and relative inexperience of the luctatores. This strategy had the cadres of fighters either in town, learning technique in classrooms, or out in the hutment, running agility courses and performing advanced drills for their sublieutenants. The recruits were even running laps with the marines each break of dawn, a suggestion proposed by Lucilla, who grew ever more popular among both the militiamen and even the marines themselves.

Luckily, this was something the Commodore had foreseen after his brief clash with the Major. He finally had a plan for him.

At the time, Pius was doing his part in instructing a class of twenty Suavidici luctatores on grand strategy. These were mostly Lucilla's inner circle, and they hardly appeared to be enjoying themselves. They were restless and arrogant, constantly asking when they'd be allowed back into the hutment where they could continue with their combat training. Sometimes, even asking when Major Lucilla would be joining them. Lucilla is learning how to be a leader, thought the Commodore. At the moment, Lucilla was elsewhere in town with one of Pius' lieutenants receiving specialized counsel on leadership and security. And soon he will learn how to be a follower.

Before the Commodore could finish his talking point on battle formations, the gang of militiamen began to chatter and buzz about the desks, pretending to fire at one another as if in a game of Contrefeu 2, a popular first-person shooter back home in Ultramont. The Commodore's nerves were everywhere. He had a lot on his mind, concerns both beyond the town's walls and within. As the disquiet grew intolerable, Pius hollered before kicking a table with his boot and launching it across the room. It smashed into the wall and suffered a giant crack down the middle before tumbling over. The room of twenty went quiet in a flash as they turned to see the broken desk to their left. They looked to Pius who was now wearing a great red, angry face.

"When you are all leaders, what will you do when your platoon is confronted by an ambush? Or when you come across a drone is flying towards your group?"

No answer came through. Pius sat himself at the edge of his desk and fidgeted with a globe of Eras as his anger settled.

"You need to learn to think fast and to never get distracted! You need to think like a leader, not like a soldier! A soldier is meant to be ambitious but compliant. A leader is cautious but authoritative. There will come a time when simply being another set of hands in the fight won't be enough. Volume isn't always the deciding factor, especially in your case. You need to learn how to plan ahead and think smarter than your enemy."

The group of men looked around at each other and winced. Pius took three steps closer towards the nearest row of desks.

"So, you will return to this class tomorrow with..."

Suddenly, the classroom door swung open without so much as a knock. With two marines at the forefront of the incoming visitor, Major Lucilla walked in with his standard purple beret and signaled to his militiamen. Instantly, the class erupted into cheers and raucous greetings as though the Commodore's example with the poor table had not even occurred. Pius grew even more enraged but decided to spare the life of the next table in front of him this time. Perhaps it is time I see Lucilla again.

"My men! You should be up and training! You should be going out to the battlefield and bolstering the cause! What kind of soldier sits in a classroom?"

Great. Looks like his lessons in charisma have only worked against me, the Commodore cursed. As he was rubbing his temple, the group of twenty marched out of the classroom hooting and hollering whilst Lucilla slapped each one on the bottom in some vulgar gesture of encouragement. After the last one had shuffled out of the room, there was only Lucilla, the two marines, and Pius.

"So, Pius. I've been thinking..." Lucilla started.
"Commodore Peniculus, I think you mean." Muttered Pius.
"I've been thinking we've gotten off on the wrong foot, here." Lucilla said, approaching the broken table. "Um, what happened here?"

The Commodore ignored his question and gestured to the two marines. "Caepio, Publicola, you two are not bodyguards. Report to the hutment at once."

The two marines looked at each other abashedly and trotted out the door, much to Lucilla's irritation.

"Now hold on, just a second!" Lucilla growled. "I wasn't going to have them following me around all day! I was coming to tell you we should probably be on better terms if this is going to work out."
"Yes, better terms indeed." Peniculus grinned. "So I've heard you've really commanded the loyalty of your troops now that you are learning how to conduct yourself as head of an army, rather, head of a movement."
"It's gotten a lot easier since two weeks ago. They even took my picture for your newspaper, again." Lucilla sighed.
"Well, then. Perhaps you've changed your mind on the matter of publicity."

Lucilla frowned confusedly.

"Have you?" Asked the Major.

The Commodore smiled again. This time, I won't be taken for a fool.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't." Peniculus admitted. "I continue to admit that appearances take the humility out of being a soldier. But in your case, I'm starting to see how that might be good for you in the long term."
"Well then, I'm afraid to say my opinion hasn't changed much either." Lucilla frowned. "Perhaps I was wrong to come here thinking we could settle for something."

Lucilla began to turn away towards the door until the Commodore cleared his throat rather loudly.

"You weren't wrong to come here, Lucilla. I agree with you, I think we should be on better terms. So now, I'm going to tell you my terms!"

Lucilla scoffed. "You have no leverage with me, Pius! I can walk out of here with all the money your pathetic government spent on us. We can march on Suavidicum ourselves and rescue His Majesty like we ought to, rather than wank around in classrooms! I gave you a chance at getting what you wanted. I can tell you've given it quite some thought. And still, you've pussied out. When are you going to get off your ass and stand up for what you really want?"

Peniculus stood smiling. Here it comes.

"Tell me about Fulvia Quinta Aurelius."

The Major's face turned from an arrogant smirk to a cold, thoughtless, stare. For a moment he said nothing. As Lucilla continued to silently stare at him, the Commodore went into his briefcase, retrieved an orange dossier, and walked several documents over to a projector which sat at the middle of the room.

"Get the light for me, would you?" Peniculus asked.

Lucilla shuffled hesitantly towards the light switch near the door and flicked them. Once he had done this, Peniculus switched the projector on, and an image was cast onto the screen at the front of the room. Lucilla gasped.

"This is you, right?" Pius asked, moving closer to the projector screen. "And this is Fulvia, your lover?"
"Where... did you find that?" Lucilla gulped. "How could you know... what happened?"

Pius returned to the projector and began swapping out the notes, photographs, and memos for others. It seemed that the orange dossier contained an endless heap of evidence, held together by two crisscrossed elastic bands. To Lucilla's relief, Pius finally flipped the switch on the projector and the entire classroom went dark, save for the afternoon sun which beamed in through the windows. The Commodore put his orange folder back together and held it out towards the Major, saying, "Would you like to have this?"

"Give it to me!" Lucilla growled, snatching the folder and peering inside.

As he flipped through it, he shuddered and whimpered. The truth is that nobody but Pius and Lucilla knew what exactly was contained in that folder. Save for the Service de renseignement de l'Outremont agents who had collected the dirt on Lucilla.

"What would your humble father think about this?" Peniculus asked.
"You scumbag! You think you have something on me? You think you can control me? I'll pull my men out of here right this second! You can drag your ass back to that rathole where you come from!"
"I'll do more than control you, Major. I can end you with this. With a single flash of this folder, I can reveal who you really are."
"So you have changed your mind, then." Lucilla frowned. "You're on your government's side. That's who you really are. You felt intimidated by me and ran back to your oppressor. How fucking typical!"
"No!" The Commodore snapped. "I'm on my side. Did you really think you could disarm me with a single word? Did you think you could dazzle me and my troops with your friendship? I know what your real aim is. You want power. Well you can count yourself out. Each time you think you can walk in the town that my squadron fought to seize, firing up your troops, having drunken target practice in the night like a drove of hillbillies, you should think of what happened with your precious Fulvia."
"How dare you say that name!"

Pius folded his arms. "So here are my terms. You will fall in line. You will quit acting stupid. You will lead, under my discretion. And finally, you will be nothing but grateful in my presence. In short, you will cooperate with the twenty-first naval assault squadron completely. Are those terms suitable enough for you?"
"This is blackmail!" Said the Major.

He threw the orange dossier at the chalkboard and watched it erupt in a flurry of photographs and notes as the rubber bands snapped away.

"You knew you couldn't run away from this forever." Pius said. "But I think, if you want a chance at moving on, you should take some more time to think my offer over."
"You'll regret this once you pull out of here. You'll have a target on your back, Peniculus!"
"I have enough evidence to have you disgraced, to have you hanged, or to have you walking down the road bruised and in rags, back to Graiusermagio. So I'd watch what you say and to whom you speak for the next couple of months."

The Major growled. He swung around and made for the door in a fury. Before stepping through, he held himself back on the doorframe and looked back towards the Commodore.

"You have more balls than I thought. That was my mistake, I suppose. But there's no doubt what you said to me two weeks ago came from your heart. You should hate yourself for this. And you will be a puppet for the rest of your life."

With that, Lucilla grabbed the door handle and flung the door shut behind him. Peniculus stood facing the door for a few seconds before turning to regard the mess which had accumulated at the front of the classroom. He walked over to the orange folder and began gathering its contents together, dusting off papers, and trying to pack it neatly into the worn folder again. I did what I had to do, thought Peniculus. Things would've gone out of control if I didn't get something on that little prick... and yet... Pius threw the orange dossier back into his bag and felt tears begin to trickle down his face. Was that a wasted opportunity? I've pulled rank, again, yet still I feel so... weak. He whimpered a little as he stretched over the desk, looking deep into the wood grain and hating himself more and more with each passing thought. Could I have wasted a means to fight back?

This train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a breeze of smoke which washed over the topside of the desk. The commodore gasped and flung around instantaneously, only to see a smoking man, standing at his shoulder in an all-black tactical uniform. Service de renseignement de l'Outremont was printed on his sweatshirt.

"I could've killed you, signore." The man chuckled. "Never keep your back to the door!"

Pius finally noticed that a second doorway near the front of the classroom (which he had assumed was only a closet) was now opened into an adjacent lecture hall. He looked back at the smoking man and winced. "You were listening?"

"Signore, you asked us to procure intelligence, to which we humbly obliged. But that intelligence is ours. Information is my duty, not yours. You could have seriously compromised Operation Mastodon with how you handled Major Lucilla just now."
"And you could've done any better?" Pius mumbled.

The intelligence officer came closer to the Commodore and took a long draw from his cigarette. "My duty. You made a deal with the devil, but the devil wants to see he at least gets his money's worth. So expect to see a lot more of me, Signore."

A trail of smoke followed the agent as he snuck back through the door and closed it without a sound. Pius was completely shaken, he tried to think of something but found every thought brought him closer and closer to a total breakdown. He stumbled back around to his bag and lifted out a container branded with the name 'Fortin.' He cracked the lid and shook three yellow pills into his mouth and took a great gulp of water, before crawling to the floor and rubbing his chest. Ceres munificus, Vulcan sempiternus. Deos meos, I beg of you, get me out of this hellhole! He pleaded in his mind.

Shells, sun, and more shells. That’s what the weather was like, day in and day out. Ever since the Imperator was lifted from Suavidicum the fighting had intensified, a week had gone by. Nero’s men dug in and were making it hell to push them out. Worst part was, they had the exact same equipment as us.

I heard from Marcus, who heard from Gaius, who apparently heard from a fighter pilot. That the air war was a bitch, our new generation of jets gave off the radar signature of a humminbird. All the aerial fighting was devoted to destroying UAVS, and recon aircraft. Just the other day I heard that our bombers had hit an ammo dump some 20 kilometers behind the lines. Legate Araluen keeps sending out messages, apparently the first legion has started a guerrilla campaign in the capitol. These are messed up times.

“Hey, Heracles! I bet you twenty Denari that I can hit that poor fucker trying to scout us out.”

“Bullshit, he’s got to be 450m out.”

Marcus readied his gun, took a breath and fired.

“BULLSEYE! Give me my money, soon enough I’ll be as rich as Dioclease.”

“I heard he’s part of the Vindex.”

“No way, that rich boy is fighting. Makes you think that there is some good in the world.”

“Alright you two, I need you to listen.”

Signifer Claudius arrived, he was holding his rifle. Which meant we were finally leaving our current position.

“We have been ordered to move out and secure the manufacturing district of Portacocoli. It is a riverside town, we will be supporting a push by the other cohorts in taking the town and opening the Via Suavidicum to our forces.”

I was practically jumping out of my boots at this news. I was sick and tired of staying put, and if we are launching an offensive that means that the Third legion is having a worse time of it than we thought.

“Now I don't know about you guys, but I’m sure happy to get a move on. We will be supporting two other cohorts, and there is a squadron of armor being sent to help so you know this will be fun.”

“Hey Sig!”

“DEUS Damnit!” The improper use of rank always seemed to piss off Claudius.

“What do you want, Marcus!”

“I don’t know about you, but I am not very pleased with the idea of advancing. In case you forgot, there is a rather large minefield in between us and that town. You know, the reason why we stopped.”

“Lucky for you, due to pressure from the eighth and tenth legions, a good chunk of the third legion's attention has been moved, meaning air superiority. Air superiority means that the minefield is gone.”

“Hell yeah.” The squad said in unison.
Tanks rolled up, and with them came the other cohorts. It was finally time to move.

---

The first sign of the attack was the PMTES firing their rockets. UAV’s had been out all day, and the towed artillery positions of the third legion had been sighted and in a few minutes would be destroyed.

Then the Tanks and APC’s lurched forward. As the Tanks approached we way anti-tank rockets streaming towards the vehicles. The S-10’s fired off their anti rocket systems, and anything that managed to make it through was countered by the reactive armor.

“Armor appearing at twelve degrees!” Claudius yelled into his radio, the tanks turned, sighted, and fired.

The first round of shells that were fired were countered, the second wave fired hit home. The tank's life support kicked in and the crew bailed, so the push continued. The AS-21 fighters flew overhead, strong points we haven’t even encountered yet were blown up in the distance. The puffs of fire caused cheers to run through the assault group.


“Alright men, we’re breaking off from the group! The industrial district is over here!”

Claudius broke his men off from the main push. They made for the steel plant.

“Sig, do you think that the Populists will be waiting for us here.”

“What kind of question is that Marcus, of course they will be.”

“Well then can we play a little game then, I think I’ll bag the most Fascists.”

“I’ll take those odds.” I said

“Me too.” Claudius responded.

Soon enough everyone in the cohort was agreeing. All of the chatter was cut short when the Sig put his hand up and everyone moved for cover. The steel mill opened up with machine gun fire, The different Manipuls broke off and got ready to return fire.

Mortars began to fire on the steel mill, and the rifle Manipuls began to lay covering fire as they advanced. My manipul reached the corner of the street a block away from the steel mill when the mortars stopped firing.

“Team one moves when teams two through five begin to fire on the building. Ready, GO!”

The significars voice rang out through coms, and every man moved in near perfect unison. Covering fire rang out as my team rushed for the doors.

“DEUS damnit, I never want to do a run like that again.” I said looking at Marcus.

“You’re damn sure about that.”

“Well I supposed it’s grenade time.”

“After you, I would hate to take honors of first ‘nade.”

“I think we should go together.”

“3-2-1, LAUNCH!”

The first team threw their grenades, and took cover. A moment later The face of the building shook. Bodies flew out of the windows and smashed into the ground. I puked when I saw their faces, charred with a look of fear. These were 18 year olds, not part of the regular army. They had the hydra of Nero’s National populist movement on their armor.

The rest of the night was spent clearing out factories, some buildings were just leveled by artillery others were taken without much of a fight. By sunrise the next day, Portacocoli was ours.

On board the ZMS Friederiek de Êienste
The Constantine Sea, near the Suadivici coast
September 2022


Several officers were on their way to what they colloquially called “the office”; they had all been called to the ready room for a pre-flight mission briefing. Many of them were part of CVW 71, the carrier’s air wing. Their vessel was the flagship of the strike group had been deployed to brave the high seas and make the journey to the Imperium Suadivici, where a war waged between the armies of the Dominus Nero and those still loyal to the Imperator.

The hum of conversation gradually faded as the room fills with pilots, intelligence officers, and support staff. A large screen at the front displays a map of the target area, marked with red and blue icons representing enemy and friendly forces. Konteradmiraal* Hynsveldburger, the commanding officer arrived in the room and all who were sitting stood at attention. The Konteradmiraal, standing at the podium, called them all to ease and clears her throat as she began the briefing:

"Good morning, everyone. We've got a critical mission ahead of us, so let's get down to business. Our target is a high-value enemy installation deep in their territory. Our objective is to neutralize their anti-air defences and pave the way for the allied advance and weaken Nero’s forces."

The screen switches to an aerial view of the targets, revealing an intricate web of radar sites, surface-to-air missile launchers, and enemy aircraft hangars. A map is shown next to the satellite view, corresponding to the targets shown. The intelligence officer steps forward, pointing at various points on the screen.

"Intelligence suggests the forces of Nero have bolstered their defences in preparation for attacks against Imperial forces” the officer says to the air wing. “We expect there to be a dense anti-air umbrella as well as hostile aircraft in the operations area. We've identified their primary radar installations and their location. We'll need to eliminate those to create a gap in their coverage."

The air wing's electronic warfare officer chimes in, "We'll be disrupting their communications to sow confusion and disrupt their coordination. This will give our fighters a better chance to slip through undetected."

The commanding officer resumes, her voice firm. "Our strike force will consist of K 332M Griffioens for suppression of enemy air defences and enemy aircraft, followed by a wave of K 315E Lindwyrms for electronic warfare support. Once the enemy's defences are weakened, A squadron of K 318 Wyverns will move in to drop precision-guided munitions on the primary targets."

She gestures to a pilot in the front row, who stands up. "Kapitiân** Hartmann will lead the Griffioen squadron. Our priority is to establish air superiority and clear the path for the Lindwyrms. Once they've done their job and the Lindwyrms have reached their objective, Kapitiân Ekkienvern's will hit the targets."

Kapitiân Ekkienvern nods, projecting confidence. "We'll be using the latest target coordinates, so accuracy is key. There will be moderate enemy fighter resistance, so stay sharp out there."

Kapitiân Ruiyter, the air wing’s operations officer adds, "Weather conditions are favourable for our launch. We've adjusted the launch schedule to optimize for cloud cover during ingress. Remember, speed and surprise will be our allies."

Konteradmiral Hynsveldburger concludes, "Gentlemen, this mission is high risk but high reward. Success here will give our allies a significant advantage in the theatre. The success of this mission depends on each one of you doing your part flawlessly. Study your briefs, rehearse your flight plans, trust in your training and in your aircraft, and look out for one another. Dismissed."

As the officers and pilots exit the ready room, a sense of determination lingers in the air. The aircrews disperse, each mentally preparing for the upcoming mission, knowing that their synchronized efforts will determine the outcome of this high-stakes operation. The adrenaline was pumping in the pilots’ veins as they proceeded to don their flight gear and made their way to the flight deck.

---

In the pre-dawn hours, on the flight deck of the Friederiek, a well-choreographed symphony of activity unfolds as the carrier air wing prepares for takeoff. Her flight deck was alive with personnel and aircraft as the carrier air wing prepared for their important mission. Kapitiân Ruiyter stood on the flight deck overseeing the preparations. He had a stern expression on his face, knowing that their role could tip the scales in the ongoing conflict in the loyalists’ favour. The carrier's radar had detected increased enemy activity near the Suadivici coast, and it was crucial to respond swiftly and decisively.

As the first rays of sunlight painted the horizon, the flight deck crew worked meticulously to arm the aircraft with their lethal payloads and equipment. The K 332Ms, advanced stealth multirole fighters, were loaded with air-to-air missiles and precision-guided bombs, while the K 315Es were equipped with electronic warfare systems. The pilots get in their planes, each one donning on their helmets and fastening their seatbelts. The crew of the carrier’s control tower communicates to the air wing through their headsets, coordinating with the planes as move into position.

The carrier air wing's birds were soon lined up in a precise formation, their canopies closed and engines humming with anticipation. Deck crew members move with practised precision, guiding the aircraft into position, securing catapult hooks, and attaching external fuel tanks and munitions.

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the deck. The salty breeze carries the distinctive scent of the sea as pilots in flight suits and helmets exchange final words with the ground crew, performing last-minute checks and hand signals.

In the midst of this controlled chaos, the Konteradmiral watches over the proceedings with a keen eye. She communicates with the tower crew through a headset, ensuring that every detail is accounted for.

As the first aircraft, a K 332M, taxis into position on the catapult. The leader of the squadron, Hartmann, gives a thumbs up as the tower grants him the go ahead to take off. The engines of his plane roar to life, drowning out all other sounds. The deck crew steps back, arms raised in the universal signal for clear. The catapult officer gives a firm nod, and in an instant, the Griffioen is propelled down the deck with staggering force, disappearing off the carrier's bow in a blur of speed. It rises upward in quick succession, reaching an altitude of 5,000 metres. “Langboge 1, your altitude restrictions have been lifted. Proceed with your mission, good luck” said the control tower.

One by one, the Griffioens of the Langboge squadron are launched in rapid succession, each takeoff a testament to precision and teamwork. The aircraft rise from the deck, gaining altitude as they break away from the carrier. The sound of engines reverberates through the air, creating a steady cadence that underscores the controlled chaos of flight operations.

Amidst the whirlwind of activity, the air wing's support staff stands ready with fire extinguishers, fuel hoses, and other essential equipment. Their role is just as vital as that of the pilots, ensuring that the aircraft are fuelled, armed, and ready for the mission ahead, and that they take off without incident.

As the last aircraft takes off and climbs into the sky, the flight deck gradually empties, returning to a state of organized readiness. The commanding officer watches the departing aircraft with a mixture of pride and concern, knowing that the skill and dedication of her aircrews will determine the success of the mission.

With the carrier's air wing now airborne, the focus shifts to monitoring the progress of the mission and preparing for their return. The carrier sails on, a mobile base of operations amidst the vast expanse of the Constantine Sea, as the aircraft execute their mission with precision and resolve. They now head out into Suadivici territory en route to their objective: to hinder Nero and instil fear into his troops from the air.

---

*Konteradmiral (“Counter-admiral”): The rank of a flag officer (OF-7) in the Mintorian Royal Navy (Kôningliek Marine)
**Kapitiân (“Captain”): A shorthand for Mintorian naval ranks at OF-5 (Kapitiân-ter-See) and OF-6 (Kommandeurkapitiân-ter-See)

Volshan Embassy

Suadivicium

Capital of the imperium



Most people ignored the Volhsan embassy, it was an easy thing to miss, a well-appointed but not especially grand double-story townhouse. About the only noticeable feature worth commenting on was the elegant bronze double doors, a reminder that the blacksmiths of Volshan were amongst the continent's finest. Inside was at face value little different, most would have called it comforting, rustic even but rarely grand or imposing.

That was of course entirely in keeping with Volshan sensibilities, always quieter than their imperial cousins, the architecture was warmer and more suited to creating a sense of ease than awe. The marble walls and tiles were a rougher sort than the pure white of Suadivici craftsmen, the wheat-colored tiles a warm variant from Canis Valley. The tapestries were as likely to depict wild Paracanu and ash dogs as great military victories and the portraits were of miners and farmhands, the common citizens rather than any great tribune or imperator.

That was always the fundamental difference between the two states, Suadivici was big, imposing, and grandiose but lacked any capacity for subtlety. By comparison, Volshan was quiet, reserved to the point of stubbornness, and possessed of a resourcefulness that belied its quaint image. One was a land ruled by emperors and conquering legions, the other was a nation of farmers and ranch hands that had made itself rich through trade and hard work.

Perhaps then it was not surprising that within this seemingly quaint embassy, a complex suite of hidden jamming equipment, sensors, and encrypted devices was currently concealing the seeds of the regime's downfall. Outside you couldn’t so much as think loudly about overthrowing the Dominus, inside the Volshan embassy a complex operation was underway to ensure that when the allies did finally arrive, the Hydra would lose all its heads and never recover.



************************************************************************************



Attalus took a long drag on his cigarette and glanced over at the secretary trying to seem assertive without coming across as impatient, the middle-aged woman behind the counter was wearing a horrific pink and green wool jumper and her long glasses and beehive hair reminded him far too much of a great aunt back in old Antyr, Caela or Theinu, he could never remember which. Either way, the woman whose name badge read “Leinthe” did not seem the sort to rush, not if the steaming cup of tea and crossword puzzle was anything to go by.

“Sorry love the ambassador will see you now!” she said in a raspy voice, waving him through

Picking up his hat and stubbing out his cigarette, Attalus moved through the metal detector and was led up the long marble staircase to the ambassador's office. A great oak door marked with a bronze plaque that read “Boreus Kato, Ambassador to the Imperium” swung open to reveal a decidedly less imposing man whose chinos and stockman boots put you more in mind of a rancher than a politician. He was presently on the phone and judging by the exaggerated provincial swagger of his voice, it was someone important he wanted to appear harmless toward.

Boreus Kato was in his late fifties, had a tan that gave his skin a tone resembling a lobster and sported a wild mop of unkempt gray hair and a nose that edged leftwards owing to a sporting injury in boarding school. He had two beady brown eyes and all the gravitas and temperament of a workshop teacher. In short, he was the perfect man to keep the ruse of harmless little Volshan going, Nero would sooner suspect moon men than a conspiracy headed by a provincial like Kato.

“Yeah Fellow, no trouble at all, look the Autocracy takes no side in this conflict, we only wish to see the mining contracts honored and the beer flowing, alright, give me best to yours, goodbye Lictor” Kato set the phone down and his face shifted instantly from convivial to downright grim

Playing up the regional accents was a standard tactic when it came to the imperium, laying the rural lilt on a bit thicker and making lots of harmless jokes about beer and sports. It worked surprisingly well, the imperials feeling both superior and utterly amused at the same time, made it a lot easier to get one over them when they assumed they were just having a chat with harmless bumpkins.

“I swear to bloody Aurora! If I have to keep talking like some slack jaw from Canis I'm going to bloody lose it! I'm a bloody patrician for Auvoi’s sake!” Kato grumbled accent now returned to the softer and more taciturn Antyrium drawl he actually possessed

“Seems to be working so far, a Lictor no less, start talking about Volshan rules and they’ll be so confused we won’t even need to go ahead with this” Attalus said with an amused grin

Kato shot Attalus a withering look and motioned for him to sit, rising from his chair the ambassador walked over to the window and scowled as he regarded the city below. He seemed to stand there for a long time, as though all the answers would appear if he stared long enough. Eventually, Kato turned and opened his draw, producing two glasses and a bottle of old whisky, the label was yellowed but it still visibly spelled out “Brage Oklands”

“Prydanian?” Attalus asked as Kato poured him a glass and passed it over

“Aye, got it on a stopover, mining convention in Bykonsvidi about twelve years back, it's been sitting in my desk ever since, I used to love this posting, made travel easier and the bloody duty-free was always good” Kato replied sadly

“And now?” Attalus asked as he sipped his whisky, savoring the warmth as it went down his throat

“Now?! Fascist hellscape in the streets, people being crucified outside embassies, oh, and a potential nuclear war if anyone off the coast presses the wrong button, let's hope they don’t have a bottle in their sodding draw!” Kato muttered irritably as he slumped back into his chair and swirled his glass with an unhappy expression

Kato had struggled during the months of silence that had followed the coup, Volshan had been forced, by the necessity of a major war on its doorstep and economic reality to maintain its neutrality. And while feigned neutrality had been kept to convincingly, the horrors outside became ever harder to ignore.

At first, a show of normalcy had been maintained by the regime, but that hadn't lasted long, soon the arrests and mazes of checkpoints, the propaganda blaring out on loudspeakers, and the nightly curfews had all become impossible to ignore. Eventually, the curtain fell away, and the truth had been revealed, the greatest city in Auroria was now a vast prison and Dominus Nero was its warden.

“Frustrating, but I fail to see how we are doing anything to solve that with our current activities, intelligence gathering only serves a purpose if we action the intel” Attalus replied with a frown

The coup still held the capital and as long as Suadivicium was in the hands of Nero’s regime the autocracy wouldn’t lift a finger against him. Mining contracts the very lifeblood of the autocracy, Volshan could not afford to risk its lynchpin investors' ire without a clear solution.

“Portacocoli, trust you’ve heard of it” Kato asked motioning to the map on his desk with a prodding finger

A port town, a big one if the news was to be believed, the rebels had seized it after clearing it of Nero's men building by building. It had been a victory but a costly one.

“I mean I had a fritter on the way here, but the guy washed his hands” Attalus quipped unable to resist

The imperium’s language was stiffer than its Volshan cousin, everything this side of the ocean had an air of formality that either lent it gravitas or made something sound like a contractable illness, there was no in-between with Suadivici.

“Don’t be a smartarse! Now listen, the rebellion took that city, big engagement, and it's put them in striking distance of the capital, the noose is tightening around Nero, the question is what are we going to do when they crank the lever?” Kato asked hypothetically

“We have no major forces in the area and so far, it’s the allies that have been doing the bulk of the fighting” Attalus noted his tone disappointed

“Don’t we?” Kato said with a wry smirk as he leaned back and sipped his whiskey

“We deployed the bulk of our military to Aurorea, wait you’re not suggesting...”Attalus let his words trail off as the thought clicked

There were thousands of troops barely a few hours away in Aurorea, and most of the seized airbases were repaired or functional. It wouldn’t take much notice or effort to redeploy a few thousand and fly them across the ocean, the hardware was all there, it just needed the green light to be used.

“The bases of the barthist regime are now housing Volshan troops and it’s only a short flight across the sea” Kato explained

“So, we are getting involved?” Attalus asked suddenly surprised

The VSI had been running minor ops since the coup began, intelligence gathering, and network building for the most part. It had been tedious and difficult work, the worst part was the lack of perceived payoff, why survey prominent coup leaders if you couldn’t off them? Now the reasoning made a lot more sense. Volshan was biding its time waiting for the right moment to strike.

“When our contacts in the first legion give the word, we will deploy three regiments of Para-Marines, that includes the 188th" Kato replied casually name dropping the legendary regiment

“The bloody flying fish?! And how do our government propose to deal with the AA situation?” Attalus replied both with surprise and incredulity

The elite of the elite, soldiers trained for combat in any terrain be it ocean or sky, if the government was risking its finest that meant this was a serious operation. It also meant that the Synod believed that the first legion actually had a chance at pulling off a victory, Attalus hoped that faith wasn’t misplaced, or it was going to be a very short deployment.

“Once the first seizes the outskirts our forces will be air-dropped in and then we will assist in dismantling the regime in a ruthless and clinical fashion” Kato explained sweeping his hand across the desk for emphasis

That would mean a lot of dead coup supporters, the 188th specialized in eliminating enemy officers, would make perfect sense to send them in and cut off the Hyrdra’s head before it had a chance to regrow. The Synod was clearly hoping for a blank slate when Augustus regained power, loose ends would be getting a prompt severance package.

“And the streets you’ve had my men mapping this whole time?” Attalus asked already knowing the ambassador's answer

“We need the data now that Nero’s blocked the maps online, our troops and agents are going to be very busy,” Kato said matter-factly

“You think the first and three regiments can take on the entire capital?” Attalus asked

“Except that it won’t play out like that, surely you remember the story of Titia’s hairpin?” Kato replied with a knowing grin

Every Volshan did, faced with insurmountable military odds during a long war with the state of Hortares King Nestor had betrothed his daughter to his rival in an apparent show of submission. The night of the wedding, however, had ended with the enemy king dead, his eye pierced upon his erstwhile bride's ceremonial hairpin. The kingdom of Hortares had fallen into chaos as internal feuding tore it to pieces and Titia had returned to Mescia a hero.

“Yeah, I don’t see how we’re going to fix this mess with a hairpin” Attalus replied skeptically

“You're missing the point, Atta, we don’t need to fix everything, just have our people ready when the time comes, let the allies do the heavy lifting and while Nero is distracted, we will land the killing blow!” Kato countered slamming his fist on the oak

“So, a grand old night of political assassination and covert assaults while the city burns, this operation have a name?” Attalus asked with a resigned chuckle, swirling his glass idly

“Bridal Veil,” Kato said simply

“You’re really leaning into this folk tale reference ambassador but sod it, ill drink to that,” Attalus said in an amused tone then he downed his drink in one motion

---

The shells had been falling for days, the Dominus’ forces had been broken in the East, shattered in the battles of Arulem and Justinium. The combined forces from the coalition and the Imperator’s loyal forces caused desertions from the third legion. Nero’s once iron grip was rusting away. There were rumors that the Dominus had been resorting to Meth and cocaine to keep himself “virile”. The Dominus had ordered a majority of his forces to retreat into the capitol, barricades were being erected in several key piazzas. The temple of DOMINUS DEUS had an anti air battery placed in its piazza.

On the news, Nero showed off his Castelli. These towns were designed to be kill zones outside Suavidicum, but what no one was talking about was the bread lines that were forming, and the power that flickered daily.

On top of the worsening conditions in the city, there had been broadcasts on the loudspeakers. A group in the north of the Imperium known as the Luctatores had been helped by the Ultramontese. This Lucilla had a message for the National Populsists.

“I am proclaiming, as a voice of the people, that the mad Tyrant that resides in Suavidicum must be destroyed. Opposing the murderous tyrant is a coalition of the world's forces. Our rightful Imperator leads from the front. The days of the Tyrant are numbered. My men will kill every Fascist on our way to find that bastard. AVE IMPERIUM, AVE IMPERATOR!”

Maria was standing in the bread lines at the military distribution point. Tanks rolled down the street as they always did around lunch time, they were playing Nero's speeches. Today’s moral boost was a speech about the inevitability of the final victory.

The tank was rolling away from the bread lines when a man jumped out running at the tank.
“FOR THE IMPERATOR, FOR FREEDOM!”

The man jumped at the tank and after a beat there was an explosion. The tank, the man and the nearby buildings were all burnt by the fires that came from the suicide bomber.

Maria ran away in the scatter, the soldiers who were escorting the tank began to yell for everyone who was in the piazza to get down. The weeks of fighting against everyone in the world had caused the National Populists to get jumpy.

Ran into a local pizzeria, what was once a local place for Gojan football players became a restaurant that only the wealthiest of Suavidicum citizens could go to. Maria quickly dove to the ground and hid with the patrons of the restaurant.

Outside Maria could hear gunfire, and screams. The men of the third legion had been slowly but surely losing their grip on both sanity and power. The citizens of Suviducm had been hit harder than anywhere else in the Imperium, Maria had kept her head down for months but things were getting desperate.

Maria left the Pizzeria after what felt like hours, and ran for home. When Maria had left her little provincial town she never expected to be at the center of a coup. She went to Suaviducm as one of the first members of her family to go to college, she spent hours every day calling her mom to tell her about the new life she was leading in “The City of Marble” as it was known. That had ended, and what was once a life filled with studies and the fun of youth was being spent hiding from murderous Fascists.

“Te amo Mater.” Maria said to herself as she made it to her apartment block.

---

Students had been kept under strict supervision since the coup, Nero didn’t want to allow a large group of liberals to wander around his city. Students had to check into their designated apartments whenever they left or entered.

“What are you doing sneaking around?” A guard asked as he walked over to the terrified woman.

“I was just out getting food when there was a bombing, I came back here as soon as I could.”

“Hmmmm, well I’ll still need to see some sort of identification to let you in.”

Maria handed him her student ID and the guard let her through.

What used to be a building filled with students meeting, and relaxing turned into a makeshift prison. The pool, which had seen parties of hundreds was drained and used as a infirmary for guards, lounges where students would study now serve as checkpoints.

Maria was walking back to her apartment when some other students caught her attention.

“Maria, come here.” A voice whispered from behind her.

Maria looked around and saw Brutus, before Nero’s coup his apartment had been the party apartment, he and his roommates had since been keeping their heads down.


“Maria, come here!” He whispered with a bit more force.

“What is it Brutus?” Maria said.

“Come over, we have something important to share with you.”

“Brutus, I am not going to sleep with you. That was a one time-”

“It’s not about that Maria.” Brutus looked serious, it was something that scared Maria.

She had seen this man lose a drinking game and have to run around the apartment building in nothing but a speedo. Him being serious was something that rarely ever happened.

“Fine.” Maria said as she walked over.

When Maria walked into the apartment she was shocked to see its state. Where there had once been beer, and band posters on the wall there were now maps and newspaper articles. The LED lights that changed color were ripped off the wall and now the light seemed more like an industrial plant. There was also a radio set in the corner with a headpiece on it that dulled the noise.

There were also people from all over the apartment bloc, as well as students from other universities there. The apartment was cramped, they were clearly breaking the rules but a full room was the least of the worries if they got caught.

“Everyone, now that the allies are closing in on the Capitol I think it is time that we do something. Show the world we aren't with Nero, we aren’t Fascist sycophants. We have been reaching out to groups who are fighting against Nero, we have even talked to Dioclese. I think that it’s time to make a move. Students all over the city are willing to demonstrate that we are sick of this war.”

The students in the meeting nodded in approval. The students stood there for a moment, the air seemed heavy as the room stood still.

“Well then, if we all agree. Then I think it’s time to go home and pray, meet at the Piazza de Senatorium.

---

What was the most surprising part of the protest was the quiet of it at first, as loyalist and coalition forces began to tighten the noose around the Imperial capital the third legion got more and more on edge. Usually they would enforce strict rules, and gatherings would be broken up as soon as they began. Today was different though, the groups of students poured from apartments and dorms marching to the Piazza de Senatorium, the once sacred grounds of the two and a half millennia old senate was where the coup began. The students began to gather in a large crowd, the weight of their number becoming more and more apparent until soon the protest spilled out of the piazza and started back towards the Imperial palace. Citizens seeing the crowd of young people began to join in, Nero had thought he had control over the capital but his illusion began to come crumbling down.

The crowd started chanting:

“Descendit cum Dictatore”

“Vivat Senatus!”

“Vivat Imperator!”

The gathered members of the third legion began to look uneasy, the mass of people stretched throughout the government quarters of Suavidicum and an angry mob cornered can lead to mass displays of violence. Soon enough something began to be built in the center of the crowd, a cross stood high and on it a straw man was crucified. The crowd took up a new chant.

“Sic Semper Tyrannis!”

The tone had changed.

---

After reports reached back to Nero about the protest in the heart of Suavidicum the dictator began to show fear for the first time in the nearly two years he served as master of the Imperium. Nero was fuming when the first reports came in, he had hoped that the December cooling would halt the coalition somewhat while he fortified his position. He had even heard reports that the Imperator was planning on leaving for Ethrusia in early January, but a protest of this size in his capital created issues.

“My Domunis, university students and civilians have flooded the streets around the piazza Senatorium.” The Centurion of the first Eagle cohort managed to get out, he was sweating and his uniform was out of place.

“This will not be a problem, I want you to send two helicopters to deal with them. Don’t use missiles though, I want my city to be pristine.” Nero said, looking at his monitors in the situation room.

“My Dominus, we have visual reports of incoming jets.” An officer yelled out.

“Why has radar not gotten a lock?” Nero yelled out.

“Sir, the S-19 has a radar signature of a bird. We can not make out what is on our systems.”

“Damnit, make sure that we have anti-air batteries on full alert. I don't want them seeing what is going on!” Nero yelled, his face red.

“My Dominus, the crowd is growing and we have reports of members of the third legion beginning to defect.” A Umbramanus member reported to the Dominus.

“Deploy the police, and make sure that they are the ones in the helicopter. I can’t even trust my own god damn men anymore!” The Dominus slammed his hand onto the table in front of him.

---

In the government district, the Imperial palace became an area of heated back and forth between the members of the third legion and the protesters. The garrison there had been put in place to keep the first legion under surveillance but with the outside threat now appearing the writing was on the wall.

The legate of the first legion called for a conference with the Centurion of the garrison.

“Son, I think that you and I both know what is going to happen here.” The Legate said.

“I am sorry sir, but I have my orders.” The Centurion looked down when he spoke back to the Legate.

“Son, you look like you are twenty five at the oldest. You have a life to live, a partner to find hell, maybe even kids of your own one day. Tell your men to stand down. The walls around the palace might stand, but that gate is very, very old. It can only stay upright for so long.” The Legate stood up and made for the door.

“Sir. I never wanted to do this.” The Centurion said, face in his hands.

“I know.” The Legate responded as he walked out.

The first legion sprung into action, their first move was to secure the armory and garage. The reduced security due to the protest meant that the first legion had no trouble securing their objectives.

The legionaries began to sweep through the Palace compound disarming the members of the third legion; those who tried to fight back were either disarmed by force or killed. Finally the gate was opened and the protesters flooded in. To their surprise they saw the National populist hydra thrown off the Imperial palace and the Imperial Chi Rho raised over the palace once more. The first legion was back on the board.

The Legate of the first legion met with the protesters, Brutus the one who organized the protest came to meet him with a few cameras. The Legate shook the young man's hand and said:

“We take back our country now!”

The first legion began to fall into the streets. Their equipment adorned with a Gold Chi Rho, to identify themselves. The sight of the first legion and their APCs, and squadron of tanks caused the protesters to embolden. The legionaries of the third legion began to defect en masse and join the protest. The momentum was only stopped once the Ferra Custodia and police were deployed. A tense standoff ensued until a police officer fired into the crowd, his shot hit a young woman, killing her.

What followed after was an explosion of violence. The protesters began to rush police lines, and the first legion began to engage with members of the Third and the Ferra Custodia. Above all the fighting helicopters sent by Nero began to fly into position.

---

The fighter pilots sent by the second legion were originally sent as a recon mission, the loyalist forces wanted to see Nero’s defenses before launching the attack on the capital. The two jets took off on a clear day, they were hoping to get a few shots of what was surrounding the capital and maybe even show the forces loyal to Nero that the air was squarely under coalition forces.
As the leader made a pass over the capitol he noticed something that shocked him. There was a clear, large crowd in the city. The pilot had to get a closer look.

“Gold two, I am making an approach to the city. Do you see what I’m seeing down there?”

“I see it gold leader, you feel free to make an approach I’ll keep you covered.”

---

Back on the ground there was a moment of fear, two jets were just seen overhead and in addition to the helicopters there would surely be a massacre. As the jet flew overhead, someone thought they saw the gold Chi Rho on its wing.

The sighting of a loyalist jet sent the crowd surging forward. The traitor helicopters began to fire with their machine guns, holes in the crowd began to be torn open. The Police began to fire with intensity, the crowd seemed to buckle at times.

A loud burst was heard from above as a jet flew away. Seconds later there was an explosion as one of the helicopters crashed into a building, and one skidded first into the police and then part of the crowd. The break in the police lines was exploited and the people burst through.

Near Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici
24 janvier 2024

The fringes of the metropole were crowded with working-class communities and residential complexes that sprawled out into the hills and marsh flats that surrounded the city. In the heights beyond Suavidicum, one could see its ancient stone walls. The vibrant and colourful spirit that typically dominated these neighbourhoods had been totally snuffed out. As fire and smoke erupted within the walls, and as the panic of warfare drove residents indoors, the charm of this place had almost disappeared. The streets were unkept and littered with discarded vehicles, crates, and weapons. Worse yet, the port had become inaccessible in the chaos, leaving food in short supply and forcing displaced civilians to settle in the fringes awaiting aid.

The situation in the capital had come to the attention of Major Pius Lucilla and his group of rebel luctatores. They had completed their training under the Tenebrian Commodore Peniculus' squadron of twenty-ones, who now held their own in the northern provinces, denying Nero's legions access to the country's upper coast. And where they had once numbered some few hundred rustic partisans, they now had amassed a fighting force of over two thousand people from all across the empire. There were farmers, officers, miners, and even students who had enlisted. Each one eager to see the downfall of Nero and the restoration of their Emperor and their Senate.

Lucilla had reflected deeply on his current situation. His blackmail at the hands of the Commodore some years ago continued to frustrate and embarrass him, but he indulged in the fact that he would only gain more power in his career. He might keep his head down for now on the Tenebrian issue, but it was inevitable that someday, somebody would rise up in their name. And as for the Commodore, Lucilla was content in knowing he would remain just that, a soulless puppet and a token minority.

The Major was now sitting in the back on an armoured car, travelling to the luctatore encampment located in a fringe community called Cimentarium. He was studying the inside of his purple beret, meditating on the mental image of his family as he meddled with it.

"My darling Fulvia... my dear Father... can you ever forgive me for what I've done?" He muttered.

"What was that, Major Lucilla?" Inquired the officer across from him.
"... Was I talking to myself again, Legate?"
"You were."
"Ah-h-h. No matter, it's nothing of importance now." Began Lucilla. "So you were saying earlier that Cimentarium was coming by a refugee problem?"

"That's right." Said the Legate. "Cimentarium falls on the quickest path out of the inner city. There used to be quite a bustling market there, but last month's skirmish with the inner city legions sent a lot of hostiles our way. We've been holding steady, but now all that's left for us are the public buildings, some housing complexes, the listening post, and the forum, totally deserted, save for the influx of refugees. There's at least a hundred people who have settled into the community, most with families. As much as we'd like to help them, attention to this uprising has been our main priority. Not to mention we lack the resources to help them."

Lucilla smacked his beret against his hand before fixing it back onto his head. Absolution still lingered in his mind. Though the task at hand was to prepare for an attack on Nero's forces in Suavidicum and to examine the potential of this new revolt, he saw another opportunity within this refugee crisis.

"I will need some time to discuss this with you and the other two Legates appointed there, Marius and Quintus. Then, I want to see the forum myself."
"Of course, Major Lucilla."

---

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici
26 janvier 2024

On the fifth floor of the public building overlooking the forum, the three Legates in command at Cimentarium assembled in the presence of Major Lucilla, who had laid a full blue folder onto the conference table.

"Won't you join me, gentlemen?" Lucilla said.

As the three officers smiled and joined in around the Major, Lucilla gestured to signal his desire to be briefed.

The first legate, Quintus, perked up. "Erm... so it seems, Major Lucilla, the Emperor has been recently escorted to Esthursia where he has been seeking the support of the new Association of Nations. This is contrary to the claims we've been hearing that he's been mounting a loyalist force in Prydanian custody."
"... And?" Said the Major.
"And it appears that this popular uprising will likely shatter Nero's hold over the capital. He has resorted to massacring dissidents with his remaining forces, but now that loyalist airmen have secured the city's airspace, Nero can only prolong the inevitable. Both patrician and plebeian are taking up arms against him. We don't expect his regime to hold out any longer than March."

"So what is your current recommendation, Legate?" Inquired Lucilla.
"I say we take the fight to Nero." Quintus smiled. "Join our brothers-in-arms"

The other two legates also beamed in approval.

"We can easily disable the rest of Nero's defences. We should advance as much as possible now, before the Emperor's legions return. Think of the glory we will have earned once this crisis is resolved!"

Lucilla laughed. "Yes, Legate, we shall be highly praised once the Senate is restored along with the lawful reign of our sovereign, Augustus. Though I must say, I disagree with your recommendation."

"Ah-h-h." Quintus frowned. "Another one of your devilish stratagem, then, Pius?"
"Not really. You said it yourself, Nero's forces are only prolonging the inevitable. Whether we shed blood or not will make no difference in this regard. So why waste time fighting?"
"Major Lucilla, you can't possibly suggest we sit and do nothing while the capital is under siege!" Interjected another officer.
"At ease, Marius. I'm not suggesting we do nothing. I have a plan of action that will secure each of us the glory and tribute we have rightfully earned, but through more humanitarian means."

Quintus and Marius disapproving, but were in no position to reject a proposition of civil relief. After all, they had soon so many of their brothers and sisters die in Nero's War. The pennyworth of aiding the empire's struggling civilians certainly warranted honour in its own right.

Quintus grunted. "So what will you have us doing, then?"

The Major revealed the contents of the blue folder he had set on the table and began handing out documents to the three officers.

"I have here a detailed plan to transform Cimentarium into a refuge for persons displaced by Nero's War. These southern buildings here, those which still stand, can easily house a thousand or more refugees. The derelict patrician estates east of the forum should also be reopened and outfitted as an infirmary. I'm going to have my medical team in Initium Novum transported here to staff it. I want you, Quintus, to oversee their safe passage. They're the best we have, so make sure they get here in one piece. The public buildings can be repurposed into kitchens. I know our food stocks in the northern provinces are limited but I need you, Marius, to oversee a huge shipment I'm going to place out east. It will join the other shipments travelling safely through the twenty-ones' zone of control up north and must reach Cimentarium as soon as possible to fill the demand."

"Why don't we simply ask the twenty-ones for emergency shipments from Ultramont?" Marius asked.

Lucilla paused and scowled at Marius. "We don't need their help."

Marius silently nodded as the other two legates began to jot down Lucilla's instructions in their daybooks.

"From now on, our countrymen can count on our resources. Keep in mind, there won't be sanctuary for these people for miles outside of the capital. For them, this is a matter of life and death. Cimentarium is going to be an asset to these people, and I'm putting you three in charge of it. Do you all understand?"
"Yes, Major." Repeated the three officers.
"Good. Go about your day, gentlemen."

Quintus, Marius, and the other legate nodded at Lucilla and began filing out of the conference room. Just as Quintus and Marius passed through through the door, the last legate turned to the Major and smirked.

"I think you're doing the right thing, Pius. We'll help a lot of people."
"Quit kissing ass and get to work, Legate." Lucilla grinned.
"Yes, Major." He chuckled as he closed the door behind him.

As silence now filled the room, Lucilla turned to peer through the window overlooking over Cimentarium's forum, now occupied by stragglers and his soldiers. In the distance, black smoke billowed from beyond the fearsome walls of Suavidicum.

"Forgiveness? Perhaps... Maybe all that really matters is doing the right thing."

---

Lupercalia was supposed to be a festival celebrating life, love, and fertility. This year it marked something very different. Pain.

Suavidicum had been a battleground for weeks. Each building was a battle where untold numbers would parish. Instead of fields being named battles, the combat for the city turned into the battle for the front room of Antonius’ Pizzeria. Miles turned into meters and meters to centimeters. Securing a street was akin to taking a whole city.

The loyalists set up their headquarters in the government district. The Platea Senatorium served as a makeshift artillery battery. The once magnificent city slowly turned more and more dilapidated, blocks of homes and businesses turned into craters. The sound of shells bursting replaced the sound of the elevated trams that criss-crossed the city.

Nero was in his situation room, the ministry of defense took up the Campus Martius. His bunker was buzzing with activity, the Dictator had been requiring his men to work all hours of the day. Reports had come in that the Vindex and their poster boy Dioclease had entered the city and were running raids on what little supply lines Nero had left.

Nero’s staff was briefing him on their position.

“The Second legion is advancing from the East to connect with the assault elements of the first legion. Our men in the sixth legion have buckled and are requesting help from our forces in the third.” Nero’s general said.

“It is all okay, everything will be stabilized when Agrippa and the fifteenth attack.” Nero said not looking away from the map.

“My Dominus.” A legate started, too scared to finish.

“My Dominus the fifteenth has munitied, Agrippa is dead.” Nero’s aid decamp said.

Nero shook as he reached for his coffee, taking a sip he said:

“If your rank is lower than that of a three star Legate, exit the room.”
Men began to shuffle out of the room. There were about six men remaining all looking at each other with fear in their eyes. Nero took a deep breath and the room seemed to grow much, much smaller.

“The attack was an order! How dare the men of the fifteenth betray me! Me the one who saved this country from the corrupt and degenerate senate! I should have purged the ranks like I wanted to! Everyone in the Imperium is a traitor!”

“My Dominus I can not allow you to besmirch the honor of-”

“Traitors, they are all traitors. Even the Ferra Custodia!” Nero was screaming so loud that even the men who left into the hall could hear.

“I should have purged you all after the coup, you are bringing down everything I worked for! The national revolution is at a breaking point!” Nero screamed.

The room fell silent. Nero sunk into his chair and stared at the map. There were no more fire-brand speeches. Suddenly the weight of the world seemed to hit Nero. There was no plan that could save him. The war was over.

“Gentlemen. The war is lost.”

---

Suavidicum was a crater. The fighting during the Lupercal offensive had left much of the city in ruins. Bustling plazas were now craters, buildings were crumbled and on fire. Bodies were strewn all over. Augustus and his generals were touring their destroyed capitol.

“It's nice to see that our tanks were as good as advertised.” Augustus joked.

He was looking at one of the Imperiums MBT’s stuck on the road. Engineers said that it was salvageable; they just needed time to get it running again. First legion guards cleared the road as Augustus made his way back to his palace. The battle was officially over but the risk of free shooters was always present.

Augustus stopped for a moment. There was a young woman crying on the street, she looked injured.

“Excuse me miss. Is everything alright?” Augustus asked, looking at the girl.

“Yes, yes your majesty. I’m just happy that the nightmare is over.” The girl looked up at the Imperator.

“I promise it won't happen again. Tell me miss, what is your name?”

“My name is Maria. Your majesty with all due respect you let this happen once. How can I trust you won't let it happen a second time.”

Augustus looked shocked he had never thought about what she had said. He had allowed Nero to gain power right under his nose. How could he stop this from happening again?

Augustus was snapped back into the moment by one of his Legates.

“My lord we must continue.” His generals said to him.

“Yes, let's. I’m sorry Maria.” Augustus said as he began to walk again.

Augustus and his group began to move to the Imperial palace. Nero was being held there by the Praetorian guard. During the battle for the city Nero was dragged out of his bunker and escorted to await an audience with Augustus.

---

Augustus was nervous he was not scared of the man, Nero was intimidating but had lost. He was scared of the moment, years of fighting an untold number of dead lead to this very moment. Augustus opened the door to his throne room and awaited his guards to bring him Nero.

“Presenting the dishonored marshal of the Imperium.” The guards announced as they brought Nero in.

“Well my Imperator you do look like you are enjoying this moment. In league with traitors who would sell out our beloved empire.” Nero said.

“You don’t get to speak Nero. Augustus waved his hands and the marshal was gaged.”

“I will be sending you to the AN to face trial. When you are found guilty and sentenced I will make sure that you spend the rest of your days in a dark cell with as little human contact as possible. Death will come, but slowly.” Augustus said with venom in his voice.

Nero was dragged out of the throne room kicking and trying to get free. The Dominus had more fight in him.

Augustus sat on his throne. The weight of the world slowly began to leave his shoulders the rebuilding process begins tomorrow.

Suadivicium

The Imperial palace

1 Day after the overthrow of the Tyrant Nero



Colonel Eurus Ceucer led the way through the palace, he was still dressed in the combat fatigues he had been wearing for the last 48 hours. Operation Needle had been a resounding success, the Volshan intervention taking Nero by surprise and providing vital assistance to the loyalist forces. Now after all that fighting, Eurus was looking forward to a very long shower and several hours of sleep, diplomacy would not allow that just yet though.

“Watch your step, they are still clearing this place, lots of debris and booby traps still to be removed,” he said bluntly as his charges followed cautiously behind him

The Volshan government had wasted no time in recalling its diplomatic staff, the Zilathe had already contacted the Imperium to re-affirm bonds of friendship. Ambassador Boreus Kato had been flown back on the first available military flight and he had not come alone, a royal visitor had insisted on meeting the Imperator.

Attolia Tarquin, the third daughter of King Lucius Tarquin of southern Volshan, was a rare beauty. Her red hair and pale skin made her appear almost glowing in the dawn light. She was also acquainted with Augustus, peripherally perhaps but enough to know his face and address him with some degree of familiarity. Her presence was a clear signal to Augustus, that the imperium was being welcomed back into the fore and if he wished, Volshan would cement ties in royal fashion.

“Bullet holes on every surface” Attolia quipped as they drew toward the throne room

“Aye, this place saw heavy fighting, heard Nero surrendered like a whipped dog” Eurus replied with a smirk, amused at the thought of the groveling tyrant

Soldiers in the combat fatigues of the first legion stood guard at the entrance to the throne room, normally this would have been a drawn-out ceremony but under the circumstances, they were simply checked for weapons and then allowed through. Inside the hall waited Augustus, the young man had an austere, intense look about him, quite different from the man Boreus had known a year ago.

“Forgive our intrusion Your Majesty, I am here on behalf of the Zilathe, and the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Autocracy may Aurora bless them, we have come to offer our governments assistance in any way possible and to affirm our brotherhood, we know of your nations suffering and we believe that your inclusion in the A5 will serve to stabilize both our economies and allow the imperium to more quickly recover” Ambassador Kato explained in a respectful voice that was careful to be neither too loud or too meek

Attolia flashed the taciturn-looking prince the briefest of smiles, her green eyes like two jade baubles as she regarded him. Eurus chuckled inwardly, he knew an attempt at wooing when he saw one and Attolia was famed for her stubbornness, if she had set her sights on Augustus, it was only going to end in marriage or acrimony.

“May I also present her grace Princess Attolia Tarquin, daughter of King Lucius and scion of the royal house of the southern kingdom, she asked to accompany us on behalf of her father” Boreus explained tone never changing from collected and respectful

“Hello Augustus, it's been a long time since college, though I do remember you,” Attolia said warmly

“There it was,” Eurus thought “The board is set, and all the pieces are in play”

The Throne room went into dead silence as they waited for the Imperator to speak.

Augustus was relieved. The prospect of rebuilding after the civil war seemed as daunting as the actual war itself. There were examples, Prydania had seen an economic miracle after their civil war. Were the Imperium and Prydania really comparable? Augustus was thinking about calling into places like Andrenne and Goyannes to send their economists to have a conference with the minds of the Imperium. Augusts looked at the Volshan representatives, his ethnic cousins. The worry seemed to fade away for a moment. There were people who cared about the Imperiums revival.

"Well then! I do believe that we should speak in a less formal environment. Perhaps my office? I should have some wine brought in and some food. I will say outright that the Imperium would be more than happy to join the A5. As you can see my country is a bit in ruins. Friends help friends fill in craters, right?" Augustus laughed.

The Imperator did remember Attolia. His college days seemed like a lifetime ago. Augustus had spent his college days learning the classic philosophies of the Imperium. The Allegory of the Cave, The Republic so on and so forth. He always got special treatment, but he tried to live as normal of a life as possible while at university. When he wasn't forced to read a philosophy book, or the Akhi’Duta Wars by Constantine the first Augustus spent his time going from party to party. He was now Twenty Six and had lead his country through a civil war he was hoping that Attolia wouldn't remember the party boy and she would see the man he had become.

"I hope the lady with you is hungry because it is rude to refuse an emperor when he invites you to dinner."

Augustus motioned for the trio to follow him. The trio left through the doors behind the emperor and began to move towards the personal chambers of the Imperator. The palace was full of people. Attendants of the Imperator made their way through the halls. The women who were courtiers of the Imperator eyed up this new threat to their status. Advisors came up to the Emperor and tried to get his attention but he waved them off.

"You know, I will have the authority to sign any documents for the Imperium to enter the A5 immediately. Elections are going to happen soon and then my hands will be tied." Augustus said looking back at the Volshan representatives.

"Colonel I hope you don't mind if the lovely lady you're with comes and walks with me. I would hate for your rugged military look to take away from her." Augustus said.

Much like the rest of the palace the Imperial chambers were made of marble. The wealth of the Imperium was on full display in the palace. Augustus sat down at his private dining table, or as private as a monarch can ever truly have. Augustus beckoned for the others to join him.

"Please, sit. there is much to talk about. Wine will be here soon, as will food. I would hate to have to let dinner get cold because we were talking about political matters." The Emperor said.

"Give me that A5 treaty, I'll get it signed right away."